"I have broken the sixth commandment."

He had never entered a Catholic Church, or any church for that matter, while being in Los Angeles. He had only ever attended the single church in Chickasha for all those years with the rest of his family.

This church had an overwhelming smell of incense, like far too much was burning, and freshly scrubbed hardwood. Wood paneling everywhere, between the stain glass windows and statues of saints.

There hadn't been a mass yet, it was later that night, but Thursday's here the confessional was open. To Roy's relief the entrance to this church was flat. He wasn't overly fond of repeating the instance where his mother's church friends carried him up the stairs. Thank god...

Roy's mouth was dry. He felt he was really being judged. Really. By the statue of Christ looking down at him, by the priest, maybe even by MacKenzie.

"Do continue..." The priest replied. He seemed surprised at Roy's words. Roy didn't blame him.

"Uh..." Roy's throat closed up. He was not going to cry in a church confessional. He'd done other things, but not that.

"How have you broken that commandment?"

Roy swallowed. "She, uh...she brought me to a place where we would be separated. She didn't want to, but she did. And after that, she..." He choked back tears. "She rolled the car."

"Some situations are completely beyond our control," the priest said.

"I could've controlled the situation and I didn't," Roy said softly. "I chose to be selfish and disregard her feelings for my own...it's not the first time I've done that."

"You are not responsible for the outcome of an accident, my son. You have not disobeyed God."

I fucked in a church but okay.

"I still feel guilty."

"The Lord will guide you on the right path, my son. You may make penance. Ask for forgiveness. Original sin is something we are all burdened with. But I do not believe your soul is in peril..."

"Thanks...?" Roy whispered.

He didn't know how confession would help him. If it did all. And he wasn't sure it did. There was no sort of closure. The funeral was today, and that's what made Roy's guilt peak most of all.

Even if he had gotten there, if Whit was truthful, did his family hate him? For real? Dade didn't seem to at least. Roy knew now anyway that his relationship with his brother was irreparable. And a part of him wanted to die again. But he couldn't. Not yet.

MacKenzie didn't seem to understand why he wanted her to bring him to the church. She seemed rather uncomfortable. She sat down in one of the pews, fidgeting until Roy wheeled over to her from the confessional.

"Do you, uh, could I just stay a bit longer to, uh...I'll meet you in the car..."

"You got a lighter?"

He tossed her one.

Why was he doing this? He had abandoned the concept of God years ago. Perhaps it was something to cling to. He didn't know. It rather bothered him.

He felt ridiculous trying to position his body to kneel in front of a god he was sure wasn't listening. And he felt his face turn red like always, noticing a woman staring at him as he attempted to pull himself up on the pew in front of him, falling back on his haunches in dismay and his legs awkwardly trailing under him.

He felt...pathetic.

He felt...disrespectful?

Unholy. Tainted. Unworthy.

Useless. Just like Whit had said. He was totally right.

He could only see Dahlia's face in the statue of the Virgin. He couldn't find it in him to pray. He'd close his eyes but couldn't see darkness.

By now she'd be cold in the earth. Her cheeks no longer rosy. Dahlia always wore black. Roy wondered what her last dress clung to her frame. If they chose to bury her in colors, or how she was in life. If they had put the flowers in her hair she always pinned.

He felt in his pocket. The flower clip was still there, the one Dahlia had given to him at the train station. His fingers were sweaty. He clutched it tightly, holding back tears.

He wasn't sure who else was praying besides that bitch who was staring at him.

Ok, I get it. I look stupid. And you either feel bad or think I look stupid so just stop.

Roy lifted his head up. He realized that people were now filling up for mass. He inhaled slowly. There was no way he was gonna have a panic attack in front of these people. But they probably weren't even looking at him. Even though he felt eyes on him.

He slowly and cautiously began to pull himself up into his wheelchair.

Jesus.

He didn't even notice a man had slid into the pew next to him and looked down at him with crossed arms and an unknown expression.

Roy hated himself. He hated everyone. He hated things. Lots. Except MacKenzie.

This wretched earth. Wretched people. Wretched decisions and accidents and consequences. He could never comprehend in the grand scheme of things how wretched it truly was.