Fucked By The Fake Priest

"You can't hide from me, Anna!"

Anna ran in the woods, the birds singing, the echoes of the cold and dark forest loud around her. Two strong men chased her fiercely, neither of them wearing a smile. She ran tiredly and decided to rest at a tall tree close by, hiding herself there.

She sat down, crying silently, looking at the two men who ran in the opposite direction close to her.

"Anna, come out now!" she heard her uncle calling. "There are wolves and poisonous snakes in these woods. If you don't come home, you won't survive the night here!"

Walking closely on the dry grass, Anna could hear his footsteps coming closer to the trunk she was hiding behind. She covered her mouth, avoiding even the slightest sound. Breathing heavily, she didn't move an inch. She stood motionless under the dark shadows of the trunk as her uncle Arnold walked past her. She remained still.

"Anna!" he called again. "You can't hide that beauty from the world. I'm doing you a great favor—let the world see you."

His voice echoed through the dark and silent woods.

From where she was hiding, she could see the two men and her uncle searching for her as they split into different directions. She saw them leaving and decided to look for a safer spot. As she tiptoed backward, trying to escape, she ran into her uncle.

He was grinning wickedly, looking at her with evil intentions. He held onto her tightly, as if he wanted to rip her skin off her flesh.

"Hey, beautiful... where do you think you're going?" he said. Anna's heart skipped a beat as she shouted, "Nooooo!"

With a heavy heartbeat and a thunderstorm raging outside, Carden woke up. He looked around and saw his friend lying close to him. His heart was still pounding heavily. He stood up to close the window because rain was splashing onto the floor through it.

He walked back to the bed.

"This feels so real... Who's the distressed lady? I haven't met her once, but her tears keep tormenting my every dream. This is more than a dream—it's a call for redemption," he said quietly amidst the thunderstorm outside.

"I will find her," he whispered, lying down on the bed and trying to get more sleep, but he ended up counting the ceiling instead.

In the Morning

"What's up, man?" Carlos said, looking at Carden who was walking toward the kitchen looking tired. "I heard you shouting last night but I was too tired to wake up. Still that nightmare again, right?" Carlos asked rhetorically, like he already knew the cause of Carden's sleepless nights.

"Yes, that nightmare again. It feels so real. It seems like a cry for redemption, but I don't know this lady... so why does she choose to torment my peace? It's crazy. How can I find her so she can leave my dreams alone?" Carden said, looking tired and helpless as he tried to make coffee.

"Man, you need to calm down. It's just a dream. It will wear off with time," Carlos said, trying to console him.

"You don't get it, Carlos. It doesn't wear off. It's been six months now I've been having this dream. It's not wearing off anytime soon." He sipped his coffee bit by bit.

"I know how frustrating it is, but you still need to calm down," Carlos said again.

"It's not about calming down. I need to find her, or I won't be at peace," Carden said.

"So what are you going to do? Where are you gonna look for her? Or will you get on TV and say, 'There's a girl in my dream who needs help. She looks hot, snow skin, long hair—please help me find her'?" Carlos joked.

Carden sighed. "I just don't know what to do... but I have this belief that I'm gonna find her."

"Okay, if you say so. But don't be too hard on yourself. Before I forget, there's an auction today at that new gallery. I want us to go check their new collections, have a boys' time, and end up clubbing tonight. That might help you cool off," Carlos said.

"Thanks, man. I think I need that. Maybe I might bump into her," Carden said, trying to joke but meaning every word.

Carlos laughed loudly. "Yes, for sure—your little dream girl."

Carden hissed. "Let me go freshen up so we can go to the new gallery."

At the Gallery

"These portraits are beautiful," Carlos said while looking at a portrait of Medusa with her snake hair holding a man's face—turned to stone—while she displayed her tongue.

"Yeah, this is insane and scary," Carden replied as they walked past other portraits, amazed.

The gallery man walked up to them after attending to other customers. "That's a fine portrait," he said. They turned to look at him.

"Good day, gentlemen," he greeted. "Good day," they replied in unison.

"Your pieces are nice and captivating. I really love them," Carden said.

"Thank you, sir," the man replied. "But I've got one that's really calling. I just sold a piece of it, and it was worth $100,000."

"Wow, someone paid $100,000 for a piece? That piece must be really good," Carlos said, surprised.

"Yes, it was worth it," the gallery man smiled. "I might raise the bid next time. It's really good. Would you love to see the piece?"

"Sure, I'd love to see it. Maybe it's a piece of Medusa naked," Carlos joked naughtily.

Carden smiled. "No sir, we're good. We just need to check others—thanks for the offer." His eyes scanned through other portraits as if searching for something.

Carlos hesitated. "No way, man. We need to see it. Don't be boring."

He urged Carden not to keep the man waiting. After a long persuasion, Carden agreed.

The gallery man led them to his inner chamber filled with dusty portraits that had been sitting there for years.

"It's dusty in here. You don't clean this place?" Carlos asked, trying to remove cobwebs from his face. Carden looked at him like he was telling him silently to stop complaining—after all, he wanted to see this portrait.

The gallery man smiled. "Sorry. This is where I keep important portraits to avoid them being stolen." He stood close to a piece with its image turned backward.

"And this is what I was telling you about," he said, raising a portrait and showing it to them.

Caden froze. His eyes widened, heart slamming against his ribs. "Oh my goodness..." he whispered—the word barely forming.