Joan grabbed the knob and the bathroom door and, as slowly and as quietly as she could, turned the handle. She eased the door open just a crack and peeked out. She did not see anyone in the hallway. So she opened the door a little wider. If she were to go down the hall to the left, that would take her into the living room where the front entrance was. But the living room was also where Father Ben would be waiting for her.
If she were to instead turn right, that would take her into the kitchen and the back door, which led out into the churchyard. If Joan were to take that route, she would have to hope that the doors to the church were unlocked. Otherwise there would be no way out. The stone walls of the churchyard where too high and slippery for her to climb. She would have to go through the back door of St. Vincent's, run down one of the lengthy aisles and out the front entrance. That would then bring her to the front steps of the church and out onto the street. From there she could hopefully run home.
Taking a deep breath, Joan exited the bathroom. She stepped lightly, hoping that the wooden floor would not creak. She looked to her right and peered into the living room. She could see the back of Father Ben's head as he sat on the couch. His left shoulder was moving up and down. He was clearly doing some sort of repetitive motion with his left arm or hand. And it did not take Joan long to figure out what that repetitive motion probably was.
"Joan!" he called out. "Are you alright? You've been in there a while. Hurry up! I have something for you that I think you'll like. You've been asking me for it since the first evening I met you."
Joan blushed as she remembered her first night working for Father Ben at the rectory. The forward and amorous way she had come onto him. Knowing what she now knew of Father Ben - or at least what she suspected - that first evening seemed life a lifetime ago. Even though it had only occurred a few nights prior.
Joan turned to the right and began to creep towards the kitchen.
"If you don't come out soon, I'm going to have to come in there and get you," he warned.
Treading as lightly as she could, Joan entered the kitchen. She eyed the back door from across the room. She silently prayed that she would be able to open and close it without Father Ben hearing her exit the rectory.
As she tiptoed across the linoleum something, which was moving around on the floor under the kitchen table, caught her eye. It was long, thin and grey. And had a white stripe running down the center.
It's the snake! Joan thought with alarm. The snake from her nightmare. The snake, which had slithered into her mouth and crawled down her throat. It was here in the kitchen of the rectory. Joan could not stop herself. She involuntarily screamed.
"Joan, what's wrong?" The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard thudding down the hall.
"It's a snake!" Joan cried as she recoiled away from the kitchen table.
Father Ben appeared in the hallway at the threshold of the kitchen. He swiftly tucked his erect and exposed member back into his pants.
Joan was cowering in a corner near the back door, pointing at the floor under the table.
"A snake? Where? Under the table?"
Joan fearfully nodded. The young priest stooped down and looked to where Joan was gesturing. A smile spread across his face as he broke into laughter. Joan looked on in confusion. "What's so funny?" she snapped.
The handsome cleric reached under the table and retrieved a grey strip of fabric with a white stripe stretching from end to end. "It's not a snake, Joan. It's a stole."
"A what?" she squinted at the garment.
"It's part of my vestments. When I'm all dressed up for Sunday mass, wearing my priest's robes, this piece goes over my shoulders."
"Oh ... I could have sworn ..."
"It's funny what the mind sees when it senses danger. You know, cats often mistake cucumbers for snakes. So if you're a cat person, I guess you're in good company," Father Ben teased.
"But I saw it move!" Joan insisted.
"Your eyes are playing tricks on you," he shrugged as he placed his stole on the kitchen table. The then turned to her and asked, "What are you doing in the kitchen?"
"I ... uh ... wanted a glass of water," Joan nervously swallowed.
"I thought you went into the bathroom for a glass of water." He gave her an puzzled look.
"I ... um ... I wanted some ... uh ... juice," Joan mumbled.
Father Ben opened a kitchen cabinet above the sink and grabbed a glass. He then opened the refrigerator and took out a jug of orange juice. He poured the vibrant orange liquid into the glass and extended it toward Joan, offering her the beverage.
Joan cautiously accepted it and slowly brought it to her lips. She took a timid sip and lowered the glass. She stood, frozen in an awkward pose as Father Ben scrutinized her from across the kitchen table.
"So, are you going to come back into the living room? Or would you prefer to go up stairs?" He placed the jug of juice back onto the shelf next to the milk and shut the refrigerator door. He reached down and began stroking himself through his black trousers. He looked at Joan with a rakish smile.
Joan's hands began to tremble. "I ... uh ... I ... I ..." Before she could finish her sentence, the glass she had been holding slipped from her shaking fingers and shattered all over the floor. The sound startled them both as juice splattered all over the linoleum.
"Jesus Christ!" Father Ben swore, as he looked down.
Joan decided to use that momentary distraction as an opportunity. She raced to the back entrance, flung open the door and bolted out of the rectory.
"Joan!" Father Ben hollered. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Joan leaped down the stairs of the back porch and took off running through the yard, down the stone path that led to the church. A moment later she heard Father Ben's feet as they hit the stairs not far behind her.
Joan was not confident that she could outrun the young clergyman all the way to the church. To the left she eyed the baptism chapel. If the door was unlocked, maybe she could run in there and lock the door behind her. So she veered off to the left, departing from the stone path, and sprinted towards the smaller building.
She grabbed at the door handle and pulled. Miraculously it was not locked. She yanked the door open, scurried inside and slammed the door shut behind her. She looked down and saw a locking mechanism on the knob. She pushed the button and then jiggled the handle to make sure that it was secure. She also noticed a dead bolt a few inches above. She turned the thumb latch and heard the deadbolt slide into place.
Not even a second later, a thunderous pounding was coming from the other side of the door. "Joan, open the door!" Father Ben commanded.
Joan thought her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. How was she going to get herself out of this situation? She frantically looked around the chapel for an alternate exit, but could not see one.
"Joan, I'm not going to hurt you. But we need to talk. Open this door at once!" he ordered.
From the other side of the door Joan could hear a metallic jangling sound. Horrified, she watched the doorknob judder as something penetrated it from the other side. Oh no, Joan silently fretted. Father Ben must have had the keys for St. Vincent's entire premises in his pocket.
Once again she looked around. Was there something she could use as a weapon perhaps? She did not see anything particularly useful. Maybe she could open one of the windows and sneak out that way. But as she briefly studied the stained glass windows of the chapel, she was disappointed to discover that none of them seemed to open.
The door rattled against its frame as Father Ben attempted to open it. However, he still had not unlocked the deadbolt. Once again, Joan heard the sound of keys clinking together as the young priest went about opening the remaining lock.
Father Ben was not a real Catholic priest, Joan thought decisively. But who he was exactly, she was not certain. A Satin worshiper? A man possessed by a demon?
Joan ran over to the baptismal altar in the center of the chapel and looked down into the basin. Her heart sank when she saw that it was empty. "Damn," she muttered to herself. "No holy water."
Nervously she ran back over to the door and look at the small font mounted on the wall next to the entrance. It was about half full. She removed the benitier from its holder and ran back over to the altar. She crouched down behind the christening basin, trying to make herself as small as possible and waited.
Eventually she heard a distinctive clicking and the dreaded sound of the deadbolt dragging through its chamber as it was unlocked. There was a loud creak as the chapel door slowly opened. "Joan? Joan, where are you?"
Joan could hear footsteps on the marble floor as the Father Ben strode into the chapel. She held her breath. Her eyes were wide with fear. The baptism chapel was small. It would not be long until he found her. As the footsteps neared, she wondered if it would do any good to pray. But as a shadow fell over her, she knew that it was too late for that.
"Joan, why the hell are you hiding from me?" He looked down at her with an exasperated look on his face.
Mustering up all of her courage, Joan jumped to her feet and shouted, "The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!" Gripping the small vessel in her right hand, she thrust her arm forward and threw the holy water directly into Father Ben's face.
The priest stumbled backwards as he began sputtering. "Joan, what the fuck?"
"The power of Christ compels you!" she hollered.
"The only thing I'm compelled to do right now is to give you another spanking, young lady!" he bellowed. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"
"You're not a real priest!" Joan declared. "I don't know who you are. Or what you are. But you're evil," she ranted. "The power of Christ compels you!"
"What on earth are you talking about, Joan?" he asked incredulously.
Joan's was somewhat disheartened as she watched Father Ben's anti-climactic reaction to her spontaneous attack of holy water. She was not exactly sure what she had been expecting. Was the holy watch supposed to burn him? Should her words make him recoil from her in terror? She clutched the now empty benetier in her hands as she panted with fear and adrenaline.
He looked down at the object in her hands. "Joan, did you throw holy water in my face?"
