He was going to get checked by the doctor again today, so hopefully he would be able to go.
Silas wondered how he was going to get home to Paris. He didn't carry around a huge amount of money with him... he had almost nothing at all.
Maybe I'll just have to stay here for a while... Silas thought.
Suddenly, the doctor came in.
"Good news, sir. You're injury is healing nicely, and you can go home now," he said, "just take it easy for a couple of day, and be sure to redress your wound every day at noon."
Silas nodded. As the doctor left, Silas took the IV out of his hand, not caring if he was allowed to or not, got changed into his simple brown cloak, and went to see Bishop Aringarosa.
He was fine. But he had to stay in the hospital a little while longer. Silas bade him good bye and walked out of the hospital.
As he made his way to the Opus Dei headquarters, pulling his hood up as it started to rain, Silas still wondered about what happened yesterday.
Maybe Genevieve should have left me to die, he thought. If it was my time to go, why didn't she just let me go? God was kind to try and pull me out of this cruel world.
At that moment, a car sped by him and soaked him by splashing water from a puddle onto him. Silas sighed.
The icing on the cake, he thought, bitterly.
Silas saw the Opus Dei headquarters up ahead, he made a dash for it as the rain fell harder. He ran up the stairs and into his room, and desperatley tried to find the whip for his discipline.
--
Genevieve walked through the doors of the hospital and walked to the front desk.
"I'm here to see Silas?" she said.
"Oh, I'm afraid you're too late," the woman behind the desk said, "that albino guy you're talking about, right?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, I'm afraid he left already."
"Left?"
"Yeah, we released him from the hospital today."
"Well... do you know where he went?"
"Well... he had a cloak on when he left so... I'm guessing he's part of Opus Dei, so-"
"Okay, great, thanks," Genevieve said, rushing out of the hospital, running down the streets. Genevieve stopped running for a minute.
Why am I running? She thought, why am I in such a rush to see Silas?
Because he's hurt, she told herself, maybe they let him out too early?
Genevieve took the excuse and ran to the Opus Dei headquarters.
--
The leg Silas had his cilice wrapped around was numb for having it on for so long. He hoped he hadn't developed some strange infection.
He carefully took the cilice off, wincing in pain and wrapped it tightly around his other leg.
Pain is good.
Silas reached for the whip. He took off the top part of his robe and eagerly swung the whip over his shoulder, there was a sickening wack of leather hitting his skin before he felt the seering pain burn through his back and shoulders.
Silas looked up to the crusifix on the wall and smiled.
Pain is good.
He swung the whip again over his shoulder, hoping to feel his hot blood running down his back. He got his wish.
--
Genevieve knew about Opus Dei, but she didn't know all the rules and regulations. Coming into the building through the front door was breaking rule number one.
"Excuse me, what are you doing?" a man behind the counter.
"I'm... just coming in to see someone," Genevieve told him, wondering what she had done wrong.
"You have to enter around the side, Miss," he said.
Genevieve looked at him. "But I'm already in the building."
The man sighed. "okay, look, I'm letting this go once. The next time you enter from around the side, got it?"
Genevieve nodded and started up the stairs. She came to a corridor with many doors to room, but which one was Silas in?
She took her chances and knocked on door 15. A woman with blond hair and blue eyes wrapped in a burlap cloak answered the door.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Genevieve said, "I must have the wrong room."
"Who are you looking for?" the woman asked.
"A man named Silas?"
"Oh, the albino one?"
"Yes."
"He's in room 17, hitting himself like the dickens."
"What?" Genevieve cried, "what do you mean?"
"Well, some numeraries here prefer to wear a barbed cilice and flog themsleves until they bleed to remind them of Christ's sufferings," the woman explained, "I don't do it, though. That one does."
"Okay, thanks," Genevieve said, unattentively, running down the hall, two doors down. She knocked on room 17's door. No answer.
--
Silas still hadn't finished whipping himself. He hadn't had the chance to do the number of whips necessary in the past three days, so he had to make up for it. His back was bleeding incredibly now, but he did not stop.
He was so deep into his religious trance, that he didn't hear the knocking at the door.
--
Genevieve knocked again. "Silas? Are you in there?" No answer. Although she did hear a horrible wooshing and cracking sound. Like one whipping oneself.
Genevieve couldn't stand it any longer, she, without thinking, opened the door, unveiling a horrible sight.
Silas was standing in the middle of the room,with the top part of his cloak down, holding a bloody whip, with his back gushing blood like no tomorrow.
Genevieve felt her hands fly up to her mouth, stifling a scream. She immediately shut the door, and sank to floor, staring at room 17 with teary eyes. She wasn't prepared for that.
--
If Silas had a mirror in his room, and if he looked at his reflection, he would see a young man, with pale skin, with his cheeks becoming a deeper red every second.
He wasn't just embarrassed for himself, he was also embarrassed that Genevieve had to endure such a sight.
She wasn't part of Opus Dei, as far as Silas knew, and she shouldn't have had to seen that.
Silas put the top part of his cloak back on, and opened the door to find Genevieve.
She was sitting, rolled up in a little ball, infront of the door, with teary eyes, staring into space. She looked up at him.
"I'm sorry, Genevieve, that you had to see that," Silas said.
"But... how could you... do that... to yourself?" Genevieve asked him, shaking.
"It is part of what Opus Dei asks of me," Silas explained to the shocked woman.
"But-but the woman in room 15 said that not everyone in Opus Dei does it," she pointed out.
"But, I owe so much to Opus Dei, I feel compelled to do this," Sials said.
"What... what do you mean?"
Silas sighed. He didn't want to get dragged back into the depths of hell by the past. But, Genevieve had a right to know the whole story.
Silas explained about when he was a child, growing up in poverty, being sent to jail in Spain, and then ending up in Opus Dei.
Once he was finished, Genevieve sighed. "That's so sad," she looked up at Silas again. "How did you survive?"
"Faith kept me alive," he answered. He offered his hand to help her up off of the floor. Genevieve grasped Silas white hand and was pulled up with ease as if she were a feather.
"No more tears, now, Genevieve," Silas smiled, making her smile too. He looked down. He suddenly realized his hand was still holding her's. He quickly dropped it and looked back up to her.
"So, why did you come to see me?" he asked.
"Well, I wanted to know if you were okay!" Genevieve said.
--
Bishop Aringarosa was watching Silas and the woman from behind the corner. She was weeping before, and Silas had gone to comfort her.
One's first look at corporal mortification is almost always disturbing to the eye, Aringarosa thought.
Silas was telling her the story of his life before he came to Opus Dei, and he helpt her up to her feet. But Silas' hand seemed to linger too long in her's.
Aringarosa mentally shook himself. Just my imagination.