[fic] In Lieu of Kindness: Chapter 1
Title: In Lieu of Kindness
Notes: Original characters belong to Zephuu.
Summary: The bruises we leave on each other all fade away, but the changes we make are the steps we take towards the future.
Chapter One: Prelude to Flight
The pitiful cries echoed through her, scrawling their pained betrayal onto her bones, onto the frail quivering of her hands; Alessa paused mid-step and, despite her surroundings, drew in a breath of the smoky, dank air and said a prayer against the images that haunted the backs of her eyelids. She clutched the unassuming Bible, the edges of mahogany leather just beginning to show signs of age, and turned to God for strength and pardon - pardon for her cowardice and her weakness, for she knew the Lord to be merciful and compassionate. But prayer could not erase the dark fury in the craven eyes of the fallen and sinful father, nor could it ameliorate the rage in his face when he had caught her standing at the door, her rosary clattering to the floor.
It was the only material thing of value she had owned and it had slipped from her fingers to sing its own hymn upon the stone tiles. Its song did not hide the keening gasps from the tiny form under his monstrous one, the thin limbs and curling locks of blonde hair smeared in his treachery. She had appealed to the Lord with this man, had knelt by him in praise and worship. And this priest, a man who had sworn himself married to Jesus, could have committed few infidelities that cut as deep.
Alessa tightened her slender fingers around the same rosary and found courage again. Her small, conservative heels clicked gently on the street, careful to side step refuse, yet unable to turn away from the human muck that made her heart ache. She would show them the way; open the blind to a world of colors and faith.
Perhaps then, Alessa would have met with these people, or those very much like them, eventually, regardless of whether or not she had caught the priest raping a child. "Sweetling," one crooned with a licentious sweep of his eyes. A shudder ran down the ivory bone of her spine, settling deep in her stomach with fear and horror. "P-please, the Lord weeps to see His children fallen to sin!"
The laughter that poured out around her was not the familiar sound of joy she was so accustomed to. It dipped low into their bellies, rasping against their throats, and spilled over her skin in an audible layer of filth. Her words were to the pack of human wolves no more than baubles to arouse and amuse, incomprehensible to their sightless eyes. They could no more see her conviction than she could their depravity, and yet the world skirted the paradoxical in having the two meet. "Look at those tits," came the rumbled approval, rippling through them men who circled her. "Walkin' around in these ladylike clothes and all these naughty skirts, I bet you wanted this."
A roar of agreement rose. "Wanted a man to show you how to be a woman, Sister?"
Alessa gripped her Bible, silent in the face of what would follow. She knew the stories the broken girls whispered, the horrors they confessed to only in the pale morning light - then, when the terrors of their slumber could be cast aside, the words would come in halting flat voices, caged by the atrophy of fear. She would her last moment belong to God (and not to fear, not to these men), who loved her more than she knew, who had been her place of peace; her pillar of grace.
Alessa did the only thing she could. She prayed.
She prayed for safety in His arms, for redemption of lost souls, for her to be saved by His hand; Alessa prayed simply and purely. The world fell away from her quiet words and, for a breathless, trembling moment, she felt His Presence in the abrupt silence, in the instant the world provided her with its answer. This serenity would last her a life time.
"Through Jesus Christ my Lord, Amen."
Through the dark rivers of blood and ruined flesh, she saw only the answer to her prayers and he was great.
Semyon is stunned; he has never cared for prayers and those so attached to them before.
Notes: Original characters belong to Zephuu.
Summary: The bruises we leave on each other all fade away, but the changes we make are the steps we take towards the future.
Chapter One: Prelude to Flight
The pitiful cries echoed through her, scrawling their pained betrayal onto her bones, onto the frail quivering of her hands; Alessa paused mid-step and, despite her surroundings, drew in a breath of the smoky, dank air and said a prayer against the images that haunted the backs of her eyelids. She clutched the unassuming Bible, the edges of mahogany leather just beginning to show signs of age, and turned to God for strength and pardon - pardon for her cowardice and her weakness, for she knew the Lord to be merciful and compassionate. But prayer could not erase the dark fury in the craven eyes of the fallen and sinful father, nor could it ameliorate the rage in his face when he had caught her standing at the door, her rosary clattering to the floor.
It was the only material thing of value she had owned and it had slipped from her fingers to sing its own hymn upon the stone tiles. Its song did not hide the keening gasps from the tiny form under his monstrous one, the thin limbs and curling locks of blonde hair smeared in his treachery. She had appealed to the Lord with this man, had knelt by him in praise and worship. And this priest, a man who had sworn himself married to Jesus, could have committed few infidelities that cut as deep.
Alessa tightened her slender fingers around the same rosary and found courage again. Her small, conservative heels clicked gently on the street, careful to side step refuse, yet unable to turn away from the human muck that made her heart ache. She would show them the way; open the blind to a world of colors and faith.
Perhaps then, Alessa would have met with these people, or those very much like them, eventually, regardless of whether or not she had caught the priest raping a child. "Sweetling," one crooned with a licentious sweep of his eyes. A shudder ran down the ivory bone of her spine, settling deep in her stomach with fear and horror. "P-please, the Lord weeps to see His children fallen to sin!"
The laughter that poured out around her was not the familiar sound of joy she was so accustomed to. It dipped low into their bellies, rasping against their throats, and spilled over her skin in an audible layer of filth. Her words were to the pack of human wolves no more than baubles to arouse and amuse, incomprehensible to their sightless eyes. They could no more see her conviction than she could their depravity, and yet the world skirted the paradoxical in having the two meet. "Look at those tits," came the rumbled approval, rippling through them men who circled her. "Walkin' around in these ladylike clothes and all these naughty skirts, I bet you wanted this."
A roar of agreement rose. "Wanted a man to show you how to be a woman, Sister?"
Alessa gripped her Bible, silent in the face of what would follow. She knew the stories the broken girls whispered, the horrors they confessed to only in the pale morning light - then, when the terrors of their slumber could be cast aside, the words would come in halting flat voices, caged by the atrophy of fear. She would her last moment belong to God (and not to fear, not to these men), who loved her more than she knew, who had been her place of peace; her pillar of grace.
Alessa did the only thing she could. She prayed.
She prayed for safety in His arms, for redemption of lost souls, for her to be saved by His hand; Alessa prayed simply and purely. The world fell away from her quiet words and, for a breathless, trembling moment, she felt His Presence in the abrupt silence, in the instant the world provided her with its answer. This serenity would last her a life time.
"Through Jesus Christ my Lord, Amen."
Through the dark rivers of blood and ruined flesh, she saw only the answer to her prayers and he was great.
Semyon is stunned; he has never cared for prayers and those so attached to them before.