The Vows We Break - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,11
wrong. I’m so sorry.”
My nostrils flare at the blatant lie.
He’d do it again in a flash.
So I absolve him.
I tell him to pray and seek penance, and when I leave the confessional a half hour later after tending to two more of my flock, I see him still there, on his knees, doing as I wished.
It’s a small church. I man it myself, and I stay back, hidden in the shadows as the afternoon starts to fade away.
When he rises, I can see he feels like he’s had a load lightened, and somehow, that makes the one on my heart even heavier.
As he trudges out of the church, I follow. I know where he’s going, because he practically lives at his shop. So I go there, and when he enters, shortly after, his wife leaves to pick up their children.
The town is small, barely four thousand people live here, and the single high street is served by their hardware store, a bakery, a small chain grocery, and a few other storefronts. A little cafe, a bar. Nothing much, but enough.
I move around the back of the building, knowing my way about the redbrick street, and I find the back door open.
Not surprising.
It’s that kind of place. Trust... there’s trust woven into the bricks lining the streets, even if it’s misplaced.
So I move into the backroom and head into his office.
Is it wrong of me to do what I have planned?
Yes.
Do I care?
No.
I wait in the office until he starts to shuffle around, and when the door opens, I prepare to do what I must.
Within seconds of him stepping inside the room, my arm is at his throat, and I raise his to make sure he passes out.
With barely any struggle, he’s flailing around like the useless sack of skin he is until he’s deadweight.
In more ways than one.
It’s time for me to get to work.
I unfasten his belt from around his waist, and I buckle it around his neck. With him lying flat on the floor, quiet for the moment, I peer around the small study, and find a box of tissues on the desk. Grabbing one, I unfasten his fly and grab his dick.
When I do, I almost gag.
He definitely has an STD of some kind.
Just holding it through the tissue makes me want to vomit and bleach my fingers, but I focus.
Trying not to think about how he might have touched his wife since he got the STD, and that he slept with whores without using protection and didn’t think to protect her or maybe even them—
God help her. God help them.
With rage in my heart, making my soul vibrate with its strength, I tie the loose end of his belt around the door handle. It’s a canvas style belt, so I can work with it. If it was leather, I’d need to come up with another plan.
Of course, I’m in a hardware store—there’s nothing but equipment for killing in here.
But I carry on with my plan, appreciating how organically it comes together.
For a second, I get lost in the quagmire of this man’s sins as I maneuver his still form, but when the bell chimes from the church tower, I know I have to hurry.
Vespers will be soon.
With his hand on his dick, I prop him up then let him go.
A rattling gasp escapes him, like his unconscious body knows it can’t breathe, and I watch as the air drains from his lungs and he chokes.
It’s slow.
But I know it will be identified as an accidental death thanks to misadventure.
My lips twitch at that.
The coroner has no idea just how much misadventure this prick has gone through.
As his life drains from him, I observe, and that burden on my soul?
It lightens some.
And twenty minutes later, when I climb out of the back window, my only regret is that his wife will find him like this.
She doesn’t deserve that, but neither does she deserve to be married to that piece of scum.
No one sees me because no one is around at this time.
Most people are at home, having dinner since the kids are out of school. But I know Dirk’s schedule because I’d been watching him.
I’ll admit to that.
I’ve been watching and waiting for him to fall from grace, and now that he has?
I just delivered him to the Devil, because God, no matter how benevolent he is, won’t accept the absolution I gave him, not when there’s no regret in his heart.
Just like there’s none in mine