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Teshuva
quietnight
Summary:
After midnight, he climbs up onto the roof of the temple, into a hidden corner, and lies on his back, staring up at the sky.
Confess. Repent. Fix it.
He can’t remember the words he’d say to the priest in Brooklyn. He can’t remember the words his mother would say, behind closed doors, muffled.
“I killed a lot of people,” he says, voice quiet, eyes locked on a single star visible through the glow of the city. “I’m trying to remember them all. I have a list. I don’t want to forget again.”
He takes a deep breath. Shifts, brings his right arm up to pillow his head. Flexes the metal fingers of his left hand where it rests against the rooftop. “I didn’t want to do it. And if I have any say in the matter, I won’t ever do it again.”
He closes his eyes, then, and whispers, so quiet only God could hear him, “I’m sorry.”
Notes:
For JHSC with love <3<3<3
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