Plot Summary: Oneshot. After Unexpected, Isaac can't stop blaming himself for what happened. And it's tearing him apart. Character death, rated to be safe (for violence).

A/N: Spoilers up to and including Unexpected. Please note that this contains some religious aspects which may be offensive to some people. If you disapprove of thoughts like "God has abandoned me", then you probably shouldn't read this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except the plot. Yeah.

Isaac's POV:

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," I murmured through the lattice of the confessional booth, feeling extremely awkward in the confined space. The last time I'd been in a situation like this was when I was just a kid.

But then again, that situation wasn't quite like this. I'd never killed anyone before now.

Especially not the woman I loved.

"It's been fourteen years since my last confession."

But, oh God, I had wanted to kill Peter so badly that it made me blind to anything else. Now that I know what it feels like to be a murderer, I can't figure out where I got the idea that killing would be glorious.

"In that time I've had impure thoughts about women."

When I first saw her, I knew that she was the one. She was perfect in every way. She was beautiful, intelligent, kind, and had a sense of humor that I could understand.

"I've used drugs to escape my responsibilities."

The first time we had a fight was when I started using. The heroin dulled the pain of her dissatisfaction with my way of living. I was a starving artist, and I refused to change. That stressed her out more than anything. My stubbornness over my beliefs.

"I've considered suicide."

When she'd left me for Peter, my life was damn near meaningless. I'd wanted so badly just to give up. But there was always that glimmer of hope that she'd come to her senses and come back to me. That she'd see that we were destined to be together.

"I've had the urge to kill a man."

Peter. Damn him. He took everything from me. He robbed me of my life. Because she was my life. My reason for being. Everything that I'd ever done was for her. And now it was for nothing. Ever since he came along, my life has been going to hell. The only upside to the whole thing is that I finally got cleaned up. And that is overshadowed by the downsides.

"I've doubted God's presence."

I still did. After all, how could He, a supposedly kind and benevolent God, let me go through all of this suffering? Did I do something to piss Him off? Interrupt his Great Scheme or something? Because for all I know, I'm just an average guy who got screwed over in life. Repeatedly.

"Did you act on the urge to kill another?"

I froze at the question. My heart lurched, throat tightened. My hands started to shake. Yes! My mind screamed, demanding that I bare my very soul. I knew that if I didn't, if I lied, I would be damned for eternity.

But, I already was damned. I was damned the instant that I pulled the trigger.

"No," I whispered, feeling tears sting the backs of my eyes. That statement was the end of me.

"Very well. You are forgiven."

My heart pounding wildly in my chest, I crossed myself and got up to retreat. I had to get out of that place. That suffocating little space that snapped the last of my sanity. I all but ran from the church, my mind reeling in despair.

No. You said no. That was your last chance to be forgiven by Him.

But why would I care about being forgiven by a God who has abandoned me? He's left me alone here in this forsaken city on this equally damned planet. He took away all that I've ever lived for, I thought as I hastened through the doorway of my loft, not daring to look down on the spot that she'd died.

I sank quietly to the floor depicting the inevitable explosion and my gaze fixed instantly on a glint of silver across the room.

The gun.

I stared at it for the longest time. Just looking, thinking to myself that it wasn't His fault at all, but mine. All mine. I was nothing but a monster. A diseased dog that deserved to be put down.

How easy it would be just to point the gun and pull the trigger.

Before I knew it, my legs were moving of their own accord, taking me to the redeeming object, the damning object in my vision. My hand closed over the cold, unfeeling metal.

I couldn't help a wistful smirk at that. Cold and unfeeling. Just like God.

My hand moved to my temple.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," I breathed as I finally let the tears fall.

And I pulled the trigger.