A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [193]
I take a breath.
I saw a Church and I was getting so scared that I was having trouble walking. I figured I could go inside and it would be quiet and empty and I could sit by myself and think. I found an empty pew and I sat down and I just cried. For a long time. I just sat by there by myself and cried.
I take a deep breath. The Fury that faded while I have been speaking starts to rise again.
After a while, a man, dressed like you, approached me and asked me if I was all right. I told him no. He introduced himself as a Father. He told me that he had a lot of experience counseling young People and that if I wanted to talk to him about my troubles we should go back to his Office and talk. I said no, I’d like to be alone. He sat down next to me and said we should go back to his Office. He told me that he was sure he could help me, just come back to my Office, just come back to my Office. I figured it couldn’t hurt, so I went.
I take another breath. The Fury has risen. I speak.
His Office was one of a series of Rooms behind the Altar. When we got there, the Father locked the door behind us. I should have known right fucking then, but he was a Priest, and it didn’t cross my mind. I sat down on a couch and he sat down next to me and he asked what was wrong and I told him. I told him about my addictions, about the shitty life I had led, about the disaster I had just run from and about my plan to kill myself. The whole time I talked, he sat and stared at me and pretended to be listening. When I finished he reached over and put his hand on my thigh and said you have come to the right place, I believe I can help you. I didn’t like his hand there, so I moved it. He put it back and he said although God has sent me to you, there is something you must give me in return. I moved his hand off again and I asked him what and he put his hand back and he put it higher on my thigh and he said I know you are upset and confused right now, but you must not resist or fight God’s will, we were put together for a reason, and he started moving his hand up my thigh toward my crotch. I moved it away and told him not to do that again. He said okay, but he put it back and this time he put it on my crotch and he started to reach for my face with his other hand. As he did he said you must not resist God’s will, my Son.
I stare at Father David. The Fury is up up up. I feel what I felt that night. The urge to kill, destroy, annihilate.
I didn’t give that Motherfucker a chance to touch my face. I hit him on the point of his chin and I heard a crack and the blood started to flow. I stood up and hit him again. I did it again and again and again. I don’t know how many times I did it, but at a certain point all I could see was blood. After I was through with his face, and after he was knocked out, I pulled him off the couch and I spread his legs. I spread them so I could kick him and I did. I kicked him about fifteen times as hard as I fucking could. I kicked him to the point that he was moaning, even though he was unconscious. Then I turned and I unlocked his door and I walked out and I went to the nearest Liquor Store and bought as much as whiskey as I could with the money I had with me and I found an alley and I sat there and I got fucking drunk till I passed out. When I woke up the next morning, I went Home. For the next few days, I kept expecting the Police to come see me or to arrest me, but it didn’t happen. I checked the Papers for a couple of weeks to see if there was some mention of what I had done, but there was nothing. I can only imagine that the Priest had done to others what he had tried to do to me, and that if he lived through what I did to him, and I think he did, he knew if he went to the Police I would tell them why I did it, and if they looked into my claims, there would have been others to substantiate them.
Father David looks away from me.