A/N Sorry this took so long! It's been busy with the holidays and just life in general. I haven't forgot about these stories though.
I hope the mix of events makes since to everyone. I hope it ties in the end...I HOPE! LOL
Anyway, enjoy and R&R please! Thanks!
"…Women of our faith have been made to suffer for their original sin; for the deception of Eve."
"All men have to suffer for being enticed by their trappings."
"…But heathens…gypsy witches…are another matter…" "...stop boy!" His father abruptly interrupted his own oration to instruct his son, who was currently lowered upon his knees before him.
Claude froze and looked up with yielding eyes to catch his father's punitive look. In the back of Claude's mind, within his unfocused thoughts, sprung forth the possibility of leniency.
He was wrong however.
"Slow your pace!" He ordered swiftly and without compromise. Leaving Claude berating himself on his own ingenuous thoughts of his father. There would be no leniency and there was no getting past his father's knowledge on matters such as this.
It was like he saw right through him.
Claude lowered his insipid gaze. The corners of his vision beginning to turn white, but still managed to notice just how much blood was starting to stain the sides of his knees.
His dry throat tightened, holding back the cries he wanted to bellow out as the bile threatened to erupt behind his tightly closed teeth.
But, as always, he stayed silent, obeyed and slowed his pace.
The intentional stalling was indeed making the sting pervade into the waking fibers of Claude's back. But he dared not gather momentum. For he knew, at this point, his father was counting each blow he took against his flayed back.
"You should always wait between lashes, otherwise the old sting will dull you to the new…"
His father's fanatical voice was still present in his ears, but it started echoing in and out. The light headedness was steadily turning his attention away. Not to mention the distracting ache of his shoulder, that was beginning to grow tight at the resistance of the continual rotating motion of his aching arm.
...And panic ensued.
Concentrate on your breathing…
Concentrate and listen…
You must listen…
After a time, he managed to distribute some collected energy, to be able to take control of his erratic breathing that was bubbling up to the surface too quickly. Only then was he able to hear past the muffling in his ears to hear his father's voice clearly once again.
"…Every stroke has meaning, every stroke is a reminder of our faults against our lord and every stroke enables the body to bleed the poison from its temple." His father all of sudden went silent and the only sound that emanated in the room, for what seemed like an eternity was the sound of Claude's slow and hard clouts against his shredded back.
Suddenly, his father lowered himself right above Claude's bowed head and he could feel his eyes burn upon his crown and anxiety filled his darting eyes until his own knees caught his attention. The smears of blood drying at the edges of his bent legs distracted him enough while his father growled down at him with quiet contempt.
"Even though these gypsy whores could otherwise have a hold on a man…take advantage of him…loot him. But not only of his coin, but of his purity. A man's faith must be stronger to counteract those dark forces. If it cannot…expiation must be professed. Until his lust is expunged."
Claude could feel the intimidating exhales of his father's nose move the loose hairs on his head and his insides liquefied from the familiar fear.
"You should have come right to me. If Marcel Thayer hadn't alerted me of the situation, I suspect I wouldn't have ever known." He straightened as he spoke with a levelled austere voice.
"I wouldn't have believed such a story if I hadn't witnessed the first time this happened."
Claude grimaced at the memory; wanting to bury and forget his shame forever. But when it came to his father, no previous offenses were ever omitted. Unless he felt that Claude learned his lesson. But, since his father had openly expressed his concern, other tactics were set into place for these circumstances.
His father went on.
"…And although the incident in the square a year ago was more innocent than this current issue. Apparently, you still need to be reminded of the consequences if you continue to be careless and non-vigilant and if you think I'm speaking of your current cleansing…" He shook his head grimly. "…You are poorly mistaken…"
"…There are far worse things." His voice was low and held an entrenched emphasis that left Claude's shoulders shaking with exposure. "You know what I speak of."
Claude was well aware. It was taught from birth, ingrained in their way of life and their faith from the beginning. One was never ever apart from the other. If you claimed any different, you were perceived as a critic and an enemy of the church. To every Catholic, your soul was seen as an abomination and doomed to the pit.
Hell…
That paralyzing word itself sustained his father's power over him every time.
Even with this newly constructed fortress he had created around himself. Claude's fear of that prison was always just under the surface. Just the idea of being sentenced to perdition for eternity was beyond frightening.
It was mortifying!
The perspective became crystal clear with every recollection of it. Finally ignoring any physical pain he was enduring at the moment. Claude listened deeply to his father's warnings.
"It is nothing to test! It is nothing to challenge or question. Only then will you expose your very soul to these demons disguised as beauty of the flesh."
"They will lead you away. They will tempt you, entice you and once you are far enough away from God's light, they will devour you. With no chance of being delivered from the darkness."
"Do you understand!?" He finally asked with a booming voice.
Claude flinched, but answered in a small voice "Yes father." It cracked from the dryness in his throat.
"You may stop."
The order was unexpected and Claude only froze in place. His elbow stayed erect as the leather tails made their way into the open flesh of his back. It seared, but he learned long ago not to be so eager to rise from his place before being told to do so.
"You may rise."
Claude lowered his burning arm in concealed relief. The back of his hand slapped against the cold stone floor in complete exhaustion and let go of the whip. He ignored the feeling of his own cold, sticky, half dried blood smearing the back of his white knuckles and tried to flex his legs to rise. His muscles were so tight it took some effort to prompt them so they could help him stand. When he managed to get to his feet he was met with the same whiteness that flooded the corners his vision as earlier.
That was, until…
"As for Filimor Belrose…"
Hearing his father mention his notorious older classmate's name temporarily shaded his own physical pain. This trigger made him latch on to his father's next words even more intently. His dark eyes filled with indignant vengeful rage.
I hope he suffers…I hope his weakness is his end.
Claude surprised himself for a moment. He stood back in his mind to self-reflect.
Audrey wouldn't be pleased…
She taught you better…
She isn't here!
That last reminder was from a voice Claude never heard before. It came in loud and clear and it instantly silenced any other dualism that was being fought.
She's not going to be here forever…
To protect you…
…You need to protect yourself!
He's been nothing but a bullish thug to you. He deserves what he gets. All sinners deserve what they get! He's the reason you're here remember.
"…He's being dealt with…"
Claude held his breath for the gruesome details.
"…Appropriately." Claude's lungs deflated with violated chagrin. His mouth hung open while fury radiated in his gut. His eyes widen, while red dyed his surroundings.
Could he have just indulged me with something? Would it be a huge bother to humor me with a small piece of closure after what he's put me through?
Claude snapped his mouth shut in an indignant motion. Drawing in his thin lips, he tensed his jaw muscles while gritting his teeth. He balled up his fists tight enough for the white to return to his knuckles. His whole entire frame shook. When Claudius inescapably noticed, he locked eyes with his son and for a rare perturbed moment, he swore the wide incandescent eyes staring back weren't his son's.
His father promptly wiped his inceptive look and narrowed his eyes. He didn't waste any time on quickly regaining his dominance over him.
"Wipe that look off your face! You look like a mad dog!"
The red hue that was painted over Claude's vision ceased and his eyes softened. He gave an almost dumb-founded look to his father.
His father scoffed.
"Clean yourself up and meet me at the cathedral…" He threw a cloth at him "…God knows you need even more council before the day is done."
He ignored his father's last comment while the adrenaline that fueled Claude's veins left his rapid beating heart, only to leave a new founded malignant cold in its wake. An invasiveness that he had never felt before. It didn't take long for it to settle into every cell of his body.
His callousness was rapidly evolving.
Claude masked any trace of his "disrespect" and spoke with a voice of impersonated humility.
"Yes father."
Claude watched his father leave and begun to clean the venom off his skin.