Thank you Bodo! Your comment nearly made me cry.
Chapter Two — The Purging
Silas sat in the very back pew of the church, and prayed to the Lord for the whole time he was there. When it was over, he stood and made his way back to his room. He found it cleaned and empty, but his head was not. She had been the girl in his dreams! "Rachel...Rachel Crowe." Silas mumbled, and sat on his mat. Why had he been dreaming of her? He had never seen her before until now. Perhaps it was the work of the Lord. Silas shook his head at this thought. He didn't believe in deja vu, he felt only sinners and heathens did, but he couldn't help but to think of this reasoning. Reaching for his Discipline, he removed his clothes, and knelt on the floor, saying a quick prayer. When he stood, the rhythm came automatically. His hand flew over his back, and the knotted rope stung his flesh. Gasping for breath, Silas did this three times more, and finally let the Discipline drop from his hand and onto the floor. Blood trickled down his back, and he could feel himself breathing slower...slower...until he wasn't breathing at all. He looked down dizzily at his cilice and pried it off with what little strength he had left. It dropped to the floor with a loud clang, and Silas fell back, missing his mat and crying out in pain as his open wounds suffered more abuse. He tried to roll over, but found no strength left in his tired body. He watched the ceiling slowly fade into darkness, and opened his mouth to scream as the breath was knocked into him, and Rachel's face appeared over his, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Freak!" She whispered in his ear, teasing him. Silas had no more energy to try and strike her, but it wouldn't of mattered anyways; he didn't want to hurt her again.
When he awoke sometime later, the sun was blazing down on his pale skin, and in pain, he jumped up with a yowl and drew on his cloak. He grabbed his cell phone. The time read 12:01. As he tried to calm himself, he stuck the phone and his gun in his pockets and walked out the door. He felt like going to sleep again, but couldn't think about even eating. He would need to eat something before he went to sleep again. His stomach gurgled at the thought, and Silas felt himself gag. He made his way to a bathroom, and bent over the toilet. He vomited up what little he had to eat of breakfast today, Earl Grey tea, communion wafer, and wine. Soon, he only began throwing up bile in a dry heave. Silas prayed, pleaded, and begged for this to be over, but felt it wouldn't end anytime soon. The bathroom door opened, and another man opened Silas's stall, and helped him up. It was the Bishop. "Silas! What has happened to you my child?" Silas tried to say something, but his head jerked back as he vomited into the toilet. Finally, finding the strength to stand, Silas stood and said to Aringarosa, "I feel better now, thank you." Silas flushed the toilet, and stepped around the Bishop, who stopped him. "You need to go to the medical ward, Silas." Silas shook his head. He needed to lie down. Before the Bishop could stop him again, he ran out of the men's bathrooms and back to his room where he lied down on his mat. His head felt light, and he could still taste vomit on his breath. Rolling over to lay on his side, Silas pulled himself into the fetal position and thought about what little memories he had of his mother in Marseilles.
He remembered her voice, and how she would sometimes sing, "Frere Jacques." She had called him something, something that he could not remember, but oh, how he longed to! Silas let a tear slide down his cheek, and remembered his father's name for him – Disappointment.