The Rider found himself gazing at a man of God. Reverend John Kline, a priest who could see the sins of everyone around him and was finally given the means to do something more than preach on dead ears.
He was given a room with eight sinners. Nine counting the unborn child housed in the body of one. By request they were all chained to the floor and ceiling. Men and women locked with their heads down and their arms wrenched behind and up. Naked every one.
His sermon was already in progress as he dressed them down for their crimes against God. The first was the pregnant woman, and obviously so. An unwed mother that he mocked for her loose ways. Lipstick the color of blood, the color of a harlot, was forcefully pressed over her face. Painting her as the whore she was.
When he ended his prayer and she only cried and begged to be let go... for the sake of her child... he grabbed her hair and snarled at her. She had no right to ignore the Lord in such a manner. The bible, the good book, came down on her back. He would beat the sin out of her.
Again... and again... and again it fell. Her body, already strained by the chains, unable to hold up. Her shoulders were wrenched from their sockets, body falling like a broken doll as she screamed. Not just for the agony of her arms, but for the feeling of loss between her legs. The splash of liquid that dripped out and the life of the unborn innocent ceased to be while its mother sobbed and the Preacher began his sermon anew.
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