He couldn't count the emotions he had seen. The emotions that seemed to come and go like the ocean's tide, ever-changing and hardly ever showing the true feelings lying beneath. Even through he considered himself one of the gunman's closest and only true best friend, he felt sadness at the fact that he could not see through the mask that he put on everyday.
He felt as though he had betrayed the gunman. And though he had, the actuality of what he had done hadn't sunk in yet. So many times they had shared together, so many secrets told.. it seemed almost surreal, the situation. He couldn't imagine how the gunman had come to trust him -- that is, if he even did have any trust in him. His smile betrayed so little; that again, was the mask. Yes, he was sent to save him, to protect him, to guide him; a guardian angel, in some sense. But an angel with black wings and a bloody-red halo, that might as well have been sent by the Devil himself.
'Was everything I did in my life a mistake? Would I be wrong now to ask for you forgiveness?'
It was almost as if they were brothers. Seemingly, he was the older brother, guiding his younger sibling -- almost to death. But his love drove him to sacrifice himself.
He couldn't bear to look at him, there, near the end...
'..the look on his face; it was as if he was the one that killed the kid...'
...maybe that played a part. He always found himself righting what was wrong, even if he was playing a part in the wrongdoing.
'It really can be done. Once you stop to think about it, there are plenty of ways to save everyone!'
And that's how things had come to be as they were. As the surrounding winds and sands rose and settled, so did the priest's chest. From him came a dying confession, the last, and only truthful words, with no one but him and a possible God to hear them.
'Would I be wrong now to ask for you forgiveness?...'