Jeremy's POV:

The faint scent of the oily holy water is trapped in the air from when I dipped my fingers and made the sign of the cross as I entered the church not even twenty minutes earlier. It's a Thursday evening and I'm waiting my turn to go into the confession room to speak with the priest.

It's only been three days and my soul is already tainted with the Devil's touch. Not only from my actions, but from my horrible thoughts that I shouldn't have.

I've worked so hard to be a child of God like my parents have raised me, but I let them down every time. They make sure I know when I've done something wrong, and I feel absolutely terrible whenever I disappoint them.

I'm not perfect like Stephanie, who's only twenty two but is already married and has two kids who will follow in her footsteps and be children of God as well. My relationship doesn't feel right like Jackie's long term relationship with her boyfriend.

I'm just the family disappointment who always has sinful thoughts and cannot control my unnatural desires.

The priest opens the door and one of the other Parish members, a younger girl named Gianna, leaves the room.

Father Peter sees me and waves me in, looking as severe as always. He has piercing blue eyes that always feel as though they can see my very soul and can see the marks that the Devil has left on me.

All from my own disgusting thoughts.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession," I say softly, looking at my sweaty hands.

The confession room is always so humid and stuffy.

"Tell me your sins, Jeremy," Father Peter says, sounding bored as he leans back in his chair.

"...I keep having sexual urges and they're not for my girlfriend," I say, my face burning red. "I keep dreaming of sexual acts with men and I know it's wrong but I haven't found a way to control it. I have tried ice, prayer, and slapping the rubber band against my wrist like you suggested, but it doesn't work. I don't want to disappoint God or my family."

Father Peter sighs deeply. "This is extremely disappointing, as you have committed a deep sin, though unconscious, in only three days. I can pray for God to wipe your sins away, but if you cannot put a stop to these unnatural urges, I cannot continue to clean your soul."

"What do I do, Father?" I ask, fear striking my gut and making me shiver.

"Continue to use the rubber band on your wrist when you have urges and pray the Our Father and three Hail Mary's every night before bed. I wish to not report this to your parents, but if these urges continue, they will need to step in and assist me."

I was told when I was younger that confession was confidential and the priest couldn't tell my family what I told him. Apparently, with how close my family is to the church, the case is different for me because my urges are so unnatural.

I don't want to go to Hell.

"Thank you for your time, Father," I say, standing up and leaving once he dismisses me with a wave of his hand.

The church is always cold in the main room, making a chill run down my spine. Every time I walk through the church after confession, I feel as though all of the statues of saints are staring at me, mocking my sins.

I open the main door and see a little red Ford car and my girlfriend, Amanda, leaning against it.

She's smoking a cigarette, even though we both know it's a sin.

"Hey," she calls, throwing her cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. "I went to your house and your parents said you were here."

I nod, not in the mood to talk.

"You know that you don't have to go to confession every single week, right?" she asks, glaring at the church. "Father Peter is a fucking dick."

I slide into the passenger seat. "You shouldn't curse, Amanda."

"Fuck that rule. My dad curses all the time and he's apparently a role model in the church community," she scowls, starting the car.

Amanda and I have known each other forever, as we grew up with both of our parents involved in the church and we went to the same Catholic boarding school from sixth to eighth grade. We've always been friends, and I asked her out my freshman year of high school because my older sister, Jackie, said that it was the best time to commit to someone involved in the church if I wanted to please my parents.

Not that Jackie would know; her boyfriend isn't involved in the church at all.

Amanda hates the church, but she keeps her opinions quiet around my parents. She barely talks to her own parents, as she's a year older than me and goes to Rowan University.

We see each other often, with my family living not far from her campus, and she always comments how I dedicate myself too much to the church.

As if I have any other choice; my parents would disown me if I turned away from God and it would send me straight to Hell.

I roll down my window so I don't smell like cigarette smoke when I get home.

"How was school?" Amanda asks, turning down the music before she grabs my hand across the console.

I shrug. "Boring."

"You're not very talkative tonight."

"I just don't feel that great."

She doesn't need to know that I've been dreaming of men and been having orgasms while I sleep because of it. It's basically cheating on her!

Amanda deserves a good, loyal boyfriend who takes good care of her and treats her well. She's a gorgeous girl, with chin length wavy brown hair, hazel eyes, and tanned skin. She's every normal guy's dream, with her great humor and bubbly personality.

I'm not going to let my unusual, disgusting urges ruin our relationship. We're supposed to get married and have babies that'll be raised in the church just like we were.

"You know you can tell me anything, right Jeremy? Even if we're dating, I'm still here for you as your best friend," she says, squeezing my hand.

I force a tight lipped smile. "Thanks, Amanda."

The rest of the ride is silent, and when I get home, I walk inside in silence. Even if I want Amanda to come inside and eat dinner with me, she smells like cigarettes and if my parents smelled it, they'd tell her dad.

Unfortunately, Amanda's schooling is paid for by her parents and they'd cut her off or send her to a private, Catholic college if she were to be caught doing something considered unholy.

"How was confession?" Dad asks me, making a chill run down my spine as I enter the house.

"Good," I lie, noting that I'll have to tell Father Peter about my white lie at the next confession.

Stephanie, my older sister, looks at me suspiciously when I say that. "Then why do you still have the rubber band on your wrist?" she asks.

Father Peter told my parents initially when I started having unholy urges for me, and my whole family made it their job to make sure I used the rubber band on my wrist accordingly.

"Because I forgot about it."

Another lie.

Why am I like this?

"The mark on your arm looks fresh," Stephanie says, still glaring at me. "Are you still thinking like a fag, Jeremy?"

"No, I'm not!" I shout, too loudly for it to be honest. "I have homework. I'm going to my room."

Another lie.

I finished my homework during my free period.

"Without dinner?" Mom asks me, looking almost concerned, but I know dinner will be an interrogation and I really don't want to tell more lies tonight.

I need to get out of here.

"Yes, I have a lot of reading and I'm really tired."

"We will have a discussion after school tomorrow," Dad says, dismissing me up the stairs.

I run to my room and take out my phone to text Amanda.

Me: What are you doing tonight?

Amanda: I was going to do homework but I can hold off. What's up?

Me: Stephanie was trying to figure out what I said at confession and I need to get out of here.

Amanda: You? Sneaking out?

Me: Sneaking out is not a sin. The lie of omission is a sin, but it's not as severe as other sins.

Amanda: I'll be there in a few.

I climb out my window, thankful for the tree with the jagged branches that has been outside my window since before I was born. I scramble down it and run to the curb and get in Amanda's car.

I've snuck out once before when I was seventeen and Father Peter told me the lie of omission was wrong and I should confess to my parents.

I never did.

"Where are we going?" I ask as Amanda pulls onto the road. "Your dorm?"

She shakes her head. "We're going to a party."

"A party? Amanda, parties have alcohol and we can't drink."

"You need to take a fucking break from the church, Jer. Not every fucking thing you do is going to send you to Hell. Just be a damn teenager for tonight. You're eighteen and you always act like a nervous twelve year old."

She sounds pissed, but I can understand.

I'm a shitty boyfriend, I'm boring, and she's probably tired of babysitting me when she could have someone else to take care of her and be her lover.

"Just let loose for tonight," Amanda says, reaching over and patting my thigh. "You're not going to be punished or whatever for going to one party."

"It's not the party I'm worried about."

She sighs. "Just don't drink if you don't want to. Okay?"

I agree with her, promising that I'll give it a try. Be a normal teenager. Even if Father Peter will be judgmental for it and say God doesn't like when his children go to places with negative peer influences, I can at least do this for my girlfriend.

Right?

We pull up to the huge house where people are already making out in the entry way and there's red solo cups everywhere.

I can do this.