"Our father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us for our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. for ever and ever. Amen."
"Amen" I repeated after Father Sawyer, He spoke the Lords prayer in a constant, grizzly monotone. A pointless, twisted ritual.
I stood behind the Pastor. The room was dimly lit; accentuating the sparse furnishings, deepening the heavy maroon curtains, drawn threateningly shut. The only prominent object in the room was a large edwardian bed, neatly made with a red velvet covers and white silken sheets. On the bed in hideous, angelic contrast lay a pubescent, comatose girl.
It was clear, from her bruised and skeletal ribs she was badly beaten. Her gaunt face showed no signs of being untouched. It was clear, she was still so very young, fourteen? Maybe thirteen? her breasts were not fully formed and still so firm.
I noticed she was chained, spread-eagled and gagged. I shivered with a crippling glee. Sawyer slowly walked over to a video camera, nested in a prime position to capture the evenings proceedings. "Where did you get this one from Sawyer?"
"Marston pulled her straight out of school, said she came willingly, fresh and wanting." For a man of the cloth Sawyer was a constant liar, no one would ever come willingly to this place, to this pit and rancid hell-hole. "Did Marston give any specific instructions?" I watched Sawyer nod, "he said he wanted us to break her in for Sheriff Roscoe, make sure she bleeds well."
The red light showed on the camera and I walked towards the bed.
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V. good, I'd say, excellent penmanship
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