Addict

The musings of an addict.

Confession was in a couple of hours.

It was my first confession ever since I had been greeted into the church.

I was told that one a week, or every few weeks everyone must confess their sins in private and god would forgive them. I was not exactly sure what I was to confess, because it was only a few weeks ago I had been told what a sin was. I suppose I had sinned all my life and did not even realize it. I was scared, the way Father Domenico told me about it, he said he only wanted me safe and that one day I would hold his hand in heaven, in paradise. I had committed only two repetitive sins, and it was that way every day it seemed. I looked to be a good girl, and every day I was told that I was a good girl. I was nothing more, nor did I aspire to be anything more.

The two sins were lust…sins of the flesh and that I lied occasionally to my highers.

Never once had I lied to Father Domenico or any of the other priests, but before I was with him I did it occasionally because I had to enjoy the pain that was caused to my flesh. I enjoyed the whippings, the beatings, the carved incantations. I had no choice but to bear it and enjoy it and lie about it. I constantly told them I enjoyed the punishments, and maybe I missed it. I took the abuse, the pain and I lied. Some days it seemed normal to lie about it, you always told whichever truth that took less explaining. Whether it was the lie I told every day, or the truth. It seemed the lie was easier to explain, it came naturally to me and no one ever questioned it. I did not go into great detail about it, because he knew I did not want to talk about them, the life I had once lived and lead. Father Murdough said I should forget it and lead this new life that I have given. Father Domenico said I should talk about it, when the time was right.

I was conflicted with both of them, but we never spoke about it unless I felt the need was right. As a man of the church they would have no idea what kind of tortures, pleasures and pain my body had gone through. I had tested it many times, what kinds of things a human body could go through before it gave up, collapsed… and failed. I had never been close to death, but often times I wished for it because I could not bear anything of what had happened. I had been subject to every sin of the flesh and used constantly. I had gotten so used to being touched; caressed, used I had begun to crave it ever since they brought me to stay here. None of them would ever dream to touch me in the way my old home did and I craved it.

Some would even be as right as to call me an addict, but I was not sure what else to do…it was how I was raised.
 

Author's Note

Not really worried about grammar.

Reviews

[Pixie Meat]

Whichever truth took less explaining...I like this concept, it's true to life.
You gave your character a very realistic voice. I liked how the story was not so centered around a concrete plot but was more stream of consiousness, a revelation of the mind of the girl. The character's resignation can be felt, the distant and almost unfelt sadness, locked away. Very thought provoking. The only thing I saw that you could fix would be to capitalize God (proper noun) in the fourth line, but I suppose that falls under grammar, sorry ;). Very insightful piece and I enjoyed it very much overall, thank you!