“People love to symbolize the center of one’s character with the heart. Think with your mind, but feel with your heart. Fighter with the heart of a lion. Criminal with a heart of gold. The heart is heavy with meaning and has gotten a lot of unnecessary credit. But, I’m okay with it. The symbolism of the heart has given me a new perspective to look at people with. Arrhythmia.”
“I can look into someones heart, and I can hear it. The irregularity. The flaw in their character. We know all about that, don’t we Cecil?”
Beads of sweat glistened his forehead. His mouth taped shut. Strapped to a chair, arms fastened so tightly his skin bled at the straps.
“We know all about the arrhythmia people feel in their hearts. They come to you to heal it. To heal their flaws in whatever form it might be in. Guidance? Truth? Purpose? Y’know, its sad really because only a handful of you holy men are actually genuine. Teaching love, compassion, understanding. Most of you as we both know, are con artists. How’s the old saying go, it’s easier to raise strong children than it is to fix a broken man or woman.”
Dread consumed him. He watched her as she contemplated, examining the selection of tools and blades resting along the wall.
“You’re the latter. You prey on their arrhythmia. You prey on their fears, their flaws and use it to shape them into what you want them to be. Indoctrination and coercion at its finest. When they are too scared to look into the abyss, you lie to them. You don't give them truth, you give them your own truth. You don't teach understanding or compassion, you teach absolutes. They better believe you or they’ll suffer for alllllll eternity…”
She casually cocked her head back at him, they locked eyes.
“Don’t worry, i’m only going to make you suffer for a moment or two.”
She took grasp of bolt cutters.
“The written and spoken word are your tools. Your weapons. By the time i’m done, you’ll never write or preach the word of your God ever again. That’ll keep you from hurting anyone else.”.
She stepped towards him. He struggled to get free, useless. Muscles too feeble, straps too tight. His heart thrashed within his chest, his nostrils vented with the strength of a steam engine.
“It’s funny actually. If you think about it, my crusade is surprisingly more compassionate than yours… heh, now which finger do we start with?”
The shed door burst open, Jill and Detective Robinson entered.
“Snow, thats enough. Robinson can take it from here.”
Snow sucked her teeth in disappointment and pitched the bolt cutters to the corner. Cecil wept with relief.
“So, all the gun toting red necks dead or locked up?” Snow inquired Jill.
“The stand off’s have been resolved, a few fatalities, but most of the congregation surrendered without incident. All the kids have been rescued and are getting the medical care they need. It’s over.”
There was a moment of pause, It had been a long and tedious night for all of them. Father Cecil had convinced the families in his congregation that their children were being influenced by the devil. Each family resorted to inhuman treatments to drive the ‘evil’ out. Detective Robinson glared at Cecil.
“They all believed this man. He demonized their children, and they bought it…”.
“Y’know, I could finish the job with Jim Jones here if you want.”
“You wont have to Snow, he’ll get the needle. No doubt about it.”
“Well, in that case I think Cecil here has a little arrhythmia. You should get it checked out, don't want his stay behind bars to be cut short.”. She mocked him one last time with a wink and a smile, the sisters left the detective to apprehend her suspect. Now with the innocent safe, they could rest a little easier this night.
The End