Idolatria Ch. 10

"I... I guess..."

She came to a stop in front of me. "Need another prayer sesh?" she smiled.

I sighed. Janina was already holding out her hands for me to take. I slung my bag over one shoulder and let her squeeze my hands, a light chill meeting my fingers.

"Lord," she began, closing her eyes. "Thank you for bringing Asher and I together again to help him through his struggles. Father, things are so much harder when we believe there's no one around to help us... No one who can understand what we're going through. But we know that You see all, know all. We know that You are always by our side, especially when things are hardest on us. Please help Ash to fight through this and all other hardships, and help us to always remember that we are not alone; that Your unending love surrounds us through even the most difficult of times. In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen."

"... Amen."

Janina smiled warmly up at me with almost misty eyes. "Feel a little better?"

Unending love, she said.

Unconditional unless you lie in bed with other men? Is that it?

I looked down at Janina's hands, so small in mine. They felt like warm, heavy shackles.

"Not... really."

‡

Thirty-four days.

Thirty-four? Last Friday in February. That was when it ended. One, two, three, four weeks and six days. The Lenten season marked the forty days during which Jesus Christ fasted in the desert in preparation for his ministry and martyrdom, eating nothing while the devil tempted his hunger.

Even eating every day, I felt like my body was starving.

That night, I drove out to the church to find some semblance of comfort. The front doors were unlocked and the lights were on; pretty sure the Potter's Hand group met on Thursdays. But if I went to the sanctuary, I was afraid someone would walk in on me. So instead, I went to the chapel to pray.

The chapel was a small room off the side of the building, only big enough to have a handful of people at a time, only enough to bear three tall, slender stained-glass windows through which the dusky sunlight was allowed to filter. Before the diminutive altar, a pair of kneeling benches stood with space in the middle to walk, and behind that, two rows of tiny pews. Essentially, it was a miniature, playhouse-like copy of the main church. I couldn't remember what anyone else really used the chapel for, or if it had a real purpose beyond just... being a private place to pray. It was almost always open. And so, it had become a place for me to go when I felt I had nowhere else... And I was feeling very lost at the moment.

After deliberating alone in the doorway, I shut myself into the chapel, bypassed the light switch in favor of the remaining twilight, and approached the kneeling benches. Carefully, I lowered my knees down onto the narrow cushion and propped my elbow up on the little railing in front of me. Already, I felt... safer, somehow. I took a deep breath, clasped my hands together, and laid my forehead against them with a shuddering sigh.

And I just sat there.

And sat there.

My mind was racing and yet totally blank. I wanted to say what I was feeling. I needed to be heard. But I didn't know where to even start. Maybe if I just let myself talk, it would come out eventually.

I whispered the words to my hands. "God... I need help. Please."

The room stayed predictably silent, but I felt the door inside me start to open a little bit.

"Everything I know is telling me I've done the right thing," I said quietly. "I gave up the thing that was poisoning me, didn't I? I pushed away whatever was leading me astray. I cut the sin out of me. I'm... trying to get rid of it. I'm trying so hard. That's... what You wanted, right?"

My voice thickened. My grip tightened on itself. I forced the words out, determined to be listened to.

"I knew it was going to hurt. I knew it was going to be hard. I didn't ask for it to be easy, I never thought it would be," I said. "But this - it - this hurts - too much. I don't... know if it's supposed to feel this way. Is it supposed to feel like I'm empty? Like there's a gaping hole in my chest - like I'm dragging my body with me like an anchor. Like I've forgotten what being whole feels like. Is that what it's like to purge yourself of sin?"

I fell silent, waiting for something, anything. A revelation. A sense of comfort. A shred of warmth. It wasn't like I thought the voice of God was going to come booming through the ceiling - "Asher! Do not be afraid. I am here to cure you of your lust for other men!" That wasn't going to happen. If it did, I'd have other problems...

... But I wished I could know that my words were reaching somewhere.

"I can't do this."

Silence.

"God, please... I can't keep going like this."

Nothing.

"Please, I c - I need help. It hurts. I can't. It hurts so fucking bad, please help-"

My throat was strangled with the effort of keeping the words flowing, with the heavy ache of my lungs. It was like my voice was made of tar, choking out of me, sticking to my lips, my tongue... My hands were shaking. My eyes stung. And slowly, I felt a new emotion surging up from deep inside me.

I was angry.

The sound of my fists slamming down onto the wooden rail cracked through the room with a hollow echo. My vision swam as I glared up at the windows behind the altar, at the sharp relief of painted figures cast in glass that all but averted their eyes from me. My anger boiled, came gushing out of my mouth without any way for me to stop it.

"WHY DO I HAVE TO PROVE THAT I'M WORTHY OF SAVING!?"

The sickening sound of my breaking voice resounding off the walls broke the dam inside me like an explosion. The tears streamed down, and my screams poured out with them.

"I'm supposed to be made exactly the way you wanted! You're supposed to have a plan for me! So why even make me this way - why put this inside me just to make me rip it out? What am I proving by suffering like this? What's the point of making me give up sex, give up love, just because a rule in a book says I have to - THIS IS HOW YOU MADE ME! THIS IS WHO I FUCKING AM! I CAN'T-"

The screaming died in my raw throat. I gripped the railing to try, fruitlessly try to stop the harsh quaking in my body... And slowly, I sank back onto my elbows, air shaking in my lungs. What little of my voice could escape from me was weak and thin.

"He w..."

He was right.

"I c-can't..."

I couldn't get rid of this.

"I don't... I don't..."

I didn't want to get rid of this.

I was so happy with him. Everything just felt right. I was where I was meant to be.

I knew who I was with him.

"I can't s... st... can't..."

But I had nothing left in me anymore. I let my face slip down into my cupped hands, let myself dissolve. I just knelt there, sobbing, my thoughts swerving from misery to anger and back again. Behind the altar, the last of the setting sun escaped the colored panes of glass and doused the glow around me.

‡

Thirty-five days. Five days short. It would have been the day after Easter that my 'fast' was over... But I knew now that I could have abstained for years and still felt as horrible as I did before. And I wasn't the only person I had hurt.

I was slumped down in the driver's seat again, one knee jammed up against the wheel. I was tired, despite sleeping for nearly twelve hours the previous night. I'd spent all day trying to figure out what to say... How to admit what I felt. How to ask to be forgiven.

What could I even say that would matter? I practiced things in my head that sounded ridiculous in my mouth. I imagined every emotion Levi could feel towards me, how he would react to my return, how I could prepare for it. Every expression I pictured on his face hurt to think about. Maybe if this were a chick flick, he'd run to me, hug me tight, tell me how much he missed me. Maybe that's what I would do if I weren't so terrified.

And I had to think about what I was asking him for. To take me back, yes... but as what? His boyfriend? His lover?

... His slave?

The word trembled in my chest.

Not slave... Submissive.

Only days before the fight, I had told him I wanted his collar. And I was coming to realize that I still felt that way. There was room for love in that. It was what I felt when he bound me. When he possessed me. Something I felt whenever I was with him, but was somehow strongest when he was in control of me... Passionate, reverent love.

For the first time, I recognized the emotion and allowed myself to feel it. Allowed myself to embrace it.

I found myself chewing my lip nervously again. Sighing, I looked through the window across the street, at the unchanged exterior of the Tannery. Whatever happened now... My fate, my future, was waiting inside. And even if Levi and I couldn't come back together, I would still be the same person. If nothing else came of this, then I could be grateful that he forced me to see myself for who I was.

The sun was starting to set. I couldn't stay in here forever.

At long last, I climbed out of the car and made my way across the street.

***

AN: I promise the angst will slow down now. Welcome to part two. We're gonna feel so much better next chapter.