Eyes Without A Face

Chapter 18 - Last Call

- Elin -

Köln, Germany, 27th of February 2019

I'm still thinking about the message I received from Alwin. It's impossible to find the actual reason why he'd change his mind so suddenly. From willing to give me the codex to destroying it, something smells off. And I'm too afraid that this is once again another one of his lies.

Certainly, I can ask him about it. But why bother? If he's trying to fool me one last time, I need to let him think that I already believed his words. That I don't have a doubt he's going to get rid of the codex. To ensure our safety.

The most irritating thing, though, is how dumb he considers me. Probably stupid enough to think that I'll fully trust him when it comes to my family's safety, including my own. Only for this aspect alone, I'm even more motivated to get there and put a bullet through his head. I'm so sick of his games.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." The priest recites the introductory formula from the other side of the confessional.

"Amen," I whisper after I finish making the sign of the cross.

I wasn't planning to get to confession today. Neither am I a practicing Catholic. But since I was already at our meeting spot at the cathedral, I felt like some sort of force was pushing me inside the confessional.

I was baptized Orthodox after my mother, yet we weren't too religious at home. My father was Catholic, though, from Spain. He didn't renounce his faith, yet had nothing to object about me inheriting my mother's Greek one.

My entire life I was pretty far from God, especially any sort of organized religion. Yet there are moments when guilt suffocates me. In times like these, I prefer to talk to a priest like he's my therapist. Not too detailed. I'm concerned to offer too much information about the things I've done, but explicit enough to probably scare the person listening to my confession.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was almost an year ago, and since then I've made the following sins."

I like the priests that don't interrupt me. The silent ones who let me talk until I remain empty, then offer just a couple of words and a derisory penance. Most of the times I can't really do them.

Once a funny Franciscan friar from Berlin has told me to try to refrain from killing someone for a week. But, to be damned, he chose the worst timing possible. It was a very busy month in the evil world, hence I was doing my job as well.

Now, I'm lucky to have found a silent priest. He listens. Doesn't even gasp when he hears my list of sins. I wonder if it's actually a thing for other people like me to do this kind of therapy, hence some priests aren't even impressed anymore. But the thing is that I get to pour out all the mistakes which were about to suffocate me. The crimes. The guilt. The good things I could've done and chose not to. Culminating with my worst mistake. Alwin.

"It's very important that you're here," the priest concludes. "The Lord, in his infinite mercy, doesn't find any sin impossible to forgive as long as there's repentance. The fact that you're brave enough to confess is the first and most important part. Now onto the other side..."

This is what gives me the most anxiety, as not too many priests understand this world nor have any contact with it. They're just judging according to the little information I offer, but I'm not here for a lighter penance. I just needed to get these things out of my soul, to be free.

"I must apologize, father," I say, making the sign of the cross while getting up, "I don't think I'm experiencing full contrition when it comes to my long list of crimes. Not yet, though."