Sinner (Priest, #2)

by Sierra Simone

I stand in the storm for what feels like hours, letting the rain sluice over my bare chest and back, letting it dance over my closed eyelids and against my parted lips. I let it fill up the hole inside me, I let it find every ridge and valley and vault of my body and my heart. I hope Mom is dancing between the raindrops now. I hope she’s somewhere laughing and dancing with God. And it comes to me like a clap of thunder that Zenny is under the same rain now, that somewhere this very same lightning-light is touching her face, and I can almost imagine it’s me touching her face. I can almost imagine the rain on my lips is her lips, the drops sliding down to my navel and over my hips are her fingers and her tongue. I can almost imagine she’s here with me now and I can say I’m sorry I wanted you to choose me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can say But have you ever seen yourself? Heard yourself? How could I ever want any different when you are who you are? But she’s not here. I’m utterly alone, except for—ironically enough—God.

Omg