The Witness

Chapter 25 - Blasphemy

The priest looked at her curiously. "A confession?" he repeated. "You're going to tell everything through a confession?"

Rosa nodded. "Yes, everything I saw. Everything I know. I want to make things right with God before I die." She crossed her fingers on her sides.

"We'll let you survive. If you cooperate, you'll be unharmed."

"But I'd also like a confession," Rosa protested. "As a priest, you're mandated to give one to those who ask for it, right? Please give me one. That's all I ask in exchange. I won't tell them about you."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Rosa crossed her heart, her smile gentle.

Father Gerard nodded. "Let me get the Bible in the vestry." He turned his back to her and started walking to a room behind the altar.

Rosa looked at the Statue of Mary Immaculate. For a moment, she seemed to be too heavy, and too magnified in the tightness of the room, but her eyes for once seemed to convey something other than placidity. Rosa blinked; she must be seeing things. Either way, the eyes of the Statue gave her an order.

Now.

And she followed.

She grabbed a tall metal candle holder and swung it, barely missing Father Gerard, whose reflexes were quick, but it wasn't him she'd intended to hit. The glass case of the statue smashed into a million little pieces, scattering all over the place like a deafening shower of rain. "What the--" Father Gerard started, but he was unable to get up on his feet in time. Rosa swung the metal holder again, surprised by her strength, and aimed for the statue itself. Gone was the placidity in the Virgin's face; gone was the Virgin herself, now chunks of colored ceramic that flew in all directions of the room before smashing into smaller pieces on the floor. Father Gerard watched in horror as Rosa swirled around and glared at him, weapon in hand. "Rosa, no!" he began again, and this time Rosa swung it at him.

Blood surfaced to the side of his head, trickling down the floor and staining his white robe and the tiles alike. He lay face up, mumbling incoherently, his hand twitching in a grotesque angle on his side. Rosa glanced at him for a second and remembered Steven. But she didn't gloat. She had no time to gloat. She focused on retrieving the video tapes scattered on the floor, labelled with dates from December 1998 to January 1999. She had no time to count them either. She gathered them all up in her arms and fled.