CHAPTER 9
414 Words
Reverend Michael’s office smelled of old books and stale incense. He stood by the window, staring at nothing, hands clenched behind his back.
“You saw nothing,” he muttered to himself. “It was hysteria.”
The door creaked.
He spun around. “Who’s there?”
Rebecca stepped inside.
“Good afternoon, Reverend.”
His face drained of color. “You should knock.”
“I did,” Rebecca said. “You didn’t answer.”
He forced a smile. “I was praying.”
Mercy whispered:
“He is lying.”
Rebecca asked, “For forgiveness?”
The Reverend stiffened. “What are you implying?”
Rebecca tilted her head. “That prayers don’t shake people like you were shaking last night.”
His voice rose. “You are overstepping.”
Mercy spoke through her, calm and cutting:
“You taught me silence. Now you fear sound.”
The Reverend backed away. “This—this is sacrilege.”
Rebecca stepped closer. “Is it?”
He swallowed. “Why are you doing this?”
Rebecca hesitated. “Because someone has to ask questions.”
“What questions?” he demanded.
Rebecca met his eyes. “Why Mercy disappeared.”
Silence fell like a blade.
“I told you—she left.”
Mercy answered:
“You held my wrists.”
The Reverend slammed his hand on the desk. “Enough!”
Rebecca didn’t flinch. “Where is the envelope, Reverend?”
His breath hitched. “What envelope?”
“The one she carried the night she died.”
His whisper was barely audible. “She didn’t die.”
Mercy’s voice dropped, heavy with truth:
“I did.”
The temperature plummeted.
“You can’t prove anything,” he said desperately.
Rebecca nodded. “Not yet.”
He stared at her. “What do you want?”
Rebecca answered honestly. “The truth.”
“And if I refuse?”
Mercy replied, unyielding:
“Then the walls will speak.”
A book fell from the shelf behind him.
Then another.
Then another.
The Reverend covered his ears. “Stop it!”
Rebecca said quietly, “This is mercy.”
He laughed hysterically. “Mercy? There is no mercy left.”
Mercy’s final words in the room were calm, absolute:
“There is justice.”
When Rebecca left the office, the Reverend remained on the floor, shaking.
And for the first time in years, he prayed not for forgiveness—
—but for silence.
- Writer
