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Shit I've forgot the lines. Fuck, how does it start? I try to remember the information from the Google searches I made the previous night. I'd make a shit Catholic. [Naturally]

"Hello, are you okay there?", his voice. [His voice] It was hotter than I remembered.

"I..." I squirm in my seat. I can't seem to get my words out. I look around the confessional box. Just as it was last time, except for no G&T glass on the side, probably for the best. 

"It's okay if you're nervous, just take your time". He sounds so concerned, so priestly. [So hot]

I bite on my lip thinking about how to open this conversation. It's been 3 months since I last spoke to him, 3 months since I told him I fucking loved him, 3 months since he chose God over me so what the fuck was I doing here?

"Is this your first time? Do you need me..", I let out a short laugh as I recollect my last and only confession. He stops speaking. A churchly silence lingers. Did he recongise my laugh?

"I thought I banned you from my church?", he inquires lightheartedly. [He recognised my laugh]

"Well, you know me Father, somewhat of a rule breaker".

I hear him chuckle, "Just somewhat?".

I laugh at his accusation, "Yes, just somewhat". God I've missed this. 

"So what sins have you come to repent since your last confession?" he inquires in an attempt to keep professional. [That's not going to last]

"Well, I've become an art thief again", I hear him laugh. "I've drank, I've cried, I've had more sex outside of marriage and you could say some sex inside someone else's marriage". I try not to linger on that point. "More drinking, a lot more crying, a tad bit more sex, then slightly less drinking, considerably less crying, virtually no sex but plenty of masturbation, and of course the endless fucking blasphemy but that's a given". 

I hear him let out a short chuckle but the godly silence quickly returns.

After three months of separation we are but inches apart separated by a wooden divider. I run my finger across the bottom of the window pane, pining to get closer to him.

"Why are you actually here today?". His voice startles me and I quickly drop my hand down and catch my breath. I take a moment to think, although in reality this is all I've thought about since I first decided to come here a few days ago. [Weeks ago] I can feel my mouth dry up and I try to salivate. The silence is actually killing me. 

"Guidance", I finally manage to let out.


"And... and advice".

"Okay. Go on".

I start to regret coming here. Or at least regret coming here sober. This is way too difficult to do without alcohol. I leave the silence to linger between us as I sit and recollect about the last time we were here.

"And...?", I forgot how irritating his formal interrogation was.

"I don't suppose you have any G&Ts out back?", I ask sarcastically. [But not really]

I hear him let out a small chuckle and feel slightly relieved to break the tension.

"I don't I'm afraid. I laid off the stuff". Oh God he's become more holy. Well he did choose God so this shouldn't come as a surprise.

"How's your cafe?", I'm thankful he's reverted to informal questioning.

"Fine yeah, really fine". [It isn't]

"And Hillary?".

"She's fine" [She wasn't] "Just up to her usual guinea pig.. antics". I hear him laugh. He got on quite well with Hillary. She definitely preferred him over me. Although I think she preferred most people over me.

"And you? Are you well?".

"I'm fine, I mean, I'm, I", I can't do this.

"Besides the art thievery, drinking, and sex, you're fine?".

"Remember I don't do those anymore".

"Ah, gotch' you".

I missed our conversations; sitting outside at night, 'fending him from foxes whilst he 'fended the Bible from my questioning. God I really missed his friendship.

"Seriously, how are you?". Silence. "You still don't like answering questions". He remembered. 

I sit in the darkness and close my eyes. I go against my gut instinct and channel the last three months of emotions.


"I'm sorry?" 

"I'm sad" I repeat again. "And I'm empty, like there's nothing in there any longer" I say whilst pointing at my chest.

"I'm sorry to hear you've been feeling like this". He sounds sincere, and slightly guilty.

"And I'm lonely, just really fucking lonely, you know?".

He doesn't respond.

"And overtime I've just exacerbated all of my outflows. Alcohol doesn't give me any joy just numbness" I can feel my eyes start to well up. "I don't feel anything from crying just empty tears." I let out an exasperated gasp, "not even sex gives me gratification anymore, sex?!". I can feel the tears roll down my face, burning against my flushed cheeks.

"And I know I said I don't feel anything, but at the same time I do. I have this painful emptiness that's just yearning for.." I stutter a little as I try to reach the correct words "something, and I don't know what to do". I sniff up my tears. God I sound like a fucking mess. 

"So please tell me what I should do?". I sit agitated as he responds with silence.

More silence.

I contemplate whether to be direct. I feel myself becoming engulfed with tears. Fuck it.

"You said it'd pass Father, you said it would pass and my God have I tried to make "it" go away but it's been three months now, and, well I'm fucked, and exhausted. And, I have no idea what I'm meant to do from here. So can you just fucking tell me what to do Father".

I place my head in my hands as I try to regain composure, waiting for his answer. An answer I've been seeking for a long time. 

After what felt like an eternity I hear his voice, stern and deep.


I raise my head slightly confused and taken back. "What?"

"Leave" he repeats again, but this time with a crack in his voice. He clears his throat. "With the kindest of regards, please leave, and don't come back".

I had my answer. I feel my stomach churn and the empty hollow ache as he repeated the words again.

I stand myself up and look towards the opaque curtain, facing his direction. I try to picture him in his robes facing me. I go to apologise but I am swiftly interrupted by his voice.

"Don't... please".

His once stern and deep voice was now filled with sadness. He no longer attempted to hide his emotion from me, sniffing at what I assume are his tears.

I feel my eyes start to re-well up. I turn and make my exit from the darkness, squinting as the sun light hits my tear filled eyes. I head towards the main door and hurry out of his Church. I have my answer, but I have no idea what to do with it.