Our Salvation

3. The Occupations

February 2th, 1905

          This Church was ,indeed, the grandest Church Emilia had ever seen. It was far more significant than the Church she left back at home. The monolithic beauty, magnificent statues, and humongous stained glass windows imposed on all the buildings that flanked it left pale compared to its spires. Even the pews and Bibles were very well-kept.

It all intimated Emilia.

During mass, Emilia struggled to keep her breathing under control; the entire Church's atmosphere seemed nerve-wracking. Moreover, the sermon echoed in a tone unfamiliar to her. She watched tiny dust hairs fly around her from the sun through the windows.

Finally, when mass ended, Emilia quickly stood by the front doors to catch a bit of fresh air. The sunlight was weak but welcoming, the snow thin and stinging her delicate hands.

It fell like dusted sugar, drifting down from the heavens and upon the townspeople as they left.

A heavy hand rested on her shoulder. "Good morning Sister Emilia," said a tall man with a simple smile. Father James Willis stood a good six feet. He kept his hair glossed back and his attire neat. His posture spoke of authority, and when he smiled, the gesture almost didn't seem to reach his eyes. "How did you find your first mass?" He asked.

"Ha, far more than I am quite used to," Emilia admitted.

Father James's smile enlarged, but his eyes stayed cold. He gently squeezed her shoulder before letting his hand fall to clasp his hands together.

"I'd imagine so," the man said. "This isn't your little hometown, after all."

Those words slightly stung Emilia a bit, but she kept it together.

"No, it is not like home at all." She responded.

"This city will eat you alive if you're not careful, especially for a young girl like yourself," Father James said.

Emilia tensed. Her parents had said the same thing to her.

"The southern side of the city especially. Narcotics, immigrants. The insane." He explained. He paused to look off into the distance. "And the worthless criminals," he looks back at her. "Such evil beings, if you see one, make sure to keep your distance, Emilia. Those evildoers will do anything to the pure." He ever so slowly glanced over her body. Emilia felt uncomfortable under his glance and shifted her body.

This discussion piqued her interest because she thought about all the ex-criminals back home. Their appearances weren't the best. But they repented and were kind. How they would help anyone if asked despite what her parents had said about them.

"But once one repents for their actions, shouldn't they still be treated with equal respect?" asked Emilia.

"Ha.." Father James laughed. "Equal?...their actions are what led them to become who they are."

Emilia found his comment disturbing. He turned about to head back inside but stopped.

"This snow," Father James muttered. "At least it is good for one thing."

"What do you mean, Father?" She asked, unable to keep her eyes off him.

"The cold will thin the herd," Father James muttered into the chilling air.

Those nasty words sunk into Emilia's stomach like burning hot coals.

Her face flushed with heat.

"To wish death upon any person, regardless of -" She was stopped midway through her sentence when Father James looked up, his eyes narrowed, iris the color of darkness.