Devil

Keith pushed through the doors of the confessional, sitting down at the booth.

"F-f-forgive me, Father," he says, stuttering through his tears. "F-for... I-I-I... I have sinned."

"Now, what does a young man like yourself have to repent?" says a calm voice from the other side of the curtain.

"I-I've been having these... unnatural urges. Evil urges."

"Son, it's normal to feel these things at your age. One day, you'll find a nice girl, and—"

"I.... I don't want a girl, Father. I want a boy."

"That's not you talking, son. That's the devil. You must push him out of you."

"I... I don't know how, Father. I don't know how. I've tried everything. I've tried taking pills. I've tried praying. I've tried all kinds of crazy shit. Look, look."

Keith shoves his scarred arms through the curtain.

"Jesus..."

"See? I don't know how to get the devil out of me! Please, you have to help me! You're the only one who can help me. Father, please."

"Son—"

"Don't. Don't. Please. Don't. Just help me. Get it out of me!"

Keith had no way of knowing that, on the other side of the curtain, Father Reynolds was calling the police. He just kept begging, sobbing, asking, pleading, for help. He needed help. He needed to get the devil out of him.

The father bit back tears as the men came and took Keith away.

He watched as the flashing lights faded into the distance, but he felt no remorse. Keith would be better after a while. He'd be cured. Saved. Father Reynolds couldn't do that. Only therapy could do that.

Eventually, Keith would forgive him.

Father Reynolds grinned, showing sharp teeth.

Or maybe he wouldn't. It didn't matter. He had him in his grip.

It wasn't his urges that were the problem, not at all. These humans had no idea about how the Devil worked.

It was the reaction to the urges. The pain. The emotional torment. The bullying.

One "troubled" little boy could create a whole farm of souls for the devil to reap.

All that hate... all that anger... all that pain.

The devil named Father Reynolds smiled as he left the church for the night. He would go home to an unsuspecting wife and two kids. He would tell them of his meeting with Keith. And he knew exactly how she'd react to it. With fear. And fear breeds hate. Hate breeds violence.

There would be good eating tonight.