eager at the beginning of their journey of faith. Most had never really had their beliefs tested.
"Kieran,” Father O'Brian called to Kieran and stopped in front of him.
"Yes, Father,” he said, though he didn't want to speak with him. Another conversation about his situation would only fatigue him. It was now for him and God to work it out.
"You haven't been home all night.” Father O'Brian frowned.
The stairwell was now vacant. The other students had gone to Mass. Kieran lowered his head. When he had awakened with the thirst, he hadn't known where to go. That night faded from his memory every day.
The woman by the side of his jogging route had caught his attention. She had been physically attractive, but something wasn't right about her. She played the damsel in need of help. Something inexplicable drew him to her. It could have been her voice ensnaring him or her willing him to go to her.
"Do you believe everyone deserves to be forgiven by God?” she had asked him.
It wasn't for him to judge. “All those who truly seek His absolution, He shall grant it."
"You are so pure of heart and mind. You know nothing of the true struggle between good and evil.” She launched herself on top of him, overpowering him with ease.
As Sephora had, he'd pleaded with God that his life be spared, but the price had been too great. Perhaps if he had prayed for his attacker's soul, or worried about those who would be hurt by his death. Rather, he'd thought of himself, of not being ready to go. He'd woken by the bank of the river. No sign of the woman, but he'd had a thirst for blood and flesh that had brought him to the brink of madness and made him a demon.
Father O'Brian had been out in the seminary's garden, praying, when Kieran had returned to campus. “Kieran,” the father had said. His name had lingered in the air.
They had both known he wasn't himself anymore. Together they had worked to keep the illusion alive, to hide his true nature. He'd bought Kieran time to try to make sense of his curse. Father O'Brian had helped him find a source of nourishment that his body didn't reject. Pigs’ blood was the closest genetically to humans.
"Have you given into the pull? Hurt another or claimed a life?” Father O'Brian asked. It was a matter of time before the demon won out. The barrage of questions were further proof that Father O'Brian knew this too.
It was not as simple as that to answer his question. “Its strength nearly overwhelmed me. I could have killed her."
"Her? Who is this her you speak of?” Father O'Brian stepped closer. “Is there a woman out there, injured?"
"No.” Though her heart might be wounded, as his was. “ Mo lon dubh , but I've set her free. Physically restored.” He sighed. Still she slept, he sensed it. If when she woke she came to him before he completed the ceremony, he wouldn't have the strength to send her away. Since that wasn't likely, he'd cherish the time they'd had.
"Did she want to be set free?"
"I'm not sure I understand your question. Do you think it was easy for me? Every part of me wanted to stay.” Hurt burned the corner of his eyes. She would wake alone without a reason why. “I'm not a man. I did it for her own good."
"She believes you to be a man?"
One answer only led to another question. He needed to end this conversation. The last thing Kieran wanted was to justify his decision, when he struggled to remain committed to it. Father O'Brian might change his mind. He was doing this to protect her.
"Kieran, this isn't how God means for your life to end. If you do this, you are taking your own life. You know what happens to the souls of those who die at their own hand."
"They burn in Hell for eternity. Perhaps that's where those like me belong. I want her to have all my earthly belongings.” Once he burst into flames his life would end. She'd sense it because he'd shared his blood with her. She would come there to find out what happened—for closure. How he knew this
"Kieran,” Father O'Brian called to Kieran and stopped in front of him.
"Yes, Father,” he said, though he didn't want to speak with him. Another conversation about his situation would only fatigue him. It was now for him and God to work it out.
"You haven't been home all night.” Father O'Brian frowned.
The stairwell was now vacant. The other students had gone to Mass. Kieran lowered his head. When he had awakened with the thirst, he hadn't known where to go. That night faded from his memory every day.
The woman by the side of his jogging route had caught his attention. She had been physically attractive, but something wasn't right about her. She played the damsel in need of help. Something inexplicable drew him to her. It could have been her voice ensnaring him or her willing him to go to her.
"Do you believe everyone deserves to be forgiven by God?” she had asked him.
It wasn't for him to judge. “All those who truly seek His absolution, He shall grant it."
"You are so pure of heart and mind. You know nothing of the true struggle between good and evil.” She launched herself on top of him, overpowering him with ease.
As Sephora had, he'd pleaded with God that his life be spared, but the price had been too great. Perhaps if he had prayed for his attacker's soul, or worried about those who would be hurt by his death. Rather, he'd thought of himself, of not being ready to go. He'd woken by the bank of the river. No sign of the woman, but he'd had a thirst for blood and flesh that had brought him to the brink of madness and made him a demon.
Father O'Brian had been out in the seminary's garden, praying, when Kieran had returned to campus. “Kieran,” the father had said. His name had lingered in the air.
They had both known he wasn't himself anymore. Together they had worked to keep the illusion alive, to hide his true nature. He'd bought Kieran time to try to make sense of his curse. Father O'Brian had helped him find a source of nourishment that his body didn't reject. Pigs’ blood was the closest genetically to humans.
"Have you given into the pull? Hurt another or claimed a life?” Father O'Brian asked. It was a matter of time before the demon won out. The barrage of questions were further proof that Father O'Brian knew this too.
It was not as simple as that to answer his question. “Its strength nearly overwhelmed me. I could have killed her."
"Her? Who is this her you speak of?” Father O'Brian stepped closer. “Is there a woman out there, injured?"
"No.” Though her heart might be wounded, as his was. “ Mo lon dubh , but I've set her free. Physically restored.” He sighed. Still she slept, he sensed it. If when she woke she came to him before he completed the ceremony, he wouldn't have the strength to send her away. Since that wasn't likely, he'd cherish the time they'd had.
"Did she want to be set free?"
"I'm not sure I understand your question. Do you think it was easy for me? Every part of me wanted to stay.” Hurt burned the corner of his eyes. She would wake alone without a reason why. “I'm not a man. I did it for her own good."
"She believes you to be a man?"
One answer only led to another question. He needed to end this conversation. The last thing Kieran wanted was to justify his decision, when he struggled to remain committed to it. Father O'Brian might change his mind. He was doing this to protect her.
"Kieran, this isn't how God means for your life to end. If you do this, you are taking your own life. You know what happens to the souls of those who die at their own hand."
"They burn in Hell for eternity. Perhaps that's where those like me belong. I want her to have all my earthly belongings.” Once he burst into flames his life would end. She'd sense it because he'd shared his blood with her. She would come there to find out what happened—for closure. How he knew this
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