For I Have Sinned

1

   It was late, he sat in the dark bar, barely illuminated by the neon signs of beers and liquor. Smoke curled from the cigarette that dangled from the tips of his fingers, his body leaning forward over the dirty bar counter. A crystal glass in his other hand, the amber liquid swirling, ice clinking against the sides. A few strands of loose dark hair caught on his five a clock shadow. He looked like hell and he knew it.
    Father Barnes, Bucky to those few who were close to him, had had his share of rough days but today probably took the cake. Ever since his an accident in his early childhood he had been able to see the twisted, distorted, broken and often times smokey faces of demons. He could see them even when they possessed a mortal body, and it was his job, duty, mission in life to send each one he encountered back to hell.
     Today was no different when it came to the spawns of Lucifer, except the fact that the host was seven year old little girl. Her sweet cherub face, twisted in pain as the demon bellowed at the priest. He wouldn't forget seeing her take her last breath as he read her her last rites. Some battles he won, others he lost, but this one would weigh heavy on his soul.
     The priest threw a couple bills on the counter top as he took one last swig from his drink. He pulled his coat on over his black suit, fixing his clerical collar before leaving the building. It was a dreary night, street lights twinkled in the puddles that formed along the edge of the streets. It was nights like this, where after a long tormenting day fighting with creatures that wanted to drag every soul to hell that made him want to turn from the silent father he swore to follow.
Over the years he had watched as the lambs of the lord turned away from the church, the number patrons slowly diminishing year after year. It weighed heavily on him as much as every other thing on this planet did. Between fighting hell spawns and living the life of god he wondered if maybe he had choose the path in life.
As he approached the century old church he saw a form laying at the door steps, his first thought was yet of that of another one of the countless homeless. But as he neared he could make out the body of a woman, hair sprawled across her face, dressed in hospital style clothing. Thin clothing a pale mint green, and she had a white band encircling her wrist. Bucky knelt beside her, lifting her wrist delicately. Jesu County Hospital, Jane Doe.
Not a mark on her exposed skin told him she hadn't been on the streets long. He stood briefly and unlocked the door, pushing it open before knelt back down. Bucky slipped his arm under her limp body, her skin cold to the touch as he lifted her with ease. He carried her inside and kicked the shut behind him, the sound echoing off the walls in the darkness.
He carried her through the main part of the church, walking effortlessly through the darkness, he knew every nook and cranny of the building. He took her to his cell though a side hall and gently laid her down on his cot. Her breathing was steady, even though she was cold as ice. Tenderly he covered her up with a well worn blanket, something about her.
He sat down in the chair at his desk and watched her, he wasn't sure what it was about her, the way her lips curved or the angle of her cheeks. He knew her, or reminded her of someone he knew. And as hard as he tried the thought evaded him even further.
Falling, fast, the sound of wind rushing, fluttering, light, bright white. BOOM, pain so much pain. Complete darkness.
Beep, beep, beeeeeeeeeep.
"We're loosing her!"
"She's flat lining!"
"Everyone back!"
Humming, static, more pain as every neuron in the body tries to awaken at the electrical current coursing though, back arching up involuntarily. Thump, here comes the hum again, the steady whining sound of static, body lifting without command.
Beeeeeep, beep, beep.
    It felt like sand paper, my lids as the slowly opened. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, the room was dark, lit by a small lamp across the room on the desk. Slowly I sat up, the cot I was laying on creaked from old springs, the wool blanket falling around my waist. I looked around for clues as I tried to figure out where I was, a single wooden cross was the only thing on the wall.
    I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, every muscle felt weak as I staggered over to the desk. A single black book, worn and well used sat next to the lamp, the words Holy Bible scrawled across it in silver. I let my finger tips brush across the book before I turned and walked to the slightly open door.
    I peer out into the near pitch black hall, a sliver of light shone around the edges of a door at the far end. I shivered, the air in the hall much colder then in the room. My feet started to move, drawn towards the light, my mind a jumble of thoughts. I had no clue how I got here, or where here was. I remembered being cold and wet, surrounded by darkness after I ran from, from the thing. Whatever that was.
   I had run blindly into the night, my feet just going on their on accord much like now. I slowly pushed the door open further, the room was lit by multiple candles. A large cross hung from the wall opposite of the door, and there was man, dressed all in black, kneeling before it.
    His dark hair was pulled back loosely where the skull and neck met. I watched curiously as he rose from his spot, making some movements with his hands in front of his body that I couldn't see. When he turned I was met with the most startling blue eyes that I could remember ever seeing. They widen at the sight of me, his face was scruffy around his full lips.  I stood there trying to think if I knew him or not, I just couldn't remember.
    "I'm Father Barnes, and this is my church." He said, his voice was deep and some how rough and smooth at the same time. He took a step towards me and out of instinct I backed away. "You need not be afraid."
    "Why am I here?" I asked softly, my eyes narrowing on him.
    "I found you on the steps, cold, wet and unconscious." He replied, clasping his hands in front of his body. "Do you know who you are?"
    "No, but someone once called me Sparrow."