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“Amen,” she whispers.
“Now you tell me what you need to tell me.”
“Everything?” she asks, her voice quaking.
“It's a sin to leave anything out. Tell me everything.”
She takes a deep breath. I hear it shudder in her chest. Her shoulders work slightly. She must be wringing her small, delicate hands together. I almost want to chuckle. What could she possibly have done that could be so bad?
“Father Daddy, I believe there may be a demon inside me,” she says, her voice rising to a squeak at the end.
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to respect her feelings. This poor child. How could she possibly believe such a thing?
“What makes you think so?”
“It's just… I'm not sure… I don't think I can say.”
I lean forward slightly in the chair. I can still smell the white soap.
“Tell me everything, Angel.”
She takes another deep breath, then another. I hear her sniffle, as though s
he has started to cry.
“When Gina… Obedience, I mean… When she had her ceremony with you I — oh, I can't!”
“Angel!” I bark at her. I'm beginning to lose patience with this, which is starting to sound like a rather childish game to get my attention. “What does this have to do with Gina? Obedience, I mean?”
She sniffles several times. “I… saw you,” she whispers.
I can't believe what I'm hearing. What is this?
“Angel, what are you saying? You saw what?”
Her shoulders shudder. “I — I snuck out of our house and went to the far side of the barn… There's a gap in the barn boards there and I… I didn't mean to, Father Daddy! I promise I didn't mean to see!”
My hands grip the armrests of my simple chair. “You didn't mean to see what? Angel, tell me everything!”
“You… and Brother Owen. You were there, with her. The aunties were there, and took off your clothes. And you were… with her. I mean, first Brother Owen was… I don't know. Something. Something with her mouth. And then you…”
Her voice trails off but I wave my hand in the air. “That's quite enough,” I tell her sharply.
“I didn't mean to do it!”
My jaw clenches. I can’t stand people who won’t take responsibility for their actions.
“I think we both know that's not true, Angel. And I don't think blaming a demon for your actions is anything but cowardly.”
Her shoulders shake violently as she mumbles something else under her breath.
“What did you say?”
My irritation is building. I should try to be more understanding, but I dislike when people evade and avoid the purifying therapy of the rituals. It’s good for them. Why can’t they see it?
“I said, that wasn't the… um, that's not the demon,” she whimpers pitifully.
My eyes search the ceiling. I really should not be in here with her. Especially not if she witnessed the deflowering ceremony. This is not the way things are supposed to go. I should be away from her. What did I even want to come here in the first place?
