With everyone seated in their usual spots, bibles from home in hand all eyes were now on the preacher, and he seemed to take a moment to just stand there and bask in their attention. He stood at the very center of the church, yanked the cross necklace hanging from his neck and held it forward, hands shaking. “But I am not surprised! Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.” He begins, shouting with such fervor and so suddenly, a few people in the audience flinched. He slowly drags the cross across the crowd and glares forward, as if expecting someone present to suddenly reveal themselves as a devil. But no one moves or even dares to breathe. He steps forward, now glaring at poor Mary Wordsworth like she was the devil himself. She doesn't respond, confused and in shock as he points the cross at her. “It is not surprising then, if his servants also disguise themselves as servants of righteousness. In the end they will get the punishment their wicked deeds deserve.” He finishes and Mary looks like she's about to burst into tears. Her father has seen enough and stands, slamming his bible on the bench with a loud thud that echoes trough the church. “What in god's name are you doing?” He shouts, face red with embarrassment and rage.  

“Merely telling you gods good word, sir.” The preacher repeats, tone and posture switching indignant. “By accusing my daughter of being the devil's servant?” Mister Wordsworth asks, stepping closer. The preacher mirrors him, also stepping closer. No one else in the church says anything. The preacher suddenly grins, tilting his head. “Surely you're aware your dear daughter has been sleeping with the butcher boy?” He asks and Mary's face turns beet red, and the butcher's son shifts in his seat. Some people gasp, some began to whisper, a few people laugh, and others begin to wish they were anywhere but here right now. Mister Wordsworth scoffs and his wife stands up and leaves in tears. “Thats right, your dear chaste Mary, premarital fucking a man right under your nose.” He continues, grin widening and eyes glinting with glee. Mister Wordsworth glares at him before turning his gaze to her daughter, grabbing her and dragging her out of the church while she begins pleading for forgiveness. “God sees all, Mister Wordsworth.” The preacher shouts after them, theatrically pointing the stained-glass image of God on one of the church's windows. “God sees all.” He repeats, eyes glancing at each and every row of people. “Think that deserves an amen from you folks.” He says, smiling and walking back to the stage like nothing abnormal happened. Unable to do anything else, a few folks in the crowd mutter the word before going silent. 

“But God also forgives.” He clasps his hands in prayer and looks upwards, eyes suddenly misty. “So come on down here Billy boy. Come and let God forgive you for your sinful lust.” The preacher says and looks at the butcher's son, who is currently hiding his face under his hat while his parents look down with shame. The preacher locks onto Billy, opening his arms. Billy stays seated, only moving once his father nudges him a few times. He keeps his eyes down and no one says anything to him. Everyone is simply grateful that they aren't the one the preacher is targeting. This is not a Sunday sermon anymore, this is public humiliation under the guise of God and goodness. Billy stands, straight and unmoving as a statue as the preacher hugs him tight, whispering something into his ear. Billy nods, kneeling in front of the crowd and clasping his hands in prayer. “Confess thy sins, son. Confess and He may forgive.” The preacher states and places his hand on top of Billys head. “I was lustful. Unable to control my desires. So, I slept with someone before marriage.” Billy speaks, voice wavering and his whole posture tense. The preacher shakes his head and tuts. “Come on now Billy. You slept with her? Don't soften up your dirty deeds of sin. You fucked her.” He grabs Billys hair and forces him to look up at him. “Say it son. You fucked her. You went and fucked Mary like a filthy animal.” Billy shakes his head, tears now flowing, clearly not wanting to say it. But he doesn't let up or loosen his hold. “Say it.” He seethes. Someone in the crowd pipes up and repeats it. Then someone else follows. And just like that, the whole church begins to chant it, caught up in the moment. “Say it, say it, say it.” They chant as one and the tension in the air begins to rise as Billy bites his lip, not wanting to cave. He squeezes his eyes shut, trembling. It finally becomes too much, and he whimpers the words out. “I fucked her.” The tension snaps and the crowd cheers. The preacher lets go of his hair and smiles, clapping for a moment too before gesturing for everyone to quiet down and almost instantly they do.