Part Seven: Gnashing of teeth.

The hallway was alive, calling out to me. "Regan," it would say, "walk my floors, follow that bastard."

I dragged Injustice to the hall's side, instead of leaving him lying in the center like some displayed abnormality on a freak show. I took my shirt off and lay it on him, brushing the hair off his face, parting it in a way that it fell on his side. This boy's suicide will forever be engraved as one of the greatest tragedies ever told. The last few minutes of his life was nothing but the realization of the fact that his god has betrayed him – kissed him on the cheek like Judas kissed Jesus, sold him to the world to be crucified and hung like a criminal. This boy was no criminal. He was a criminal's masterpiece.

Miki. Injustice. I've doubled the reasons to hunt you down like the rat you are, Rubalkubara. I'm your walking ticket to that Hell you so badly preach against. Your blood will stain my hands, and there will be no mercy when I find my fingers around your throat.

I pick up the dented mace, walk down the corridor where I last saw Rubalkubara turn. It's a dark, moss-scented hallway, nothing but shadows and ghosts and a heavy silence occupying the space. This was what this Sancturium was, a deep well of deceit and lies fronted by a church and Christ and love.

I come at a door, slightly open. I pushed it, and there he was, donning another robe from his regal, brown-red armoire, a makeshift bandage around his head, covering his nose.

"Steven, is that you my beautiful boy? Come out of the shadows so Father can see you," he said, and through the angle I created where I was, I knew he couldn't see me. "Are you hurt, my child? Is the sinner with his master now?"

I studied the room from where I stood. It was small, a bed, a closet, a desk, the priest's uniform scapular hanging on a coat rack by the desk. Steven, I thought. The first martyr. The injustice.

"Forgive yourself, Father," I said, with no sarcasm in my voice, just brutal honesty and hate and anger, "for you know not what the hell you've done."

He turned around, shocked, and inched towards the window. "You monster. You killed Steven! How could you? A child of the Lord! YOU WILL BURN IN HELL, SINNER!" he cried. I brushed it off me.

"I didn't kill him, priest," I replied, taking my time on making my way to him, palming the mace in my hand. I knew he was going for the window. "You killed him. Your lies and abuse pushed him over the cliff."

He smiled at me. "Did he cry sinner? Did he cry like your daughter, like a girl? Did he act like a girl? If I know Steven, he'd cry… he cries whenever he hurts. I like the way he cries. Did you enjoy it, sinner?"

I couldn't believe it. I will not answer, I will not give Rubalkubara the twisted satisfaction of staining Steven's memory with a lustful finality.

Pervert. I couldn't help it. I took two strides and was halfway across the room, he ran towards the window, but I caught him by the neck of his robe. He laughed, and I broke his right arm with the mace.

His scream pierced the night.

In the name of sweet revenge, I drew the mace as high as I could, and brought it down forcefully on his right shoulder. He crashed to the floor, twisting and writhing, shouting "God, save me" and other things that I'd make sure fell on deaf ears.

He stopped his hysterics. He looked up and asked, "If you're doing this for justice, you're far too late."

I smiled. I'm not doing it for justice. I'm doing it for Miki.

The mace caught him in his chest, upper left, near the shoulder blade.

I'm doing it for Injustice.

My boot met his belly, and he spat out thick, bubbling blood.

I'm doing it for fun.

A letter-opener on his desk went through his thigh, and I dragged it up, tearing flesh and muscle. I muffled his screams by covering his face in the bed's quilt, and holding a pillow over the sheets. He was performing some sort of chant, an incantation, probably to exorcise the living hell out of me. But it won't work. I've got a lot of hell in me.

I was tired by the time it was over. I was a waterfall of blood. I staggered towards the bathroom, a door connected to Rubalkubara's quarters. I dipped my hands in a bucket of water and let the cool wetness purify me. I walked out of the bathroom, and I spat on Rubalkubara's body.

"By the way," I said, "my daughter never cried."

I'm a wanted man now, and I bet people heard him scream. I better get something on my side, but all I have is a dead kid's body and the corpse of a fat perverted priest, his blood covering my skin.

I staggered out of his room. I remember Steven's words.

"Down the hall, there are many of us."

If I'm going down anyway, might as well make the trip worthwhile.