Fr Brown by Heather Knight |
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'My mother was a vile woman,' I said. Father Brown looked at me like he always did. Eyes big and round with shock. I enjoyed upsetting him. He was such a cuddly man... Those were my favourite ... the nicest ones made the best victims. 'Don't say that, April.' I laughed cruelly. I didn't care anymore. I had to make the most of the time I had left. 'It's true. Do you know how many men she slept with when I was little? And she did it with me in the house. I could hear everything...' Father Brown scratched his chin thoughtfully. It was his urticaria, whenever he got nervous he got a skin rash. 'So, are you sure you don't want to confess?' he asked me after a while. 'It would do you good.' 'No, thanks, Father. I'm sure there's a toasty place in hell with my name on it.' He flinched and sighed. Then he sat down. He was exhausted. I exhausted him. It was so much fun! I finally heard the noise I had been expecting for the past twenty minutes. The metal door opened and a guard stood outside my door. 'Do you want me to stay?' Father Brown asked me. 'I don't care either way,' I said. Despite myself, my hands had started to tremble and a cold sweat drenched my lower back. Shuddering, I realized I was about to find out if they said 'dead man walking' for a woman. Or was it 'dead woman walking'?
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Heather Knight
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