Wings

17: If I Ain't Clean, You're The Vice

WPOV

Track: I'm The Sinner, Jared Benjamin

For the first four days, I'm a prisoner but nothing worse.

I'm not allowed to leave my room, and no one is allowed to enter, either. My father leaves me my meals for the day in the morning, and I don't see anyone else for the rest of the day. I spend my time pacing in my room, restless and worried and trying not to think about Nico's face as I told the general that he was a monster. My room isn't large, but it must be more comfortable than wherever Nico is right now, and that makes me want to tear the whole house apart if it means I can escape and get to him.

On the second day, I tried to break out when my father brought my daily meals, but he caught my wrists as I plowed into him, shoving me back and pulling an arm behind my back until I heard a pop!

On the third day, I tried again and again I failed. On the fourth day, my father did not bring any meals. On the fifth day, when the heavy bedroom door starts to creak as it opens, I swivel, stopping my pacing to face the door with a pounding heart. I prepare to try to escape again—

It's Mr. Chase standing in the doorway, medical bag in hand. My father stands behind him holding a plate, and the priest stands beside him, eyes cold. I can't win a fight three-on-one. I swallow nervously, frozen—but then I think of Nico in a cell, and my gut wrenches, and I surge forward anyway.

Mr. Chase's eyes widens, and he quickly steps aside to let me through, but the priest and my father are there to block me immediately. They're not gentle. The priest catches me first as I try to make it through the doorway, and he grabs me by my wrist in one hand and then uses his other hand to grab my throat and shove me bag. I try wrestling my arm out of the priest's grip, so my father grabs my arms and drags me back into my bedroom, his fingertips leaving bruises in my biceps. He shoves me at the ground, and I fall.

My father shuts and locks the door behind him, and now the three men watch as I try to stand. Mr. Chase is at my side in an instant to try to help me to my feet, and his expression is dark—how did they even convince him to help? Or did they not tell him what they're doing? Why would they want a doctor's help, if the goal is to punish me? Wouldn't healing be counterintuitive?

When I'm on my feet, I reach for the plate of food in my father's hands—I'm hungry from eating nothing at all yesterday.

My father holds the plate out of my reach, and I stiffen.

"We don't feed sinners. If you do as you're told, you'll be rewarded. Until then, we must focus on meeting your spiritual needs before we meet your physical needs."

I think about saying, you mean your spiritual needs, right? But I decide against it at the last minute, too concerned over whether they'll take the food away if I talk back. I keep my mouth shut.

"Sir," Mr. Chase says warily, "it's not a good idea to neglect his health—withholding food for long periods of time can—"

"This body is temporary," the priest corrects. "Even if this body withers and dies, we must ensure his soul finds a permanent spot in heaven—would you rather him be comfortable now and burn in Hell for the rest of eternity, or to have temporary comfort now but be free of sin at the time he faces judgment?"

Mr. Chase steps slightly in front of me so that his shoulder blocks me from my father and the priest. "Surely your powers as a priest are not so limited that you can only help him while he's starving, yes? Feed him now and speak with him about God. Both can be done at the same time, correct?"

Or don't speak with me about God at all, I think bitterly. Then I remember that Nico must have it much worse than I do, and I immediately feel guilty for complaining at all.