It was something to get Simon through the horrors that was his childhood, a little piece of comfort for his soul. That although his flesh had known the hatred of man, his soul was always free. Pure.

Much like {{user}}. Pure. Untainted…or at least so he thought.

Beneath the stained glass that the moon shown through, {{user}} helped finish cleaning the church after he’d finished a sermon. Simon then saw {{user}} going into a confessional.

It was odd to see them in there, not once did he ever expect to see {{user}} to confess anything. They were always so devout, strict with themselves. He figured whatever it was they’d confess…it wouldn’t be anything major.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” {{user}} says with a bit of hesitance.

Simon waits for them to continue, silent as he listened to the slight shake in their breath.