I just wanted to say thanks uber-much to Brimo, Rizzy, Itsuyaya, Leaves of Labefaction, Knots, help911x711, dramaqueen89, iEmo, rainstains tarte, A. Harrison, Novelist, paper airplanes, AuroraBorealis, pinkfairyfloss, King of Kings, CatDrama, Fluffamyster, penpapereraser, 06johanesnad, .watching, ShadowInTheWriter, Kairi-21, and shakey for reviewing since the last chapter. (Nearly a year ago. Yikes.) I'm going to try as hard as possible to continue to update this again. A million apologies to anyone who's been waiting for this to be updated. (Probably no one. lol) There really are no excuses for why it's taken me this long to update. Honestly, there was about six months that I absolutely hated this story and couldn't stand the thought of it. That's wearing off a bit now, though, so I figured I'd get a chapter out while I was still in a non-hating mode. Again, sorry about the wait.

PENITENCE

:12:

"Let the string rest at the first joint." Chase's fingers eased over mine, pressing the pads of my fingers against the string.

I nodded faintly, loosening the tension in my fingers ever so slightly, still gripping the thin string of the bow.

"Okay," I mumbled, and then took a shallow breath. "Then what?"

"Now raise it up, but keep your elbow locked," he said, voice clear as he stood at my side. "Draw back your hand until it reaches your jaw."

I did as he said, my left hand closed tightly on the grip, fingers pressed firmly against wood as I raised the bow in front of me, focused on the target beyond. It seemed like miles away now. Taking another breath, I began to draw the string back, the arrow still pinched between my thumb and forefinger. The resistance from the bow startled me at first, but after a moment I was able to pull it back until my fingers brushed against my cheek.

"Look ahead." His voice was farther away now, and I was tempting to turn to see where he'd went, but decided not to. "Take a minute to steady your aim."

My arms were already shaking from holding the bow taut for so long; I wasn't all that worried about aim. Chances were I'd miss the target by a mile no matter how hard I tried to hit it.

"Whenever you're ready, just let go."

Easy for him to say.

"Here goes," I mumbled, biting down on my lip slightly. Eyes focused on the target, I released the arrow.

It shot so quickly that I could hardly even track it, but the sound of the tall grass rustling made it obvious that it had landed somewhere in the weeds.

"Not bad for a first try," Chase said, a teasing tone to his voice, and I lowered the bow, head hung.

"It sucked."

"It was perfect." He brought an arm around my waist, pulling me to him. "Looks like it left a mark," he mumbled, fingers grazing over the sore spot at my neck. They touched lightly against the skin.

I set the bow onto the picnic table and made a sour face. "And whose fault is that?"

"Just take your hair down," he said, tugging at the scrunchie in my hair. "No one will ever notice."

"You did get your hair cut, didn't you?"

He shrugged, his hand slipping away from my waist. "Maybe a trim." I felt the hairtie loosen, and then he handed it to me, looking pleased with himself. "Why does it matter?"

I sighed, taking the scrunchie from him and brushed down my hair some. It would cover it, I realized. "It doesn't. But you didn't tell me."

An amused expression took his features and he opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.

"Why don't you come in and get something to eat?" Mom yelled from inside the house, and I nearly flinched at the loudness of it. I glanced to Chase, who was already smiling, and gave a nod.

"You need to keep up your strength," he insisted, grabbing my hand.

"How long has it been since you've went to confessional, Hannah?"

I looked up from the magazine that I was reading on my bed and faced Mom, who was standing at the doorway.

"Not long," I lied, offering a small shrug. "Why?"

"Well, you didn't come to service this morning, for starters," she said. There was an edge to her tone that made it clear she wasn't happy about it.

I closed the magazine, propping my elbow against the bed, resting my chin on my hand. The movement shot a bolt of pain from my fingers to my wrist, everything still sore from handling the bow yesterday. "You said it was okay if I went to afternoon Mass."

Why was she suddenly having a problem with this?

She sighed, sagging against the doorway. "I'm just worried that you don't have enough time between that and work."

"Actually," I started, then bit my lip, pausing. "I was thinking of quitting."

Her eyes narrowed momentarily. "Why?"

Again, I shrugged. "I just -- I think I should get a different job," I replied quickly. "I'm not very good at prep work."

She frowned slightly, looking skeptical for a moment, but the expression quickly vanished and was replaced by curiosity.

"Do you have any other jobs in mind?"

"Not really." My fingers played with the edge of the magazine pages. I met her gaze and she held it for a moment, then sighed again, disappearing from the doorway.

Yesterday I'd called in sick to work and spent the evening shooting with Chase. The story for Mom had been that Yellowfin's wasn't going to be open that night. I was going to look for a new job, naturally, and until then, most likely lie my ass off to Mom and Dad so they wouldn't have to know the real reason I was quitting. I'd go in tonight to give my two weeks' notice, or whatever notice they needed. I didn't really like food prepping or waitressing anyway, so it wasn't really that big of a deal.

With a sigh, I began to flip through the magazine pages again.

An hour later, I was outside, petting Pooks as she rolled around on the picnic table. I'd tried calling Chase, but it kept going to voicemail, so I gave up and decided I'd take in some sun before I had to trudge off to work. It was a nice day -- a little cooler than usual, and with a breeze that kept away the humidity -- and I wanted to take advantage of it.

A few arrows from the day before were still stuck in the target. All the ones that Chase had shot. None of mine had come even close to hitting the target. Dad had been happy to hear that I'd tried my hand at the sport and offered to practice with me later on. I'd agreed, but I still wasn't sure if I would follow through on it.

And then there was confessional.

The thought of me going anymore seemed laughable.

When Scott and I got off at the bus stop that afternoon, I hadn't given much thought to the fact that neon sign above the establishment that read "Yellowfin's Family Style" wasn't lit.

Maybe the bulbs had burnt out. Or maybe someone had forgotten to turn it on. You couldn't really see it that well in the daylight, anyway.

Scott entered first and I lagged after, yawning. I was tired, but for no real reason. I'd spent the whole day doing nothing.

"We're not opening today," a somewhat familiar voice said from further inside. I looked up to see Natalie standing at the buffet, which was completely empty. "Williams wants to talk to everyone in the back."

"What? We get robbed or something?" Scott asked, scratching his head as he immediately followed Natalie towards the kitchen area. I kept up close behind, somewhat disturbed by how quiet and dark the restaurant was considering the time of day.

Sure enough, Williams and a few other employees were all standing idly in the hallway that led to the back exit. He stood against the wall, hands dug deep into his pockets.

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news," he said after a few moments of silence, shifting slightly. He looked over the others, then to Scott and I. "I'm sure that some of you already heard, but," he paused, glancing down, "Russell's dead."

I wish I could've said that I was surprised, but I wasn't. Everyone was quiet for a moment, taking in the information, and I was just. . . standing there. There was a slight numbness that bit at the tips of my fingers and made my chest feel heavy, but nothing compared to what it used to be. It was a feeling that would completely disappear once I saw Chase. I knew that by now. The sooner I saw him, the better.

"So, like what?" Scott was the first to speak up. "A car accident, or did he get shot, or what?"

"I heard that it was a drug overdose," Natalie said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "They found him collapsed in a hallway of his apartment building this morning."

A drug overdose? How did Chase manage that? I'd have to ask him later.

The conversation carried on, and all I could think about was how I should've been more upset about it. I mean, chances were likely that Chase had killed him. And I couldn't really bring myself to care too much. At least, not in the way that everyone else was.

Was there something wrong with me? Or was this just the result of becoming jaded to this sort of thing?

The answer settled in the back of my mind.

Both.

I didn't want to think about it.

"So, that's about it." Williams clasped his hands together, looking around as if he had no idea what to say next. And he probably didn't. "I'm going to try and find someone to replace him as soon as possible. I've already got someone that could start on Tuesday, maybe. So, everyone. . ." He gestured to us. "You're -- you can just go home for the night, I guess."

And even though I knew this wasn't the time to think about it, a part of me was relieved to hear that Russell was gone. Now I wouldn't have to quit.

Gradually, we all trickled out of the restaurant, and Scott, Natalie, and I congregated at the bus stop. The next one wouldn't be coming for a while. I wasn't sure exactly when, but I knew it ran every half -hour or so. Or something like that.

I clicked my heels together, stealing a glance at Natalie every now and then. She still seemed pretty shaken up. I couldn't blame her, because after all, it's all unsettling to hear that someone's died, but because it was Russell, honestly, I couldn't see anyone being too broken up about it. . .

But that was a bad way to think about it. I'd probably have to confess to thinking that next time I saw Father Reynolds.

If there was a next time.

Scott was slouched back against the fence, smoking, and I really wasn't sure what he was so quiet for. I mean, it wasn't like he cared what happened to Russell, anyway. Or maybe it was just the fact that someone he knew had died. Either way --

"I'm not the only one that hated him, right?" Scott asked suddenly as he stood straighter, pushing off the fence.

Natalie kept her gaze to the ground. I doubted she would say anything, and out of respect, neither would I.

"Yeah, okay then." Letting out a sigh, he flicked what was left of the cigarette into the trash bin a few feet away.

"Personally," Natalie spoke up, still focused on the sidewalk, "I don't think anyone deserves to die."

"What a peachy little world you live in," Scott muttered.

"Just because people make mistakes doesn't mean that they should be dead," she continued, twisting at her earrings. "Or else everyone would be dead."

"Well, we all do die," replied Scott. He glanced to Natalie and then shrugged. "In the end, I mean." There was silence for a moment, and then he quickly added, frustrated, "Besides, isn't that what confession's for, anyways?"

I gave him a look. "Not everyone's Catholic."

He scoffed. "They should be. If they're not, it's their own damn fault."

"There are other religions, you know."

"Stupid ones."

I decided not to reply and leave it at that. No use in getting into a debate about religion with him. He only saw things his way; there was no room for any other opinion or belief. Not that my view on religion differed from his, but who knew what Natalie was into. She could be Buddhist or Muslim or something and the last thing Scott should've been doing was alienating the few co-workers he had left.

A few minutes passed, and then finally, the bus appeared over the horizon. It approached at what seemed like a snail-like speed, and Natalie mumbled something that I didn't really hear.

The bus came to a stop and Scott hopped on first, followed by Natalie. I followed after them, letting out a deep sigh after I paid and glanced around for a vacant seat. There weren't many; I'd probably have to share with Scott or Natalie, and --

A hand grabbed mine, pulling me into a seat. Before I had a chance to react, I felt their lips at my ear.

"Can you keep a secret?"

The voice was all too familiar.

"Chase," I mumbled, letting out a nervous laugh as he pulled back, and I got a better look at him. There was that smile -- that satisfied smile that told me that I didn't even have to ask.

But that didn't mean I wasn't going to. Just not yet.

His hand loosened around my wrist but still lingered, and he pulled me closer to him. I rested my head against his shoulder, running a finger under the leather band of my watch. He immediately slipped his hand over mine, pulling it away.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said after a moment, something in his tone that piqued that feeling which was so easy to recognize now. "Arms still hurt from practice?"

I nodded weakly and let my arm go limp as he interlaced his fingers with mine. "Yeah."

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"You're just waiting for me to ask, aren't you?" I mumbled, frowning. His hands were so much bigger than mine. When our fingers were locked like this, at certain angles, my hand looked as if it disappeared completely.

For some reason, I kind of liked that.

"Not so much waiting as. . ." he trailed off, eyes wandering over the passengers for a moment. "Anticipating."

"Not now." I shook my head a little. "Not when we're -- " I gestured with my other hand " -- out in public."

The corners of his mouth turned downward, brow cinching. "Why? It's not like we're having sex or anything."

A woman sitting in the seat across from us gave me a weird look.

I ignored the heat that came to my cheek with those words. "I know."

"What'd you have for lunch?"

Sitting up straighter, I shrugged, running a hand through my hair. "Enough."

The look he gave me was a skeptical one. Disbelieving. "Doubt it."

I wrinkled my nose, faking annoyance. "You doubt everything."

"Nothing wrong with that," he replied, releasing his hand from mine. He slouched back in the seat, taking up more room than needed, and I crossed my legs. Unconsciously, my fingers went to my watch again. Picked at it. "If you doubt nothing, that means you believe in everything, right?"

"Why are you getting philosophical?"

"It makes things more interesting."

"I don't see how."

The woman sitting in the seat across the aisle was looking at me again, her expression almost one of contempt. Either that or disgust. I couldn't really tell and I didn't want to find out. I turned in the seat so that I was facing Chase, bracing myself between the two seats with my arms. Heat made my skin stick a little, and I shifted, not wanting to have to peel my arms off the seat once we got to our stop.

We reached it within five minutes and I said my goodbyes to Scott and Natalie, who were caught up in their own conversation further back in the bus. Chase escorted me off as if I were handicapped and once we were on the sidewalk, I gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.

"I'm not an invalid."

He grinned. "Never said you were."

"So, you're coming to my house?" I wondered aloud. We were already headed there anyway, so I wasn't really sure why I was asking.

He pretended to be surprised. "I guess I am."

"They'll want to know why I'm home early and I'll have to explain all that shit about Russell, you know," I said, my voice carrying a more serious tone now.

"I know." Shrugging, he slipped his hands into his pockets. "I can wait."

And then, despite everything moral that had ever been nailed into my conscience, I smiled.

And it was such a terrible thing to do.

Knowing that my boyfriend, the person that I loved and trusted more than anyone else in the world, had just killed one of my co-workers this morning, all I could do was smile.