The Confessor Pt. 02

"Tell me something, Samuel," said Archibald as he looked Samuel directly in the eye, "do you love the Goddess?"

"What?" Samuel said, caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Do you love the Goddess?" Archibald repeated. "Is she your reason for being? Do you yield to Her in all things?"

"Y-yes, of course," Samuel began reflexively, "I yield to Her in all—"

"Why?" Archibald interrupted.

Thinking this was some kind of test of his devotion to the Goddess, Samuel began casting about for an answer.

"Because...because..."

"Because you were told to?" Archibald interrupted again. "Because you were raised to? Because you were never given the choice to do otherwise?"

"No!" Samuel shouted in a panic, wrenching his hand free of Archibald's grip and rising to his feet. "Dy-Dyanarah is the Mother of All," he said trying to sound as pious as possible, "a-and I am one of Her beloved children. Of course, I love Her! Just as She loves me."

Archibald looked up at him with a blank expression on his face.

"Is that so?" he said without emotion. "And you believe that the Confessors are Her chosen representatives?"

"Yes, of course," Samuel said immediately.

"Really?" said Archibald as he scowled at Samuel. "And what kind of loving mother would allow herself to be represented by a bitch like Nadine, hmm?"

Samuel gaped at the old man. His casual use of foul language was one thing, but for a member of the Church to curse a Confessor was inconceivable.

"Di-did... Did you just call the lady Confessor a... a..."

"A bitch?" Archibald said helpfully. "Yes, I did."

Samuel was incredulous at the man's glib attitude.

"How could you say something like that?"

Archibald gave Samuel a quizzical look, then a small grin spread across his face.

"Well, if she looks like a duck, and she quacks like a duck, and she fucks your wife in front of you like a duck, then she's probably a bitch!"

Archibald began cackling loudly at his own joke as Samuel stared at him with a horrified look on his face.

"Aren't you a member of the Church?" Samuel asked as the old man caught his breath.

"I used to be. A long time ago," said Archibald, and then holding Samuel's gaze he added, "I belong to something else now."

"What-what do you mean," Samuel asked.

Archibald stared at Samuel in silence for a moment as if he were thinking about his reply, then he finally answered.

"Do you remember hearing about some idiots who tried to blow up a few churches about a month or so back?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do—"

Samuel stopped short and stared at the old man.

No, he thought to himself. No, that can't be. Is he saying that he's a terrorist?

Samuel wanted to believe that it was another bad joke, but the look on Archibald's face suggested that he was dead serious. That meant one of two things: either the old man was crazy, or he was an enemy of the Church; neither possibility was very appealing to Samuel. Slowly, he began backing towards the door to the shed.

"Thinking about calling for help, boy? Not a good idea, or did you forget that you're not supposed to be here?"

Samuel stopped in his tracks as he remembered the situation he had gotten himself into.

"And what are you planning to do anyway?" Archibald continued. "Tell the priestesses that old Archie is a big bad terrorist with that alcohol on your breath? Which one of us do you think they're going to believe?

Samuel felt a cold sweat when he realized that the old man was right.

"Sit down, boy, or I'll call the priestesses myself and tell them you disobeyed the Confessor again. Don't worry, I just want to talk for a minute. Once you hear me out you're free to go, and you coming here tonight will be our little secret."

Samuel was cornered, and he knew it. Doing what the old man said seemed to be his only way out of this situation so he slowly lowered himself back onto the chair, never once taking his eyes off Archibald.

"Smart boy," said Archibald once Samuel had sat back down. "Now, you just lied to me, didn't you? You don't love the Goddess, you're just afraid of what will happen to you if you say otherwise. You're playing the part of the 'faithful servant' to avoid paying the price of the heretic. Isn't that right, Samuel?"

"No, I—" Samuel began indignantly, but he was cut off.

"Oh no? Then why are you here, boy? Twice you were told to go home and wait for your wife to return and twice you disobeyed. Would you say that shows an abundance of faith on your part or a lack of it? And let's not forget that you just attacked a member of the Church. Is that how you demonstrate your love for the Goddess?"

Samuel felt the corner he'd been backed into grow tighter. He wanted to argue with the old man but everything he'd said was true; Samuel had sinned several times against the Goddess in the past two days and he had no excuse other than his lack of faith and his inability to yield to Her.

...His inability to yield Delilah to Her.

"My wife," Samuel said mournfully. "I just wanted to see my wife..."

Archibald was silent for a long moment, then he reached behind him and retrieved a packed smoking pipe and a lighter from the nearby shelf. After he lit the pipe and took a few puffs, he stared at the ground and began to speak in a tired voice that made him seem even older than he looked.

"I got married forty years ago to a woman I'd met in college. It was winter. I still remember the light snow that fell on the day of our wedding; the priestess said that it was a sign of the Goddess's favor." Archibald took the pipe out of his mouth and spat on the ground as if his own words disgusted him.

"After the ceremony was over, that same priestess scheduled our wedding consultation for the following day at the same church. And that was when I met the Confessor named Veruca. When she began to perform the 'Benediction' on my wife, I obeyed the Confessor and watched quietly. When she ordered me to help her deflower my wife, I obeyed the Confessor and held my wife's legs while she fucked her with that damned Spear. And after it was all over, when I was told to go home and wait for my wife to return, I obeyed the Confessor and left my wife at the church."

Archibald's eyes rose from the ground, and he looked directly at Samuel as bitterness crept into his voice.

"One month, boy. I didn't see my wife again for an entire month. And when she finally came back, she brought Veruca with her. Before long the Confessor had moved into my house and claimed both my wife and my marital bed as her own, forcing me to sleep on the couch each night and be lulled to sleep by the sounds of their lovemaking."

Archibald's eyes drifted back down to the floor and the tiredness returned to his voice.

"And I did that, too. For the better part of twenty years."

Samuel, who had been absorbed in the old man's story, couldn't help but notice that he'd appeared to have stopped short of the end.

"What happened? Was the wedding annulled? Is that why you're here now?"

Archibald shrugged noncommittally.

"Yes and no." Then, seeing Samuel's unsatisfied expression added, "Let's just say that I had a bad day and ended up punching a Confessor in the mouth."

Samuel's jaw dropped. "You hit a Confessor?! And you're still alive?!"

"Yeah, well," Archibald said as he glanced in the direction of the church, "I think I have my daughter to thank for that, ironically enough..."

Archibald shook his head ruefully as he rose from his seat and walked over to a small table. "But that's all in the past now, boy. You need to focus on what you're going to do next."

"What I'm going to do next?" Samuel repeated dumbly.

"Yes," Archibald said as he wrote something down on a slip of paper, "you have the opportunity to avoid a fate so many men in this world meekly accept and, in doing so, become a part of something greater. Something that doesn't require blind faith."

Archibald folded up the slip of paper and handed it to Samuel who took it without thinking.

"Here, follow the directions exactly as I have written them and you'll be introduced to my associates."

"You-you mean the terrorists!?" Samuel sputtered and dropped the slip of paper as if it were on fire.

Archibald sighed in exasperation as he bent down to retrieve the slip of paper.

"Listen to me, boy," he said as he rose back up. "Nadine was trained by Veruca, and if she's set her sights on your wife, then I imagine that everything that happened to me forty years ago is about to happen to you, too. Do yourself a favor and take it," he said as he offered the slip of paper again.

When Samuel showed no sign that he intended to accept it, Archibald quickly stepped forward and stuffed the slip of paper into Samuel's pants pocket.

"What are you doing," Samuel yelped as he began to struggle with Archibald.

Once again, Samuel was caught off guard by the old man's strength as he felt himself being pushed up against the wall of the shed, the smoking pipe clattering to the floor.

"Listen to me," Archibald hissed, "when the time comes you're going to be grateful to have this. When your wife returns, if your wife returns, Nadine will be with her, and you'll spend the rest of your life wishing that she'd never come back."

Archibald released Samuel and retrieved his pipe from the floor.

"At first Nadine will be kind to you, loving even; she will shower you with affection and make you feel wanted and valued. But it's all an act; the Confessors know that they need men to keep the wheels of society turning, so she will placate you with false intimacy to keep you complacent. All the while, she'll be deepening her bond with your wife, and, before you know it, you'll be relegated to the role of live-in servant within your own home."

For the second time, Samuel remembered his talk with Edward and how meek and defeated he'd sounded, home alone with no idea where his wife might be. Was that really what was going to happen to him?

No, you fool! Samuel cursed himself in his mind. He's a terrorist; he's trying to trick you!

"You're lying?" Samuel said defiantly. "Why would the Church allow this? Why would the Goddess allow this? The Confessors are her chosen representatives; they must have a reason that you don't understand!"

"Are you still saying that shit?" said Archibald sounding even more tired than before. "The Confessors are just thugs drunk off their own power. Do you really think the Goddess as anything to do with this, boy?"

Samuel just stared back at the old man without saying a word.

Archibald scoffed.

"Fine. Be that way." He walked past Samuel to the door of the shed and opened it as he mumbled to himself. "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it pull its head out of its ass and drink."

He looked back over his shoulder at Samuel, "I've said all that I had to say; you're free to go. I'll do you one last favor and go check to make sure you didn't wake up any of the priestesses. Wait here and I'll come get you if it's safe. You better not come back to this church after this, you hear me? I won't be here to save you next time."

Before Archibald left the shed he added, "And make sure you don't lose that paper, boy. You'll need it."

Samuel watched as Archibald slowly disappeared down the long alley. As soon as he was far enough away, he pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket. Just having it on his person was making him feel nervous, and there was no way he was going to trust some crazy old man he'd just met. He was about to tear it to pieces when he heard a woman's voice moaning in the distance. A very familiar sounding voice.

He cautiously stepped out of the shed and listened carefully. Even though he could barely make out the words, there was no mistaking who the voice belonged to.

"Delilah..." he whispered.

Looking around him, he saw a path next to the shed he hadn't noticed when Archibald had first dragged him down the alley. Delilah's voice seemed to be coming from that direction so he followed it, unconsciously placing the piece of paper back into his pocket as he did so.

With every step he took, Delilah's voice grew louder and clearer. Until, finally, he stood below an open window about two feet above him, listening to his wife's moans of pleasure.

"Oh, Goddess... Oh, Goddess, yes! Yes!" she cried in ecstasy.

The mad impulse to see his wife returning to him, he pulled himself up on the wall and slowly peered into the window. On a large bed in the middle of the room, Samuel saw Delilah straddling Nadine as she lay on her back. Delilah was completely naked, and the low light of the moon coming in through the window glistened off her sweat covered body. In contrast to Delilah's nakedness, Nadine wore a white silken robe with golden edges, and a golden featureless mask covered her face.

Delilah was wildly shaking her hips up and down, impaling herself on the Spear, as Nadine reached up to lazily fondle his wife's large bouncing breasts.

"Yes, my child. Just like that. Show me your love. Show me your devotion," Nadine said through the mask.

"Oh, Dyanarah! I love... I love you so much!" Delilah cried as she suddenly increased her pace, causing Nadine to moan deeply. "...I'm going to... I'm going to...Ah... Aahhh... AAARGHHH!!"

Delilah climaxed so forcefully that her cry of pleasure sounded like a cry of pain, the steady grinding of her hips becoming spasmodic jerks as her orgasm overwhelmed her.

Nadine cradled Delilah in her arms as she recovered from her orgasm and began whispering things to her that he couldn't quite make out. He started to lean closer, trying to hear what she was saying, when he felt a hand pull hard on the waistband of his pants and he fell back onto the path below.

Samuel panicked for a moment, fearing he had been caught, but relaxed when he turned and saw Archibald's wrinkled face glaring back at him in the darkness.

Archibald cuffed Samuel on the back of his head.

"You really have a death wish, don't you boy?" he growled quietly. "Come on, before you get yourself in trouble."

"But my wife—" Samuel began, but Archibald grabbed him by his collar as he had done before and started dragging him away.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" Archibald hissed. "Well, that might be useful in the future. But right now it's just a pain in my ass. Now come on, move."

Archibald dragged Samuel back down the path he'd followed and down the alleyway again. By the time they reached the front of the church, Delilah's moans had started up again and Samuel stood on the sidewalk staring helplessly in their direction.

"Go home, boy," said Archibald after a moment, his voice sounding almost compassionate. "You'll have a lot more to worry about than your marriage if you get caught now."

The old man was right; coming to the church had been a bad enough decision, but staying after being given the chance to leave would be even worse. Samuel got into his car and left the church, but the sound of Delilah's screams of pleasure didn't seem to get any quieter no matter how far he drove.

***

It wasn't until he got home that the gravity of the conversation he'd had with Archibald sank in; if he was telling the truth, then that meant that not only had Samuel met a terrorist, but he had also tried to recruit him. Once again Samuel felt the urge to tear up the slip of paper and pulled it out of his pocket.

But he hesitated.

What if everything the old man had told him was true? What if Delilah really never came back? And if she did come back, what if she brought Nadine with her? Would that mean that what he experienced at the wedding consultation would become his daily life? Would he end up like Edward? Could he really live like that?

Samuel held the slip of paper in his hand, too fearful of the knowledge it held to open it up and read it, and too uncertain of his future with Delilah to throw it away. In the end, he took out his wallet and stuffed it deep inside.

He still couldn't bring himself to sleep in their bed so, once again, he spent the night on the couch. However, sleep did not come easily and the morning sun was shining through the windows before he finally managed to drift off.

When he woke up, he called his boss and told him that his sickness had gotten worse. Fortunately, he had saved up quite a few sick days, so that was one less thing for him to worry about. Then he paid a visit to the grocery store and stocked up on alcohol, ready-made dinners and everything else he thought he might need. If he couldn't go to see Delilah at the church, then he wanted to make sure he was home if she came back to him.

'When' not 'If', He told himself, trying to shake off his doubts. Delilah was definitely coming back. He just had to trust that and wait for her.

The week that followed was stressful for him. He spent his days pacing around the house and jumping at every noise that came from the front door, and his nights struggling to find sleep on the couch as he dreamt of Delilah.

The second week was more difficult. He started having trouble sleeping and the exhaustion was causing his mind to play tricks on him; making him think he'd heard the front door open when it hadn't. He stopped cleaning up after himself and the empty beer cans and food trays began to pile up around him in the living room. At his lowest points during that week, he'd listen to the recording that Nadine had sent him just to hear Delilah's voice.

It was the third week that finally broke him. His anxiety grew so intense that he stopped eating, and he went days at a time without sleep for fear that he might miss Delilah when she came home. When he did sleep, he had nightmares where instead of Delilah, Nadine would walk through the front door claiming to be his new wife. He began trying to call Nadine every day but his calls always went to voicemail, and the messages he left were becoming more desperate and pleading with each failed attempt.

Then one night as he sat awake unable to sleep, Samuel found himself watching one of the 24-hour religious channels. They were playing a re-run of the special sermon given by the Mother Confessor that Delilah had wanted to watch. Samuel had been distracted by his own thoughts that day, but there was nothing to distract him now. He listened as the Mother Confessor spoke of the Goddess's love and mercy; how it was never too late to turn to her and receive her forgiveness; how all are accepted, and none are turned away.

Samuel felt tears stinging his eyes as he listened to the sermon. He fell to his knees in front of the image of the Mother Confessor and, for the first time in years, he prayed to the Goddess.

He asked Her to forgive him for his lack of faith in Her, and the disrespect he'd shown the Church and one of her chosen Confessors. He promised that he would become a better servant to Her and do Her will. All he wanted in return, was for his Delilah to come back to him.

He was in the middle of trying to remember the 'Prayer of the Sinner' he had been taught as a child when he heard the front door open.

At first, he thought it was his sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on him again, but then, a moment later, he saw the silhouette of a woman standing in the entrance to the living room. When she reached out her hand and turned the light on, Samuel burst into tears.

It was Delilah.

"Deli..." he struggled out through his choked sobs as he tried to stand up and go to her, but he had been on his knees for too long.

His numb legs folded beneath him, and he ended up falling face-first among the refuse scattered on the floor.

"Samuel!" Delilah exclaimed as she rushed over and knelt beside him. "Samuel, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"

Samuel felt a throbbing pain in his forehead but it was overwhelmed by Delilah's scent as she drew near to him. He reached out to wrap his arms around her waist and buried his face in her thighs as he continued to sob inconsolably; nearly a month's worth of unshed tears finally finding release.