"Father, forgive me, for I have sinned."
"Yes my son, and how long has it been since your last confession?"
"I don't remember father. It's been so long ago. I'm thirty-three, now."
"It's not too late to confess your sins. What brings you to the confessional after all these years?"
"Can God forgive me, if I've killed someone?"
A prolonged silence.
"Father? Did you hear me?"
"Yes my son. David murdered a man when he was king of Israel. No man does anything
God cannot forgive. We are born in sin but can be cleansed. Tell me everything from the beginning when you were young. What happened to put you on this path?"
"Excuse my French father, but I was a bastard child. My mother wouldn't tell me who my father was. She said, she had to keep it a secret or the man could lose everything. She had to protect his identity."
"I see. Go on."
"In school kid's made fun of me. They called me a bastard child. I got into drugs as a teenager, hung with the wrong crowds. But then a man took a special interest in me. He was a tough man, an ex-boxer. He taught me how to defend myself, and even taught me how to shoot a gun."
"He was your father figure. He taught you how to kill?"
"You could say that. He didn't want me to know what he did at first. But I noticed a lot of pictures in his room tacked to his wall of this one man. He seemed obsessed with this guy and I got angry because he wouldn't tell me, so I started to leave. In the closet behind my jacket I notice a high-powered rifle with a scope. I threatened to go to the police. That's when he told me everything. He said he grew up on the streets like me and never had a father to steer him in the right direction. He took a job with the local mafia.
A long pause, and then audible crying wafted through the slat screen of the confessional booth.
"Father, I loved this man. He was only one who cared for me like...like a father should. He played ball with me; we went to the movies together. Then one day, he took me to the shooting range."
"Yes go on my...my son."
"Finally I went with him on his first kill. At first there was this rush, better than cocaine. I had to do it. I killed someone. Now I want out. My mother is dying. Her last wish for me is to give up my sin. I got angry and told her, I want to know where my real father is. I threatened to go through a search engine on the Internet to find him. In her weakened voice from her deathbed, she told me there was a better way. She told me I could find my father next to the church, but first I needed to confess. What does all this mean father?"
"Is your mother's name Viola...Viola Winters?"
"Yes, but...but how did you know?"
"Because, I'm not just a priest, I am your father, and I need your forgiveness my son. God in heaven knows, what I have done is worse than murder."
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