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The house of God is pure, and you, ignominious. You are a flawed being, a deeply troubled lover at the forked road of decision.
Viktor’s boot slammed into Jayce’s chest. “You cannot be loved, Giopara.” His rib was cracked, shattered bone crumbling into his bloodstream with a shudder. The itch to give in pricked his brain, coy and waiting. Always waiting. He grimaced as Viktor dug his heel into his lung. “You cannot be saved.”
Jayce remembered, then, what his mother had told him: “God will love you unconditionally, if you let him into your heart.” A new sensation, a ghost, crushed his chest, pressing Viktor’s boot further into his ribs. His lungs deflated, pierced and wheezing oxygen inside his chest. His flesh felt light, his body bloated. He was a corpse, a drowned cadaver with a weight on his ankle.
“Viktor, do you love me?” It was pertinent, suddenly, to pray.
“Jayce, I could never hate you.”
He could’ve died, then. He could’ve let the oxygen building under his skin choke out his blood and die with blue lips. But he needed to pray. He needed someone, anyone, to take the choice out of his hands. And in the house of God, you surrender. An oppressive eye, a bared soul. An autopsy of the psyche, sins marring the flesh like a bruise. Black and purple stream down the skin, rivulets disappearing under the clothes. It’s a wound you cannot heal, steadfast in its embrace.
“Save me, Viktor.” His mouth was metallic, coated with red. His teeth ached. He wanted them out of his skull, one by one until the sting subsided.
The boot eased off his chest. “I’ve been wanting to save you, Jayce. All you had to do was ask.” Viktor kneeled beside him, hand on Jayce’s heart. “This is the first step to salvation.”
He’d heard those words before, and they rang clearly in his foggy brain. He was delirious enough to believe it. When they’d been pounded into his mind, his knees became the conduit of the holy; they were pressed against the earth of God, the pews splintering under his weight. His soul was heavier than the feather, once, and he’d cracked his nails to free himself from the underworld.
“I surrender.”
Viktor’s mask covered his face. Jayce had seen that mask so many times, always malignant in nature; it was the Devil he’d been running from since he knew who the Devil was, in the form of a beast of metal and sinew.
He felt a steel hand cradle his head, his body finally lifting from the ground. The earth fractured in his skull. Like the ground, Jayce’s bones split. Every tart memory, every taut stretch of the mind seeped out of his ears, returning back to God’s realm. Everything he was, was blanked from his soul.
“Don’t fall asleep, Jayce. I want you to stay awake.”
His lips were numb, his mouth choking out the words his throat wanted to close around. “I’ll try my best.”
Rough sheets scratched his neck, and he heard a soft click. His eyes were glassy, blurry vision warping Viktor’s features. His face looked hard, like a statue. His stone face held soft, open eyes. His mouth bowed slightly, into a deep frown. He didn’t look like the savior, not like Jayce thought he should look. But the safety of Viktor’s bed, the warmth from the machines whirring underneath his steel plates, it all felt holy. Viktor’s presence overwhelmed Jayce, draping his body with the jewels of a reliquary. Jayce wrapped his being around that feeling, desperate for the salvation Viktor could give him.
“I won’t let you suffer anymore. You are okay.” Viktor’s hands were deft on his collar, undoing the buttons on his shirt. “But this will hurt you.” His hands roamed over Jayce’s chest, until they stopped on his lungs. He pushed, and Jayce’s broken voice gargled out a scream. Blood spewed from his throat, his lungs scrabbling for oxygen. “There was fluid in your lungs, so I tried to clear your esophagus. I have to get my equipment to drain the rest.”
His body was fatigued, and the pain roiled through his nerves. He laid there, cold and, for the first time, afraid of dying. Heaven was absent; Viktor walked the earth. Now that he was here, in the flesh, Jayce couldn’t leave. He was starved for the love his mother had promised God would give, was weaned off of it before he knew what it truly was. He was hungry, so hungry for safety. So he stayed awake.
Viktor’s even steps lightened his heart. “I have to sedate you for this. It is not a pleasant process.”
“Why did you keep me awake, then?” Jayce’s head hurt.
Viktor smiled, and the room lit up. “I wanted to test your faith.” He punctuated his sentence with a needle in Jayce’s arm. “Rest easy.”
Jayce woke up, light as a feather. It was easier to breathe, and his head was clearer. The mask was at his bedside, a testament to the malice Viktor’s heart held. But that was okay. Viktor could harbor hatred, as long as it wasn’t for him. His mother told him God was infallible, that his love was for everyone, but he’d promised himself that if God ever did make a mistake, Jayce would forgive him. When he’d voiced this unconditional love to his parents, they’d been filled with rage. “That’s sacrilege, Jayce Giopara. Don’t ever say that again.” To make sure he’d understood his falter, they’d burned the crucifix into his skin, the brand of God. As if He wasn’t omnipotent, as if He hadn’t heard Jayce’s confession.
It had long since healed over, but the sizzle of flesh was seared into his mind. It had pushed him away from God, from his parents, but Jayce was never able to leave behind the alluring promise of love and surrender. He’d scoured the earth to find a semblance of God, to find someone to hold his soul in their hands and squeeze out the sin. He wanted to be pure again. He wanted God. And he’d found him.