The Pope

by L.P. Lovell

“You should be grateful I’m showing you mercy.” I remove the knuckles and slip them into my pocket. “After all, I am a man of God.”

She repeats the words back. “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

I’m sorry daddy. I’ve been a bad girl

“Little do you know, sweet Delilah,” I lean in close, nipping her earlobe, “For even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.”

“Why would I knock? Not like I expect the priest to be in here fornicating.”

“I’m proud of you for throwing a punch, little lamb.” “I did it wrong.” “God loves a trier.” That dashing smile crosses his lips, and I almost want to cry because I’m terrified that there will come a time when I’ll never see his face again.