That same night, Dad took Adam to the church. He made the boy dress in his church clothes--his nice pants, nice shirt, nice shoes. He made him comb his hair, made him brush his teeth, made him walk straighter. 

The church was dark on the outside, but the glow of the stained-glass windows beamed out into the night air. Inside, they stepped through the threshold. His father dipped his finger into the font. Adam followed him down the aisle. The air of the church this evening was thick with dust and mildew. The smell was barely noticeable in the day, but now, for some reason, it had grown, swollen. At the end of the aisle, across the dais was Father Carter draped in his black vestments, a low-hanging golden cross around his neck. But what caught his eye was Gabriel. The other boy wore white robes, and Gabriel glistened as Adam came closer. It was water. He was soaked from his hair to his torso, the white robes clinging to his skin. Gabriel was breathing heavily. His eyes were puffy and red when Adam rounded him. 

He raised a hand, “Hi.” His voice was a mere squeak of what it usually was. Gabriel’s eyes flicked up at him and then back at the ground. 

“Gabe, I’m--” He stopped. Adam’s eyes fell to the boy's hands and his heart hitched.

On each of his fingers were spiked silver rings, all attached to small chains. Gabriel’s small fingers were irritated and red. When Gabriel’s eyes met Adam’s, he let his hands fall open. The boy winced, clasping his hands back together. A bead of blood rolled down his wrist. He looked exhausted. Damp and exhausted, shivering and exhausted. Afraid. And exhausted. Adam had neve

Dad guided Adam away from Gabriel, off to the side out of the way of Father Carter. The pastor, donned in his vestments, looked otherworldly. The church lights gleaned through the dusty air, cutting right onto Father Carter. Not quite shone on him, lighting him up. It was as if the light refracted around him, and fell just short of him, yet, still, it surrounded him. Like a cage.

Father Carter stepped towards Gabriel, slipping to one knee. In his large hands was an iron font. His lips parted but the blood in Adam’s ears rushed, pulsating in his head with its thudding, deafening all sound. He was seeing spots. His breaths came in quick succession, rapid and shallow. Adam could’t bear to see Gabriel punished like this--he was to blame. It was his fault.

“Stop,” his voice was low. His words feeble and fall on unassuming ears. 

Adam tried again, “Stop!” it was a squeak. A sharp sound echoed in the halls of the church. Dad clutched his shoulder tighter. Father Carter turned to him.

“Adam,” and there was the gravel, the rumbling that rose out of the pastor’s chest. The sound reached for Adam and held him, enveloping him in shame. “Gabriel must learn. Gabriel must see the truth.”

A lump lodged itselfr in Adam’s throat, but he swallowed around it. “You’re hurting him.” He was going to cry. Adam never cried. Boys don’t cry. 

Dad turned Adam to face him. He too slipped to one knee, “Pain matures our faith, Adam.” His small hands were gripped by Dad’s, held firmly. Adam was acutely aware of how much smaller he was compared to both men, but something in him, a beating, thunderous something tore through him. He ripped his hands from Dad’s grasp and lunged towards Father Carter. He launched each kick and punch through bleary, wet eyes. He screamed rapturously into the man’s ears, he pushed and shoved, and fought with all his might until his muscles sored, until the breath in his lungs burned, until he could not fight anymore but relented. This was his friend. His only friend. His best friend and he was in pain. Adam wanted nothing more than to stop it. 

Two large hands lifted him off his feet. They clutched his wrists in an entanglement of fingers. “Stop! Stop it! Let me go-oo.” He sobbed out, snot and tears and drool running down his face. 

“Let him go-o! It was my fault! Stop!” Through Adam’s teary eyes, he saw Gabriel looking at him. His face reddened from crying, his hands irritated and bleeding. He shook violently. 

Then he saw Gabreiel’s mouth open. He mouthed something and while Adam couldn’t exactly decipher it, he knew--he understood. They spoke a different language with one another, a deeper way of meaning had come over the two of them. Silence never estranged them. Awkwardness never unease them. Existence was easier between them. 

Adam stopped. He stopped his fighting and watched, through it all--the blood, the pain, the cold, the exhaustion--as Gabriel smiled. And that smile was hopeful. This was a punishment and he would be fine. They’d been in school together. They’d be playing together soon. Once more, they would be fine. 

“Are you done?” Dad asked, dark eyes glaring at his son. Adam sniffled and gave the smallest nod. Adam shifted to his father’s side and they watched together as Father Carter prayed over Gabriel, and doused him with the font. 

The pastor turned to disappear into the wings, “Jacob, will you come with me?” Adam looked up at his father. “Stay.” Dad said and followed Father Carter, out of sight. 

Adam walked over to Gabriel. The water had poured the blood off of his hands, though it dribbled down his wrists, diluted and pinkish. 

“Hi,” said Adam, trying to keep his voice steady.

Gabriel smiled, “hi.”

They stood like that, looking at each other. Into each other’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Adam looked at his feet.

Gabriel replied, “It’s not your fault,” a pause, “I’m a big crybaby.” A sniffle.

Adam raised his gaze, “Do you think you’ll get out before school Monday?” He wiped his nose of the snot slipping over his lips.

Gabriel said, “I hope so.” For a moment, he let his hands drop. Then cried out, a small noise, like stepping on a dog’s toe. He clasped them. A tear rolled down his cheek. “Can you take them off?” asked Adam.

Gabriel shook his head. “Only Dad can.” 

“Oh.” Adam stared at Gabriel’s face. Another tear rolled down his cheek. He wasn’t sure why, but he reached up with his thumb and wiped it away. Gabriel was staring right at him as he did. Silence fell over them, but it was sweet. It was gentle. It was overwhelming for both of them. Another tear rolled and Adam wiped it away. Then another. And another. Tears slipped over Gabriel’s face and with each one, Adam cleaned it away, cleaned his sorrow and his pain.

He wanted to cry, too. He could feel the tears pressing behind his eyes but he took large breaths to hold them back. This was about Gabriel. Gabriel wasn’t in the position to wipe his face and Adam was okay with that. He was very, very okay with being the one to take care of Gabriel this time because he knew that Gabriel would do the same for him. 

“Adam.” Dad’s voice made him turn. He and the pastor returned. A large, glinting knife flickered in Father Carter’s hand. Adam froze. They were going to kill him.

“No!” He shrieked, standing in front of Gabriel. “No! You can’t hurt him! I won’t let you!” 

“Adam,” started Dad, but Adamc continued his wailing.

“Stop it! This is- this isn’t fair! Stop!” he couldn’t find any other words.

“Adam we’re not going to hurt him.”

“But you are! Look at his hands!” The tears were now on the edges of his eyes.

Dad grabbed Adam and pulled him, kicking and screaming, fof to the side. Father Carter knelt in front of his son and pressed their foreheads together. He whispered something but Adam couldn’t make it out.

“Come,” the pastor rose and walked to the right of the dais towards the wall. Gabriel remained in place. 

When Father Carter noticed him not following, he turned his head, “Gabriel.” Low was his voice.

Gabriel shook his head, eyes dark, face paled. “Daddy…please…”

“Gabriel.” Again, low like a rolling storm. “I will not ask again.”

“But-”

Like a crack of thunder, “Gabriel!” The boy startled. It was enough to urge him forward. He took a step, then another,m until he was behind his father.

“Where are they going?” asked Adam as he watched. Dad remained silent.

As he watched Gabriel and the pastor walked towards the wall of the church, slipping beneath the light, he saw it--the door. Cast in shadow, he felt a crippling unease stalk inside him. 

“Please, daddy..” Gabriel said. His white gown remained visible through the darkness of that small corridor before the door.“I can be better.”

“No.” Father Carter did not turn. He reached for the door handle in the dark.”You must learn to be better.” 

When the door opened, a breeze gusted through, into the church. The unease in Adam’s body sinched itself into paranoia, fear--absolute terror. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t. The lights in the church dimmed. The darkness was no longer simply darkness. 

Then Father Carter stepped through the threshold into the darkness, swallowed whole and gone. Gabriel turned back.

Once more, he mouthed something. The boy flinched towards the darkness and stepped through. The door shut from the other side.

Adam was stunned. He had stopped his kicking and screaming. Dad, too, remained silent and still.

After a moment, Adam whispered, “Where did they go?” Dad finally let him loose. He walked over to the corridor but stopped several feet away. The darkness looming in the space between him and the door urged him away. He turned back to Dad.

“Dad, where’s Gabriel?” He said. Dad said nothing. 

‘Dad!” Adam screamed, “where is he?!” He ran over to the minister, grabbing his wrist with his small hands.

Dad looked down. His eyes flickered at his son, “Gabriel is… he will be fine. He will be back.” But Adam could smell the lie. He knew it plain as day. 

“Let’s go home, bud.” Dad started for the door, “I hope this will teach you as much as it taught Gabriel.” 

Adam stood, staring at the darkness. He clenched his small hands into fists. His body was vibrating. He was shaking: rage, fear? Whatever it was it seethed in him, deep into his bones. Gabriel had mouthed something at him. On most occasions, he never knew the exact meaning, he could never translate well enough to understand it. But he knew what Gabriel meant this time. 

Find me.