Chapters Two and Three

So I bet you never thought you’d see another post from me, huh? Well, here are the second and third chapters to the story I’ve been working on. As with the first chapter, the following is completely unrevised. Please leave any feedback you have—good, bad, or ugly—so that I can make it a better story.

II.

The family finally left the diner after demolishing their table. Since they arrived they had been nothing but trouble to Pam. The three children, all under the age of five, asked for coloring pages and crayons which the diner didn’t have. They started crying when she wouldn’t give them any. She calmed them down with sheets of paper and pens. When they got their food they went through two bottles of catsup, most of it ending up on the floor and the seat. Pam thought about how much trouble children were. She started to cry.

It had been a long day for her. Her doctor finally called her back with her test results. She had taken some home pregnancy tests but she needed the doctor to tell her. She was hoping the tests were wrong. When the doctor called and told her she was pregnant she couldn’t help but cry. She dried her eyes and focused on cleaning the table. She looked at the red catsup on the table and thought about how terrible children could act.

When she was finished with the table, she went over the where the single man had been sitting. He had left a while ago, and she had felt bad about not telling him goodbye. Stupid, noisy children. They had kept her busy her whole morning shift. She picked up the money and went to the register. He left her a good tip. She put the money in the register and the tip into her pocket.

After clocking out, she changed in the back and headed for the phone. She called her church and asked if confessions were still going on. They were. She was relieved. She really needed to speak with her priest about her situation. She looked at the red second hand on the clock hanging above the door.

At this same time a week ago, she had just left work and was heading home. She lived on the lower west side of town, not the safest part in the neighborhood. While she was walking home she saw a dog in an alley way. He looked like a sweet dog. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth as he panted heavily. His fur was still in good shape and he couldn’t have been more than a year old. The dog looked up and saw her. His tail immediately started wagging as he ran towards her. The tags on his red collar started jingling, but he only made it a couple of pounces before he collapsed from dehydration.

Pam hurried to the dog and picked him up and carried him over to a dumpster where she found a bowl that had been filled with rain water. She took it out and gave it to the whining dog. It wasn’t the best, but it was the best she could do. She knew what had happened to the dog. It was normal for people to drop off their unwanted animals. The dog finished drinking and looked up at her. He then looked past her and started growling.

A man was walking slowly towards her in the middle of the alley. He was wearing all black and kept his hat low so his face was covered.

“Well look what we have here,” he said in a low grunt. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a treat like you, missy.” Pam backed up, looking for any doors in the alley that she could escape to, but they were all locked. Even during business hours the stores in the lower west side of town locked most of their doors.

She tried to sprint past the man, but he simply grabbed her and threw her to the ground. He was much too strong for her to escape him. He pinned both of her arms with one of his hands as he spread her legs with his knees.

“Don’t worry, missy,” the man whispered in her ear. His whisper was more of a growl. His breath was hot and smelled. She still could not see his face. All she could see was his red hair poking from underneath his ball cap. “No one can hear you back here. Even if they could, what makes you think they would help you?”

His free hand worked its way up her legs and pulled down her panties. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. It hurt, bad. She was a virgin. She screamed. It was a loud, booming scream that echoed off the walls of the alley. People walking by heard her. As they looked in the alley they saw the disfigured shadows on the ground.

They kept walking. The man was right. Those that could hear her didn’t care about her. In this neighborhood it was every man for himself, and if you weren’t involved with something, you didn’t become involved. When the red-haired man finished he simply stood up and walked away. She was left there on the ground, crying and in pain.

The police at the precinct listened and took down notes, but in the back of her mind she knew they wouldn’t catch the man. It wasn’t their fault; they had so many murders, child molesters, and other rapists that his identity was just another needle in the haystack. The police told her to go to the doctor and get tested. The doctor told her it would take a day or two for the blood work to come back. Today she got the phone call letting her know she was with child.

She entered the church and went to the back where the confessionals were. The church was old and was falling apart like the rest of the city. The church did not have one priest, but rather rotated with other churches in the area. It seemed like not even ministers of God’s will wanted to stay in the place they were most needed.

A dark red screen separated her and the priest as she kneeled in the musty smelling wood box. It felt like a coffin to her. The only light came from the cracks in the doorway.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession.”

“What have you done, my child?” The priest’s voice is smooth. She relaxes involuntarily.

“Today at work I had cruel thoughts towards others. Towards children. They didn’t do anything wrong, they were just being children! Oh father, I don’t know what to do anymore…” Her voice broke off.

“Talk to me, child. God is listening.”

“My doctor called. I am pregnant by the man who raped me. I have not known any other men, father. I have been faithful to the Lord. Why would he do this to me? I haven’t the money to raise a child, but I haven’t the money for an abortion either.”

“You will find God works in strange ways, my dear.” Pam thought it was strange the way he called her dear. “Taking the life of an innocent child is not what He would want. Keep the child, though it might mean you must take on another job. You have been called to do the deeds of the Lord, and the unborn baby needs your guidance. Trust me. Trust your Father.”

“Thank you, Father. I will do God’s will.” Pam stood up to leave.

“Just a minute, sweet child,” said the priest. She shivered again at the way he talked to her. “The church, as you can see, is in desperate need of repairs. Have you anything to donate?”

Pam thought that she should be saving her money for the child, but quickly thought that the church surely needed it more than she did. She reached in her pocket and found the tip money from her day’s work. As the priest slid the screen open, light hit a one dollar bill. In red ink the words “All you need is hope” was written. She gave the money to the priest.

“Bless you child. Your donation is your penance. Go and spread the word of the Lord.”

As she walked home, all she thought about the words written on the one dollar bill. She thought about what the priest said about the child. Maybe this was God’s plan. Maybe she would need the child as much as the child would need her. She thought about the neighborhood that she would have to raise it in. She was scared.

“All you need is hope.”

She thought about the bright red letters on the one dollar bill. She imagined the person who wrote them on the one dollar bill. She wondered if an angel had written it. She wondered if it was a sign. She went to a nearby payphone and put in seventy-five cents. She hadn’t spoken to her mom in five years, since she moved out. All you need is hope, she thought. She didn’t expect her mom to answer, but if she did she hoped they could talk.

“Mom? It’s Pam, please don’t hang up. …I know it’s been a while, but we need to talk. I love you mom.” The sun shone bright red as it settled in the west. It was the most brilliant sunset that Pam had ever seen, and she watched it as she talked to her mother.

III.

Father McKenzie went into the back room of the church and changed from his priests’ robes into his street clothes. He was tired and worked up from listening to confessions all day. He liked listening to adulterers tell tales of their mistresses. They weren’t sorry, not really. He knew because he would hear the same voices week after week telling the same story. Working the confessional was one of his favorite parts about being a priest; the power that he felt, the control over people’s lives. They needed him. He needed them. He looked at the donations he had received today. It was close to four hundred dollars. He rolled it up and stuck it in his pocket. As he walked through the sanctuary he looked at the cracked roof and the broken windows. He told the sinners their donations would help fix the church. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” It was five years ago, his second year as a priest. The woman confessed to him that she continuously had impure thoughts about the men she worked with, and that she often acted on these thoughts. He told her that only a man of the Lord could truly satisfy her needs. He had just said it without thinking, but it had worked. As she climaxed in the tight confessional she whispered in his ear, “Oh save me! Save me! Save me!” That was when he realized the power he had as a priest.

He walked down into the east side of town. He was glad to get out of the poverty stricken west side. The girls there were older than they looked, and most of them had already had children. The girls on the east side were generally well off. The whole town seemed to be cleaner. But no matter how clean a town is, they all have their dirty parts. He walked into the strip club and sat down on the main floor. He ordered bourbon on the rocks from a topless waitress. He watched her breasts bounce as she walked to the bar. He was slightly turned off by her obviously fake breasts. He turned to the dancer on stage.

She was a new girl, young too, and amazingly beautiful. Most of the girls in the bar were hot or sexy, but she was different. She was cute and timid. But not timid enough to be modest, as her dance moves on the stage clearly showed. Father McKenzie couldn’t take his eyes off her as he threw back his drink. When she was done he called her over.

As she climbed onto his lap he felt the smoothness and the softness of her skin. She seemed too innocent to be in a place like this, he thought. But here she was.

“I saw you from the stage,” she said in a voice as soft as her skin. The hairs on the priest’s neck stood up. “What are you looking for?”

“You.”

She began to dance on his lap. She could feel his penis harden in his pants. She felt his chest, and felt his heart beating faster. She smiled and leaned down towards his ear.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Father McKenzie’s eyes widened. His stomach dropped. She could feel his fear. “Sinners go to church too, you know. I recognized you when you walked in. Don’t worry though, I won’t tell. Who would believe a stripper anyway?”

Her mesmerizing body slowly relaxed him. For him the seconds seemed like years. He studied her body. She had dark hair, bright blue eyes, and beautiful tan skin. Her breasts were real, and he could feel her hard nipples as she rubbed against him. She had a tight stomach and a great ass that grinded against him. He couldn’t help himself anymore; he had to feel her beauty. A bouncer started towards him but she signaled she was fine.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Hope, Father. My name’s Hope because all the girls hope to be me and all the guys hope to be with me. But be quiet, Father… I don’t like Father. I’ll call you Daddy. Will you be my Daddy?” As she whispered this she nibbled on his earlobe.

Father McKenzie ended up giving her all the money he had stolen from the donations. As he placed his last dollar bill in her red G-String he noticed writing on it. “All you need is hope.” He laughed. Walking back to his house all he could think about was Hope and what was written on the dollar bill. Hope, he thought, was a worthless thing to wish for. Hope had never gotten anyone anywhere. What people needed were leaders. Leaders like him. The rest of the way home he thought how sheepish people were. It started to rain.