Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(37)

So, my father hadn’t openly confessed everything…

He breathed out heavily after answering me, the fingers of one hand drumming over the skin of his opposite arm. "All I know of that particular situation is what your father told me during his confessions."

Eyebrows shooting up, I asked, "Confessions? As in plural?"

"As in multiple. Five or six, maybe. Your father had tucked away quite the collection of skeletons in his closet. By the time he was finished confessing, I'm sure he went to meet God with a clear conscience."

My teeth slammed together, my jaw ticking with the effort. "Hopefully God sent his ass into the pits of Hell as soon as he arrived."

Timothy blinked at the censure in my voice, maintaining the appearance that he was calm and collected despite my obvious hatred toward the man who raised me. "Regardless of your father's eternal fate, what I know of the others is that there was a shakeup within the parish while Jericho still lived in town and attended here. From what I know, Jericho had every intention of going to school, earning a degree and attending seminary school much like you did. However, he made...accusations...prior to starting school."

My lips tipped up into a snide grin. "Let's stop beating around the bush. It's a waste of both our time. I know what you meant to say is that my brother finally came out and spoke about the two men who had been abusing him his entire life, the two men who sought protection from my father."

"As far as your father knew, they were only disciplining Jericho-"

"With their cocks?"

The older priest's eyes clenched shut at the reminder that the attention given to Jericho hadn't been what most would consider good or pure.

The situation didn't entirely make sense to me. After reading what my father wrote so many times that the words went blurry beneath my strained and tired eyes, I'd spent the late evening and early morning hours attempting to understand how something so evil could have happened. How I could have missed what was being done to my twin brother? It wasn't just when we were young. Perhaps if it had been, there would be some believable excuse. But from what I knew, the abuse lasted late into Jericho's teen years, possibly continuing even after I'd already left home.

Opening his eyes, Timothy reached up to scrub his palm over his face. "The priest assigned to this parish prior to me, as well as the music director who led the children and youth choirs were transferred shortly after your brother came forward. The situation was handled quietly in order to spare the parish."

A fire had been lit inside me, rolling and growing until the heat threatened to strangle my lungs. Dragging in a breath was difficult. Keeping from screaming even more so. "So, what you're telling me is that two grown men abused a boy for over ten fucking years, and the only punishment they received was to be transferred?"

"This type of situation-"

"Is delicate. Yes, you've told me that already. But didn't the Church consider that my brother had been delicate as well? Every day, every week, month and year that those two bastards raped him, he had been just as delicate as the situation."

Pinning me with his gaze, he managed to keep a straight face. I would have gone across the desk at him if I didn't notice the anger rolling behind his eyes - an anger that matched my own. "I never claimed it was right, Jacob. There's a reason I hinted to you where you could find your father's buried secrets. But, as a former priest, you have to understand the Church's reasoning for keeping this quiet."

"To save money?" I posited, "or to save face."

Timothy cringed. "To save the faith, Jacob. If something like this were to come out, you know as well as I that believers and non-believers both would blame the Catholic Faith. They would question their own belief systems based on the actions of a few evil men who had taken advantage-"

"So, instead of punishing them and jailing them as they should have been, the Church made the decision to transfer them? Are they free to continue molesting small children?"

I knew the answer, but did he?

"I assume they're both so old now that even if they wanted to-"

My fist slammed down on the desk, the metal box rattling over its surface. Timothy flinched, but gave no other indication that he would back down. I took several steadying breaths before asking a question that eluded me over the course of the night that I racked my brain for answers. "Why Jericho and not me? We were the same age. We lived under the same abusive hand."

Sitting back in his seat, Timothy's eyes darted to the wall behind me, to the crucifix that hung there, the image of a dying Christ staring over at him. "How does evil choose any victim?" he finally asked. "Ease of access, maybe. The strength of the person? None of it makes sense to me."

Biting back a response that wouldn't have been fair to the man sitting in front of me, I refocused my anger on the two men who were guilty of Jericho's abuse. Not just two, but three. While my father hadn't been sexual in his abuse towards my brother or me, he had remained silent on what he knew happened to Jericho. "What, exactly, did my father tell you?"

The wooden chair creaked again as Timothy adjusted his weight. He wasn't fidgeting, just slightly uncomfortable. I understood his hesitancy to talk. Confessions, especially those made on the deathbed of a believer, were sacred. They were a conversation with God made through the holy men on this Earth who acted as a vessel of sorts. As priests, we are sworn to remain silent even when we know the information should be exposed, but our duty to remain silent is steadfast and irrefutable. The faithful need to know that they can confess their sins without fear of secular reprisal. They must be given a safe place to talk to God, a haven of sorts to unload all the sin and evil they may have committed. Their desire to appease their creator must be maintained by the protections provided by the Church. To allow our lips to fall loose, to allow our tongues to speak the secrets that were spoken through us to God, was to admit that secular law was more powerful than the Faith to which those believers subscribed.