Wood cleaner and wax was the first thing that greeted Farfarello's nose as he stepped into the building. The pews were gleaming from polish and the candles danced as the door closed again, protecting the parishioners from the cool air outside. Mass had been over for hours now and the building was empty, save for the crucifix over the alter and bibles that filled the pew area, in Japanese and English. Memory and habits took over Farfarello and he dipped his hand in the holy water, touching his forehead before making the sign of the cross. Then he knelled, making the sign once more before walking down the isle toward the front. As a child, the silence of the church had filled his soul with joy and peace. He had dreamed of becoming a priest, guiding others to the love of God, to show them His endless wisdom and peace the Holy Spirit brought. Jei had loved God with all his soul, saying his daily prayers and reading the bible each night, safe in the knowledge there was a place in Heaven for him, Jesus waiting with His arms wide open.
Jei called to him now, asking him to make peace with God and move on, to seize the chance before time took it away. Farfarello listened, his eyes downcast and his body bowed to the Lord, head touching the ground. Tears trailed down his face and he ripped off his eye patch, lifting his head for God to see him as he was now. A broken man, a murderer, a sinner. He wanted peace, the calm he had before Ruth tore it away, selfishly whispering truths a child should never have heard.
And that was it. How could a loving God protect him when He couldn't even save Jei's family from a child? How could Farfarello exist when Jesus should have slayed him years ago? How could God have turned his back on Ruth, his family, Naru, himself and still demand worship? Not any God Farfarello wanted to serve. Fists dug into the carpet, and Farfarello cried for a lost childhood, for Jei, his family, and the lies he had lived with for so many years.
Time stood still for the Irishman as the confusion from the last few weeks cleared away, and he found his hatred once again, along with his logic and choices in life. He had wanted to court death; he had desired to be a demon, to kill with no regret and see the blood drip from his palms, rivers of pain and truth he created. God had turned His back on Jei from birth, allowing that whore to stay in his church, and for her to open her mouth and destroy Jei's world. Yes, Jei killed his family, and yes Jei was responsible but compared to what Farfarello had done, Jei was a saint. Life was what Farfarello made of it and he planned on living it as fully as possible. Demon or not, angel or not, Farfarello owned his future, and he owned Jei. Jei died that afternoon, knife in hand, and Farfarello was born.
Laughing quietly he stood, eye raised to meet the image of God and he screamed, heart pounding, mind clear, as he allowed God to see He had not won, not yet. Fists joined his voice and the Irishman howled his laughter, tears running the length of his face, as he found the peace in the hatred of a being that didn't care.
Footsteps echoed behind him and Farfarello lowered his voice, the laughter still there but more sane. He closed his eye and said his finally goodbye to his past, to the church, and the lies he was fed as a child.
"Sé do Beatha Mhuire,
Tá lán do ghrást, Tá an Tiarna leat.
Is beannaithe thú idir mhn
Agus is beannaithe toradh do bhrionne Íosa.
A Naomh Mhuire mháthair Dé
Ghúi orainn na bpeaca
Anois agus ar uair ár mbáis. Amen."
Farfarello finished the Hail Mary in Gaelic, saying his final goodbyes to God with the prayer for women; a tribute for the whore who had disgraced God himself.
The voices behind him were getting louder and he could hear the worry in the nuns' voices. Heart full and conscious cleared he touched the knife in his jacket, pulling the blade firmly out, and turned, smiling. He had work to do, and a church to clean.