The Messiah Secret - James Becker [29]
For a couple of minutes Killian stared at his ripped ear as small rivulets of blood dripped off the lobe, splashing into the sink. He couldn’t go on without doing something about the injury.
Replacing the cotton pad, he roughly retied the bandage around his head, tightly enough to stop any more blood seeping out. Then he walked out of the bathroom and down the hall to the smallest bedroom of his modest and fairly isolated single-storey house, located in the countryside a few miles outside Monterey.
The moment he touched the door handle, a feeling of peace and contentment suffused his body. He opened the door and stepped inside.
At the far end of the room stood a tall cupboard, the doors and sides hidden behind deep purple cloth. Above it, a richly ornamented crucifix gleamed golden in the light from the candles burning on either side of it, the only illumination in the room. Directly in front of the makeshift altar was a single bare wooden pew, wide enough for only two or three people to kneel side by side. Killian had bought the pew from an antique dealer in France, and knew it was over five hundred years old.
He closed the door behind him, crossed himself and bowed his head, then walked forward slowly, reverently, to the wooden pew. He stepped into the centre of it, crossed himself again, then knelt down, clasping his hands together. For some seconds his lips moved in silent prayer, then he looked up at the crucifix.
‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,’ he began. ‘I need Your guidance and Your help and Your strength to complete the sacred task You have set for me.’
Ten minutes later, Killian emerged from his chapel, bowed once towards the altar, then closed the door behind him. Then, removing his black shirt and clerical collar, he assembled the materials he would need for what he now knew he had to do.
In his bathroom, he again stared at his reflection for a few seconds, then plugged the electric soldering iron into the shaver socket and tested the tip with his finger to ensure that it was getting hot. Taking a small piece of cotton cloth, he folded it until it fitted over his entire mouth. He used one hand to hold the cloth there while he wrapped duct tape around his head to hold the material firmly in place, as a simple but efficient gag. Finally, he made sure that the scissors were close to hand.
His preparations complete, Killian unwrapped the bandage around his head and removed the pad from his ear. Once again, blood started to flow from the open wound.
Picking up the scissors, he opened the blades and positioned them over the thin band of tissue that connected the two sections of his ear. As the steel of the scissors touched his flesh, Killian jumped involuntarily, then steadied himself. He took a deep breath through his nose, and squeezed the blades together.
The pain was instant and startling as the twin blades closed together, cutting deep, and despite the gag, he screamed, the sound emerging as a muffled howl. Tears streamed down his face. For several seconds he couldn’t even see his image in the mirror, then he blinked furiously and rubbed his eyes.
The loose flap of flesh was still attached, still hanging from the rest of his ear. He knew he’d have to do it again. He took several deep breaths, then positioned the scissors once more. This time, he closed his eyes before he applied pressure to the handles.
He heard a distinct ‘crunch’ as the scissors sliced through the remaining flesh, then a faint wet slap as the top of his ear landed in the sink in front of him. He didn’t look down as he was trying very hard not to scream again, and his eyes had once more filled with tears. But, he thought, as his vision slowly cleared, at least the worst of it was over. Or perhaps not. He glanced down at the soldering iron, its tip smoking ominously.
His ear was bleeding copiously, the amputation of the remaining flap of tissue having cut through several blood vessels. Killian dabbed