Sin Eater

6.

Martin donned the Sin Eater robes with solemn responsibility. A young girl, lanky with auburn hair and freckles, had passed that afternoon. A student of Diana's, he could hear the suppressed sniffles downstairs. The notebook was open, the last pages laying naked in the dim candle light. Martin took a deep breath and went downstairs. Diana sat on the weathered couch, staring at the mantel.

"Why are you going?" Diana whispered, "She's eleven, Martin."

"I know," Martin didn't make eye contact, he wasn't any happier about this part of his job, "I'm going because I have too. It's my job."

"You only get a couple dollars and bread," Diana's grief fueling her words, "Hardly a paying job."

Martin sighed, "I know."

The night air was humid and heavy, weighing on Martin as he shuffled through the quiet streets. Even the crickets were muted this melancholy night. Only the dull thudding of wooden utensils interrupted the silence.

The house he entered was dark, only snubs of candles burning dimly. He could hear the muffled sobs of a woman coming from the other room. Martin fought the churning in his stomach. The smell of beer and cigarettes had soaked into the warped paneling, staining the wood with poison.

Martin came upon them in the living room. An older man sat in an arm chair, staring blankly ahead with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and a cold can in his hand. The man didn't notice Martin's appearance. The young girl was laid out on a make shift cot in the center of the room, her mother weeping quietly over her. The body swollen and light blue, soggy from drowning. The woman looked up at him, her eyes red.

"He's here Luke," her voice warbled when she spoke, staring awestruck at the Sin Eater,

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Luke huffed, "Go git his bread and beer, let the man do his job."

"Are you sure she needs this, Luke?" The woman pleaded, 'She's a girl, and we went to church every Sunday."

"Git his damn food Nancy!" Luke shouted, causing Martin and Nancy to flinch in unison, "She's just as filthy as the rest of us, child or not. You want her to go to Hell? Huh Nancy? You want your little girl going to Hell?"

The woman sobbed and shook her head before running from the room. Martin glared at the man from under his veil. Nancy returned with stale bread and a can of beer, her expression apologetic.

"It's all we have until the food stamps renew," The woman shrugged, offering her humble meal. Martin accepted it graciously, noticing the bruises that laced her wrists. The Sin Eater suddenly noticed the only thing missing was the girl's spirit. It wasn't so uncommon, children usually passed quickly.

Martin began his incantations anyway, never one to disappoint even a grieving audience. As he spoke, wispy tendrils formed over the hunk of bread. He could hear echoing sobs. Martin slowed the pace of his words, knowing the ways of spirits and the ways of children. When the wisps faded, Martin took his bread and beer and ate quickly under the steely eye of Luke while Nancy cried quietly.

Diana greeted him at the door, her face pale and tears had run mascara down her cheeks. They didn't speak as Martin undressed himself, wrapping himself in a robe and making his way to the journal. He could feel the young girl's voice creeping up, wanting to be heard like all children do. He dipped the quill and began.

Diana slept while the Sin Eater carefully edited the girl's story, binding her guilt to the pages and swallowing the sins she endured. He took his time, listening to every word, hoping the pages healed her in her final phase. He felt the sins settling on his chest, waiting for release. Martin wrote in small precise handwriting, filling the last of the journal pages with the young girl's misplaced guilt.