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Summary
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." A deep voice purred from the other side of the wooden wall.
Anderson laid frozen there for a few seconds. This was a church. He was in his church. There is no scent of blood and iron infesting his nostrils, there are no moans of pain or choked up gargling, he isn’t smashing through the confessional, he can still hear the children laughing outside and the quiet whispering of prayers, he can—
"May… the Lord help you confess your sins."
——
Impurity? in MY confessionals? It’s more likely than you think
