Devotion (John Seed)

3. Wrath

The deputy waited for what seemed like hours, wondering when John would return and what he was going to do to her. Eventually the baptist walked back in, and walked around to stand in front of the woman. "Now that we are alone, let's get a good look at you"  John grinned darkly and reached for her beanie but she trashed and pulled away from him.

He let out a frustrated sigh before roughly grabbing the material of the beanie and pulling it off of her head, throwing it to the floor. He actually froze when her hair was released from the hat and fell over her face. It was shorter. Much shorter. Her red hair barely reached her shoulders anymore, John remembered her hair to be fiery and long. Now it was dirty with mud, sweat, and blood and it was much shorter. Cut messily with uneven lengths throughout it.

John ran a hand through her hair, lacing his fingers through it. Rook pulled away as much as she could but he didn't care, he continued to feel her dirty hair between his fingers. "I remember you from your first day in my brother's church. So much hope. Expectations. Eyes so bright as you cuffed him. A pretty little mind wondering what the future would bring" he spoke softly, caressing her cheek before pulling his hand away. "What happened to that. What happened to you?" he asked, back to his usual self, and smirked.

"You killed me" Rook spat back at him, thrashing towards him. There was almost a look of guilt in his eyes but it disappeared instantly.

"Killed you? No, I would never. I plan on giving you your life, to free you from sin, to give you clarity" John shook his head before grabbing another chair and pulling it up in front of Rook. He sat down in the chair and lent forward, resting his elbows on his slightly parted knees. "Now, what do you have to confess?" He asked, his blue eyes piercing her green ones.

"I have nothing to confess and even if I did I wouldn't tell you anything" Rook spat, leaning back in her chair stubbornly.

"Your sin, dear deputy, drives you. It fuels everything that you do...it's wrath" John concluded. "You allow your sin to consume you and control you, I want to help you" he spoke with a surprising softness. But she knew that it was fake, a false sense of security to manipulate her.

"How can you make people confess their sins to you, how can you criticise them and try to 'fix' them when you are sinful?" Rook asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly. She thought that the best thing to do was to hide her fear, even if it meant provoking the mentally unstable sadist.   

"I am trying to help them" John snapped and stood up abruptly, making the deputy flinch. "But people like you just don't understand" he shouted and held onto her wrists roughly, leaning forward towards her. He stopped moving when their faces where only inches apart. "...and I can see it in your eyes, deputy...you need help" he spoke, this time his voice was quiet and calm. Honey to Rook's ears. 

"Well I don't need your help" she assured him, her voice catching in her throat slightly. 

"Don't let your pride prevent you from getting help, from reaching atonement" John spoke softly again, his eyes scanning her face in a not so subtle manner. "Allow me to help you" he released one of her wrists and caressed her dirty cheek. The deputy didn't miss the slight begging in his voice, it was almost as if he wanted to actually help her. Maybe John really did believe that he is helping people... 

This time the deputy didn't respond, she didn't know how to. So John stood up straight once again and reached over to the little table beside her chair, picking up a cloth from the bowl. He squeezed it, some water trickling back into the bowl, before bringing it down to her chest. She pulled a face of disgust and tried to pull away from him, obviously her restraints held her in place. "Stop moving" he ordered a little harshly as he cleaned the dirt off of her chest. 

He glanced up at her face and paused when their eyes met, he removed the cloth from her chest and rinsed it in the water. He then leaned towards Rook again, this time wiping the cloth against her cheek, scrubbing away the dirt and dried blood. She just watched him, feeling helpless as she knew that he had all of the control. 

John let out a frustrated sigh before throwing the cloth back into the bowl. "Confession will free you from your burden. Now, we have plenty of time together so...lets begin" he smirked before sitting back in his chair. 

Rook kept a stern gaze on John, not saying a word. John waited, staring her in the eyes, trying to keep his cool. "Lets start small..." he eventually sighed, getting impatient. "What's your name? Surely it isn't deputy" John asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"What does my name have to do with confession?" Rook asked, rolling her eyes and slumping her shoulders.

"To truly confess and to truly be cleansed, you must be completely honest" the baptist explained, tilting his head at her.

"You are going to have to try harder than that, John" she scoffed. Her stubbornness was infuriating to John but the sound of her saying is name made him feel...something.

"I have been patient with you but I have been told that patience is not one of my virtues. You will reach atonement, it is my duty" John spoke softly but it was more sinister this time. He stood from his chair and walked over to his tool box, grabbing what looked like an ice pick. He returned to stand in front of the woman, holding it by his side in a firm grip. 

Rook's eyes flickered down to the weapon of choice before looking back up into his eyes, faking confidence once again. "Yeah, well good luck wi-" The deputy began to tease him but it ended with scream of pain as John jammed the ice pick into her thigh. 

"You will confess, you will atone, and you will walk through Eden's Gate" John assured her before leaning towards her. He cupped her face, lifting her chin up to meet his gaze before pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. She wanted to fight back but was too weak and in too much pain. 

John then pulled away and left the room, locking the door behind him. Leaving the deputy with an ice pick in her thigh, blood pouring from the wound. She was left to the sound of her own ragged breathing and the smell of her own blood and sweat.