The Bar

13. Rain

The storm was getting worse. Thunder and lightning burst across the sky. The roads were empty because it was so late, allowing for a swift drive home for both Clara and Flint. 

Flint arrived at his home, slamming his keys onto the kitchen counter. He stormed his fridge for any sort of liquid courage. He needed help, a lot of help. Over the past two weeks his house had been a shelter for him to drink, jerk off, and sleep. He was a mess and it was only getting worse. He wanted to plunge himself deep into the girl, he wanted her screaming his name.

Flint was out of alcohol. He curses himself for owning a damn bar but not having alcohol in his own home. He paces around his house, trying to calm himself down.
He went to his balcony and watched the lights of the city dim. He was getting more and more frustrated by the minute.

Clara arrived home with worry. She knew her family would be asleep when she got home, thus allowing her not to worry about her attire. Her tight jeans and low cut shirt and wedged heels were sinful. However, once she pulled into the driveway, she was terrified at the sight if her living room light on. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe it was nothing?

She put on her blue hoodie and zipped up to cover herself. She slipped off her wedged boots and put them into the duffel bag with her good-girl clothes. She slipped on a pair of Birkenstock and zipped up the bag.

She approached the door, ready for whatever it was that was waiting for her. However, she was not expecting her priest to open the door.

She stepped in, Father Thomas was holding a rosary and a bible. He looked innocent and worried but she knew the man well enough to know that he wasn't innocent.

"Clara, dear, come with me," he says moving towards the kitchen.

Once in the entryway her heart rate quickens. She'd been in this situation before. The punishments usually came from Father Thomas or another respected man in the church, but to have four sitting at her table with the priest in the entryway, she knew that this punishment would last all night.

She took a step back. Father Thomas smirked evilly at the girl.

"Now, now, dear. You have only had to go through Retribution once in your life. Let's talk this over before it comes to that," he says.

Retribution was the title given to the church's punishment of young girls. In the church's view, a girl was much more vulnerable to the devil's sinful ways. If a girl (usually 15 and older) was spiraling down a dark path, the church would step in. Usually it was handled by a man, chosen by the father, to "harm" the girl.
After the incident Clara had faced two years ago, the church thought it would be necessary to have her go through Retribution to prevent her from going down the devil's path.

Clara bolted to the door, out in the rain and away from the house. Fear struck her entire body.
She swung the duffel bag around her shoulder and ran as fast as she could in the storm of the night.

                _____________________

Flint went back inside his kitchen. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and began to unscrew the cap. His phone vibrated on the kitchen counter. He picked up the device and viewed the notification from his security system. The camera outside the bar had caught movement outside his door.
He opened the app and swiped through the views of his bar. Once he reached the camera that showed his front door, he froze. Worry came over him like a blanket over a bed. He grabbed his phone and keys and sprinted out the door.

               _____________________

Clara was freezing and damp. The pouring ran made her look like she just jumped into a lake. She was dripping wet. Her clothes clung to her body for dear life. She was shivering as she sat at the door of the bar, her knees tucked to her chest. She was in a frightened state. Tears flowed down her cheeks.
Headlights shined through the side street of the bar but she didn't move at all. Memories of Retribution front two years ago were causing her to sink into a fearful abyss.

"Clara!" A voice called out. She didn't move, not when the voice called out and not when a figure came into her view.

Flint kneels in front of the scared girl. He was confused at her state.
His hands moved to cup her face and bring her to look at him but she was in shock.

"Clara? What happened?" He asked.

"It was gonna happen again......I didn't know what to do, where to go," she sobbed. He pulled the crying girl to his chest. Her head snuggled against his damp shirt.

He wanted to know who had hurt her, he wanted to hurt them and put them into a cloud of misery, but right now he needed to keep her safe.