NOTE: This story is based on true events and may not be suitable for some readers.

A little wooden grill slides open and the friendly face of the village Priest peers into the dim light. He glances about in the dark. "Is anybody there?"
A small hand appears - then the face of a girl aged about 14, peers up at him through the grill.

The Priest smiles a trifle wearily. "You know I'm always happy to see you, Jeanne, but to keep coming here twice, three times a day..."

"I need to confess."

"But you already confessed this morning..."

"I need to confess again."

"So... alright. What terrible sin have you committed since then that can't wait till tomorrow to be forgiven?

Jeanne steps in front of the prayer-stool, close enough to look the Priest in the eyes. "I saw Father Mulligan on the corner when I was walking home. He called me a name."

"What did he call you?"

"He said I was a slut."

"I'm sure you misunderstood him, Jeanne."

"No...he said slut. I could hear him say it while he was staring at me. So I decided to shut him up."

"What do you mean shut him up," the Priest moving his face closer to the screen.

"I asked him if we could talk around the side of the building in the alley."

"And?"

"He followed me...then stopped at the edge of the alley and said he didn't want to waste his time talking to a whore."

"Are you sure this was Father Mulligan, Jeanne?"

"I'm not blind you know..."

"I didn't say that.."
Silence.
"Jeanne?"

"I thought you wanted to listen to me. I need to confess."

"I'm sorry Jeanne, I'll listen."

"Guess he got interested cuz he followed me down the alley...then I stopped and leaned against a storage door. I felt his hands on me pulling my clothes off...he was breathing hard. That's when I shoved my knife into his stomach and ripped the blade through all of that disgusting flesh...he was screaming like a pig...you're just the same, aren't you Father," moving her face against the wooden grill. "Wanting little girls. I'll never forgive you, you sick bastard."

A rattling of the Priest's door could be heard, then pounding in the dark.

"Aren't you going to bless me Father? Or maybe we should talk about Sarah. Remember Sarah Father? My little sister?"

More pounding and hard breathing could be heard. "Damn door is stuck."

"Ya, I broke the lock," pausing. "What about Sarah Father? Remember raping her? Then letting her bleed to death out in the woods?"

A chair turns over as the Priest presses his face against the grill. "I don't know what you're talking about...open the door," smelling his sweat drip on the grill.

"Sure Father. Wanna confess your sins? I didn't think so," thrusting a thin blade through the grill deep into his eye, turning the blade around in circles. "I guess I'm forgiven now," pulling the knife out. "That's for Sarah you bastard," walking out of the old confessional booth into the dimly lit hallway of the church.

- Story by Abbie Stewart
- Photo: Confessional Booth, Abbie Stewart Photography.