John 8:32

21 - Proverbs 29:11

Fools give full vent to their rage, but the wise bring calm in the end.

Damien was worried sick about Spencer.

Genuinely, he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't even sleep.

Technically, he wasn't supposed to leave the dorms at night unless it was an emergency. Damien considered this an emergency. He knew how to avoid the cameras anyways. Spencer showed him all of the blind spots.

Out of the dorms undetected — Damien had to stop himself from running towards the church. He didn't know for sure that Spencer was there, but he knew. It was late to be out, but Damien didn't blame him. He'd spend as much time away from home as he could too.

The worst part was he didn't even know. Damien didn't know how Spencer was doing. What his father had done to him. The punishment he endured. It had to be bad. Damien could tell as much.

Spencer never stood by his father. He always outright defied his decisions.

Don't disrespect my father.

The words still rang in Damien's ears. Spencer's voice sounded so empty then. Even worse were his eyes. Spencer always had a sort of fire in his eyes. Not anymore.

Damien nearly crashed into the church doors as he reached them. He was expecting them to open. Did Spencer lock the doors behind him? He never remembered to do that.

Clearly, because that's what got them into this whole mess.

He thought that maybe Spencer had changed his ways until—

Duh. They were pull doors. Damien was trying to push them open. A short tug on the handle and the door was swinging open.

Damien knew where Spencer was. He headed straight for the worship hall.

It was huge when it was empty. And dark. The only light fell through the skylight above the altar — the moon was full that night. The moonlight cast deep shadows over Spencer's face, knelt at the altar, that damn rosary tangled around his hands.

Damien found himself frozen in the doorway of the worship hall for a moment. Spencer was too lost in prayer to even notice.

"Spence," Damien's voice choked out. It carried a lot farther than he was expecting.

Spencer's face shot up, eyes like a deer in headlights.

"Who's there?"

Panic seized Spencer's voice and it was only then that Damien remembered he was shrouded in darkness.

"Shit, sorry," he apologized, walking down the aisle towards the altar, "It's Damien."

"Yates," all the life drained from Spencer's voice as Damien stepped up onto the altar.

"I knew you'd be here," Damien breathed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm talking some damn sense into you," Damien stepped forward towards Spencer. Spencer stepped back.

"Nothing you say counts as damn sense," Spencer bristled, clutching his rosary in one hand.

"Can't you see what this is doing to you?" Damien breathed, desperate for his words to catch on something in Spencer's heart. He didn't know how Spencer couldn't see. He was broken on the inside. Everything that made him Spencer was gone and replaced with this... shell. This shell of the old Spencer that Damien knew, and begrudgingly, loved, "Your precious religion is destroying you."