Unwelcome Bodies by Jennifer Pelland Read Free Book Online

him like that for money? What kind of a whore was she?
    Alex left immediately. He never went back to the Teardrop Lounge again. Not for drinks. But two days later, he hid in the shadows behind his car, a chloroform-soaked rag in his hand, waiting for her shift to end. As usual, she left ten minutes before her coworkers did so she could catch the Night Owl bus. He had her all to himself. When she passed his car, he darted forward and covered her mouth and nose with the rag, holding her tiny body tight while she briefly struggled, then sagged unconscious in his arms. Quickly, before anyone could see them, he stuffed her into a body bag with practiced motions, checked to make sure he’d left no sign of their struggle behind, carried her to the backseat of his car, then injected her with lidocane to stop her heart.
    No one saw him sneak through the New England Medical loading dock and stuff her body in the basement incinerator at two a.m. No one noticed him when he snuck back out two hours later with a paper sack. He dumped her bone chunks in Boston Harbor, then walked six blocks to St. Stanislaus Church to wait for it to open. He had one last thing to take care of and it would be over. All he had to do was make it through the next two hours without dying. He sat on a bench in the small park across the street from the church, two fingers on his pulse, two eyes keeping watch around him. He wouldn’t let death sneak up on him. He was going to make it through this. That bitch wouldn’t be his undoing.
    At seven a.m., he crossed the street, climbed the stone stairs, and pushed open the cool wooden door. The familiar stained-glass-filtered light greeted him, a light that never changed from church to church. When he had been a boy, that light had been such a comfort. He didn’t need to worry about Mother’s headaches and Father’s rages when he’d been sitting in the pews, swaddled in the dusty colored motes of light. But now that he was older and understood just how fragile a thing mortality was, the light served as yet another reminder of the penalty for not following the rules.
    He ducked into a confessional and waited.
    The panel slid aside. “Go ahead.”
    “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been three days since my last confession.”
    “Only three days? What’s troubling you?”
    Alex rubbed his palms together. “There was a woman. I… I loved her and I got a divorce in order to be with her.”
    “Oh. I see. I don’t recognize your voice. Have you spoken to your parish priest about this?”
    “Yes, but—no, that’s not the part I’m here to confess. I loved her and she…” Alex pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. “I thought we’d be happy together, but she’d been pretending all along.”
    “So you left your wife for someone who didn’t love you back.”
    “That’s not it!” Alex snapped, then buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”
    “Go on. I’ll listen.”
    “I killed her.” There. He’d said it. He’d confessed. He’d confessed to a mortal sin. Alex’s chest tightened, and he pressed his hand against his sternum, his shirt sticking to his clammy flesh. No, God couldn’t give him a heart attack before he got a chance for penance. God couldn’t be that vengeful. God was love, right? God had to forgive him. He had to. That was the rule. Rules were important. The world ran on rules. If you took something out, you put it away when you were finished with it. If you made a mistake during surgery, you went before a board of inquiry. If you made noise when Mother had one of her headaches, Father spanked you. And if you sinned, God forgave you.
    Finally, the priest said, “Son, I…This is…” He let out a long sigh. “You’re saying you committed murder. I can’t just—”
    “Please, I need to be absolved. Give me my penance, quick.” Even though he knew it was a medical impossibility, Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that his heart was going to