Page 64 of On Your Knees

His eyes jump from the stairwell to me, but I give him nothing. I am aware, on a certain level, that something has broken in my mind, but I can’t do anything about it.

I did warn him, after all, that he wasn’t safe with me.

He accepted that in the beginning, and he accepts it now. He heads down the steps.

What he hasn’t accepted is his sin. His arms are crossed tightly over his ribs like he can hide what he did. But sin cannot be hidden from God.

I pull the door shut behind me and follow Levi down to the sprawling, cold, gritty space of the cellar.

The house is old, and the previous owner restored most of it, but she didn’t get to the cellar before she died. Though I didn’t intend to finish her work, I also didn’t intend to use the space.

I intended to ignore it.

In fact, I didn’t really plan to spend much time at this house at all. It was an investment, in the beginning.

But this fucking cellar.

It was all I could think about.

I would come down here compulsively. It was so private. It was so dark and cold. It was so familiar. It would make images flash through my head—so I started to draw them. Then I started to create them, perfect them, paint them.

They’re my confessions.

Levi halts a few feet into the cavernous space. I could turn on more lights, but I like the way the harsh central one is blazing down from the heavy beams of the ceiling, making a spotlight on the old stone floor. The mirrors, varied in their frames and sizes, catch gleams of the light from the shadows.

Levi’s eyes are bouncing around. There’s a lot to see. The old shelves and wine racks hold supplies: pencils and paint, brushes, and everything else needed to write my confessions. Then there are whips and shackles and ropes. There are pieces of furniture too, more brutal versions of what I have in the playroom at the penthouse, plus other props. This space, though, is not for play. It’s for atonement.

That’s why I’ve brought Levi here.

To confess.

To repent.

I will make him understand his sin. I will show it to him.

I’ve never drawn any sin but my own. I’ve never brought anyone here. But Levi is mine. And his sin is mine too.

I take off my clothes, dropping them on the floor. My right shoe is bloody inside, and my shirt is torn. There’s dirt and debris all over my sweats. I’m not wearing the cock cage. I haven’t for several days. I don’t even know where it is. But I’m not hard. Maybe that’s broken too, like my head.

“Strip,” I order Levi.

“Why? What’s happening?”

“I’m going to draw your atonement.”

“My atonement?”

“Yes.”

Levi swallows hard. His eyes are huge and confused, but he’ll understand by the end.

Repentance is necessary.

There’s not much for Levi to take off, just his sweats and blood-smeared T-shirt. His hands are shaking the whole time. I feel my eyelashes flutter, like I’m having a reaction to him, but I don’t know what it is. I don’t register any particular feeling.

For a moment, I’m frozen, and Levi, with no direction, sits on the floor and draws up his knees. He hooks his arms around them and drops his head.

Despair.