God & Sinner

19. The Gift

Horror gripped me as I stared at Benjamin, but the roles were reversed this time, because for once he couldn't look at me. It wasn't like I needed to check the tombstone again to be sure that it was his name carved into it, but I glanced anyway, hoping to understand it somehow. I couldn't wrap my mind around it, how after all the time I'd spent with him I still hadn't figured it out. Maybe he could sense the feeling of betrayal that stirred in me, and maybe that was why he couldn't look me in the eyes, but I stared at him again as my mouth moved to form the words.

"This is you." I pointed to the grave, my hand almost weightless as I made the accusation. It wasn't a question, we both knew the truth now.

"Yes." He answered after a quiet moment, giving me his reluctant confession. I waited, offering him a chance to do the decent thing and face me, but he didn't. Even though it was becoming clear, and my mind was finally starting to catch up, there were still pieces that seemed impossible to me.

"You're Rosey's son?" I hadn't seen it before, and that was probably the point, but as I studied him now I began to see the best of her in him. My stomach heaved as it weighed heavier on me, and it felt so much worse now.

"Yes." Again he was hesitant, and he seemed to be going through something of his own. Relief? No, anger.

"You're the," I couldn't say it, I couldn't put it into the world out loud when he was standing right in front of me, not when he was now the one I was accountable to. Yet I'd always been accountable to him, it was just that I hadn't known it, and I forced myself to choke back the emotion. "I killed you."

"Yes." Benjamin repeated himself, three for three, and though it took him a minute to work up to it, he finally looked at me. His eyes were unblinking, and behind them I could see a fire starting, threatening to burn out of control. He struggled with the part of himself that was still very much human, but he did a far better job at restraining his emotions. It wasn't so easy for me, and I made a series of pathetic sounds as I struggled to find the right thing to say, to express everything I felt, and everything I learned. He saw me floundering and shook his head, "do you feel better now?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." It came out as a whine, and I covered my face with my hands in an effort to shut it all out. I didn't deserve to run from it, and I knew that he wouldn't go away just because I couldn't face him. My pulse thudded behind my ears, and I alternated between what I felt—anger, remorse, then back to anger. It was what gave me the strength to reengage, and after a deep breath I allowed myself to see him again. "How could you not tell me? How could you let me go on like this when you knew?"

"It wasn't my place to say, need I remind you that I have rules of my own." He wrestled to remain without fault, to be the wise and holy figure that he was supposed to be. When he informed me of his task yet again I came to another realization, and it hit me almost as hard as the first.

"This was your test? That's one fucked up sense of humor, isn't it?" Now I didn't need to swing between the two, because the guilt and anger I felt met one another, and in their union I was left in ruin. "He asks you to help the man that killed you, and all the while you're sitting back laughing, hoping for me to fail. I trusted you. I trusted you!"

"What's changed?" His fire wouldn't be tamed, and he moved forward as if daring me to stand against him. "What does it matter if our paths have crossed? You already knew that everything was connected, in one way or another, it doesn't change what you have to do. Or what I have to do. I told you not to come here, I told you not to look—you weren't ready. But here we are, and we have to deal with it now. Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think, for one second, I have enjoyed watching you suffer? No, I only want the same thing as you—to please our father, to be what he knows I can be. So really, what has changed?"