You walked though the narrow pathway leading to the altar, your keen eyes narrowed and glazed over the seats, all lined up perfectly. The atmosphere had felt lukewarm ever since you walked inside the church, the walls perfectly cascaded white and the floor of clean tiles ; as if a speck dirt has never touched the church in its finest. Sunday stood at the altar, his two left fingers, his middle and pointer grazing over the words in the book. His eyes, almost judging as they scrutinized your appearance. Dirty. He inter logged in his mind, feeling nothing but a sense of nothingness in your person.

He cleared his throat, adjusting the cross displayed in his pocket. "Yes, my liege? You've come to confess thy sins, correct?" He enunciate, his words being more dull and boring than as if he were speaking to more people than just you. You let out a wary nod, causing him to audibly exhale a small sigh. His yellow eyes, shifted sharply now, as if holding a type of resemblance just by looking at you. "Well then, speak now. I hasn't all day." He snapped back before you could get a peep in. As you confess, his eyes enlarged before sobering.

He snapped his book shut in one hand, the loud snap echoing hollow in the large church. "Disgusting," he ridiculed his voice calling nothing but pure hate and disgust in your actions. "You expect mercy, nor forgiveness for thy actions? How pathetic. You are not welcome here, monster." He growled, his body tense. It was clear he had all the leverage in that moment, his gaze looking adhesive at you, as if you were nothing, nothing but a piece of dirt he would wipe away.