John 8:32

17 - Psalm 44:21

If we did, then God knows it, because he knows our deepest secrets.

Spencer couldn't breathe. His entire body shook from the inside out and he couldn't fucking breathe.

Damien left and he was alone with his father and it was silent. He just stood at his desk — sighing every so often. He couldn't even look at Spencer.

He didn't want any of this to happen. That's why he didn't want to make any of this real. Because shit like this happened. And it was more real than he could bear.

"I'm not going home with you," Spencer finally managed to make the words come out of his mouth.

"I am your father," his dad didn't even look up to speak to him, "You will do as I say."

"I'm not going home with you so you can hit me," Spencer finally found his voice, and even though it shook with every syllable he was speaking up.

"You need to learn," Spencer could see his father's hands tighten into fists where they rested on the desk.

"You're not going to touch me," Spencer breathed, locking eyes with his father as he looked up.

Spencer didn't break eye contact. This was a battle of wills, and he was going to win. He stared wordlessly into his father's eyes, trying to steel his resolve. No matter how that look in his father's eyes made Spencer feel — he wasn't going to let himself break.

He held his gaze steady, until finally.

"I will not touch you."

"Thank you."

"You will be going to confession, meeting with one of my colleagues from Saint Albert's down the road," Spencer's father continued, like this was some... business transaction, or something. Some contract.

Spencer swallowed hard and nodded, trying to calm the circles his mind was running in.

"Go sit in the worship hall, Father Johnathan will be with you soon," his father ordered, "Spend some time with God while you wait."

Spencer couldn't even think about disobeying his dad. Not right now. His body moved of its own volition towards the sanctuary — walking him down the hallway, through the crowds of people. None of them had any clue what was happening. They were all blissfully unaware of Spencer's entire life crumbling around him.

The lights had already been shut off in the worship hall when Spencer walked in. The only light came from the skylight above the altar. His father didn't follow him in. Spencer supposed he was thankful for that.

His father told him to spend time with God — but Spencer didn't feel very connected to any higher power right now. How was he supposed to? What God would make him suffer like this? Definitely not the all-loving one his father preached of.

Spencer pulled the rosary from his pocket — staring at the tangled strands of beads in his palm. When he was lost he always felt like he could turn to prayer. He prayed the damn thing every night, for Christ's sake. He kept it attached to his belt most of the time. He hadn't been so much lately, but Spencer kept it on him anyways. It was his mother's first and foremost. The last reminder he had of her. He felt so far removed from his faith right now.

Spencer couldn't even bring himself to pray. He just... sat there. Staring at the rosary in his hand.

The panic had left him now, and Spencer just felt... empty. Empty couldn't even begin to describe it. He wanted to just... fall to the ground and stay there for forever.

Somebody sat down next to him.

"Spencer," the man spoke, and Spencer couldn't bring himself to look over. Not yet, "I'm Father Johnathan."

He reached out a hand for Spencer to shake, and he took it.

"I understand you have some things you want to tell me," Father Johnathan hummed, like this was just every day for him. Spencer supposed it was every day for him. People always had things to confess. Some of them more than others.

Spencer simply nodded, touching his fingertips to his forehead, down to his sternum, then his left and right shoulder respectively. He mumbled the words to the sign of the cross as he did so — trying to ignore the way Father Johnathan's gaze bore into him.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned," Spencer hardly had to think about the words coming out of his mouth. He went to confession quite often, it was habit at this point, "It has been a month since my last confession."

Father Johnathan nodded, and Spencer swallowed hard, trying to steel himself for what he had to say next. This part wasn't easy. This part wasn't habit. Spencer hadn't said it aloud ever. Not even to himself when he was alone.

"I have engaged in sinful acts with another man, many times, over the past year."

And that was it. It was out there.