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.

Oh my goodness..." Carden froze, the breath caught in his throat as his eyes traced the portrait. There she was- the woman whose beauty seemed too ethereal to belong to the mortal world. Skin pale and delicate like freshly fallen snow. Grey curls cascading over her shoulders in perfect, soft waves, framing the kind of face painters could spend lifetimes trying to capture. She looked like a snow queen sculpted from winter itself- elegant, untouchable, devastatingly flawless. Her long, silky night-lingerie clung to her curves in a way that made her seem both innocent and sinful.

Her eyes-icy blue and impossibly clear-held the depth of a sea goddess, calling, tempting, pulling anyone who dared to look too long. And her face... God, her face. It shimmered with the gentle glow of moonlight dancing on the surface of a quiet ocean-soft, haunting, and heartbreakingly pure. One look at her, and the world around him simply stopped. silent. "Wow, this is beautiful," Carlos said, cutting the silence. "How could an artist be this good? I'm amazed by the motivation behind this piece. I'm not gonna lie-I would sell it for a million dollars. It looks so real and captivating." "Yes, you're right. But there's something interesting about this piece," the gallery man added. "Rumor says she's real." "She's real...?" Carden muttered, still in awe. "Yes, she is. Rumor has it she stays kilometers away in a mansion. She isn't an imaginary painting. She lives. That's why people love buying this piece." "Wow... she's damn gorgeous. No, no, I don't believe she's real. Such a goddess can't be real," Carlos said in amazement, still staring at the portrait. "I know, right?" the gallery man continued. "They said she's a virgin-she hasn't been touched by a man. Her owner restricts her from seeing or getting close to any man. And if a man mistakenly holds her hand, the owner demands an arrest with a high charge of defamation, then sends for a priest to pray for her. He believes the girl's innocence is the reason her portraits sell so much. Only priests are allowed near her." "The portrait is beautiful, and the story behind it is mind-blowing," Carlos added, then noticed his friend looking lost, staring at the portrait like he had seen a ghost. "Carden... Carden!" he called. "Are you okay?" Carden jolted out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm fine." "How much did you say this piece is again?" he asked the man. "One hundred thousand dollars," the man replied. Carden hesitated for a moment, like something was calculating in his mind. "It's the last piece of this portrait I have for now," the man continued. "And I don't know how long it will take to get another. It's rare in the market." "I'll buy this one," Carden said. Carlos stared at him, shocked, unable to imagine why his friend would buy a portrait for a hundred thousand dollars. "You are crazy, man! Don't tell me you want to buy it. I know it's beautiful and captivating, but that's not enough reason to spend that much on a painting!" Carlos said angrily. "You won't understand, Carlos. I'll explain later," Carden replied, bringing out his phone to make the transfer. "Which method of payment do you accept, sir? I really need this painting." The gallery man smiled happily at the success of his sale. "Let's go to the front desk. I'll give you the details there." "Okay," Carden said. "Please come with the painting." He urged Carlos-already upset-to walk out of the dusty room. The man nodded, carrying the painting behind them as they walked out. At the front desk, he gave Carden the company account. Carden made the transfer with a big smile on his face, which made Carlos grow even angrier. He still couldn't understand why his friend would spend so much on a painting. "I've seen it. Thank you a lot, gentlemen," the man said, handing the portrait to Carden-who refused home delivery and chose to take it himself. He smiled as the portrait was placed in his hands. He looked at it closely, smiling with satisfaction. As they were about to leave, he turned back to the man. "Do you know the location of the mansion?" he asked. The man replied, "I heard it's in the heart of Sicily. It's heavily armed and owned by a powerful and dreadful man. The whole of Sicily fears him because of the men he controls. He has many people doing dirty work for him. He doesn't tolerate mistakes. One wrong move, and he pulls the trigger. He doesn't give second chances to anyone who betrays him. I also heard he once killed a man who took a flower from his garden." "He killed a man because of a flower?" Carden asked. "Yes, he did. He's very possessive of his property. The only person he fears is a priest. He believes their prayers bring redemption to him. Even if he decides to kill the whole city, he believes that once he goes for confession, his sins are forgiven." "Wow... that's crazy for him to believe," Carden said. "Yes, it's crazy. Sins can't be forgiven just because of confession," the man replied. "C'mon, man... let's go," Carlos said sharply, standing near the exit, trying hard not to lose his temper over the price Carden paid. Carden looked at him, then turned to thank the gallery man once more for the information and even tipped him generously. He walked up to the angry Carlos, smiling like someone who just won a lottery. "Let's go, man," he said, boarding a taxi. ⸻ In the Taxi Carlos finally broke the silence. "Why the hell did you buy this portrait for a hundred thousand bucks? Seems you don't know what to do with your money. Why don't you give me some?!" Carden stayed silent, holding the portrait and smiling happily. "I'm talking to you, man!" Carlos said again. Carden finally spoke. "You think I'd do something this insane without a proper reason?" He kept smiling, eyes still on the portrait. Then he turned slowly to Carlos. "I'm going to have a peaceful night's sleep from now on... because I found her." His eyes went back to the portrait. "She's the lady in my dream." Carlos shifted backward in shock. "You said what?!"

"I don't get you, bro. Carlos asked. The goddess in this portrait is the girl in your dream? Really?" The taxi halted to a stop. Carden reached into his pocket, pulled out a few bills, and handed them to the driver. They stepped out and walked into their apartment. Carden was still smiling, and Carlos continued questioning him all the way to their room, but Carden said nothing-just smiled like a man possessed. Inside their room. "Come on, man, say something," Carlos finally insisted. "Yes, she is," Carden said, turning to him.

"Do you think I'd spend a hundred thousand dollars on a painting without a good reason?" His eyes drifted back to the portrait immediately. The painting showed a girl in a white nightgown standing beside a window, as if waiting for someone-waiting for a savior. Her room looked luxurious, yet she seemed pale and unhappy, even though her skin glowed like moonlight touching the sea. "The moment I saw the portrait, I remembered the dreams," Carden continued. "It shocked me. She's real. She looks exactly like the woman who's been haunting my sleep. A goddess... trapped. I didn't pay that money just for the painting. I did it because I need information about her. And from what the gallery man said, she's a lady in distress." Carlos sighed heavily. "Well, it's your money. I believe you know what you're doing. At least now you won't be dealing with those nightmares anymore. Whatever you decide, bro, I'm here to support you." Carden smiled. "Thanks, man. Really." "You're welcome. But how do you plan to reach her? What's the next move?" Carlos asked. Carden exhaled. "I don't know. The owner of this lady seems powerful. Dangerous. According to the gallery guy, he has men everywhere." "Did he tell you where the man lives?" Carlos asked. "Yes. A mansion in the heart of Sicily. He lives there with her. The place is heavily guarded. He doesn't let her near anyone. And if a man touches her, he calls a priest to pray for her. He thinks her innocence is the reason her portraits sell for so much. He kills anyone who gets close-even someone who picks a flower from his garden. The only person he fears is the priest." "Hmm... this man sounds scary. Trust me," Carlos muttered. "He is. But I need to know what this lady wants... why she keeps invading my dreams," Carden said firmly. "You're right. And you said the only person he fears is a priest?" Carlos asked slowly. "Yeah..." Carden said, looking at him. Then his eyes widened. "No. No way. Don't say it." "That's the only way you can get close to her," Carlos replied with a straight face. "You have to pretend to be a priest. Otherwise, you'll have to sneak in-and that's suicide. I don't want to lose you." Carden stared at the portrait, deep in thought. Then he turned back. "You're right... So how do I become the priest that visits the mansion?" "Leave that to me," Carlos smirked. "But first, you need to learn how to act like a priest without blowing your cover." "I love you, man," Carden said gratefully. "You're welcome," Carlos replied, grinning. "Let me get us something to drink. We need to celebrate, because soon you'll be Father Carden." He joked as he walked to the mini-bar to pour some whiskey. Carden laughed. "Soon," he said, holding the portrait like it was the most precious thing in the world. Later That Night – The Dream Carden saw the woman again-standing miles away, reaching out to him. "Come quickly... come get me," her voice echoed, faint but urgent. He tried to speak, but he couldn't hear his own voice. She drifted farther away. "You're close now... please come," she whispered. He reached for her, but she kept slipping from his grasp. He gasped and opened his eyes. "Another dream..." he whispered, still lying on the bed. "Now I know I'm close. I have her portrait." He turned to look at it hanging beside his bed. "Hold on, stranger... I'm coming," he said softly, before closing his eyes again. In the Mansion A girl sat on a stool facing a mirror, slowly combing her curly hair. Her skin was pale and glowing, her lips red like strawberries. Her blue eyes stared back at her reflection-perfect face, perfect figure. Her portraits hung everywhere in the room. Luxury surrounded her, but she looked anything but happy. "Anna," a man's voice called. She turned to look at him. "The priest is here. You shouldn't have let him hold your hands. I told you to stay away from Mr. Douglas, and now you let him touch you. You need the priest to pray for you, You look unclean to me". She turned toward him crying,"I don't want to be here. Let me go back to my parents. At least it was peaceful there..." "Anna, don't be ungrateful, this beauty of yours is not meant for the countryside," the tall man said, walking toward her slowly. His hair was white, and everything about him screamed wealth and authority. He held a cold silver walking stick. His face hardened. "Don't be ungrateful, dear. Uncle knows what's best for you, at least you are helping your parents to live a better life," he said calmly, but his eyes carried warning. "Don't keep the priest waiting my dear." Anna stood reluctantly, tears welling in her eyes. "Okay, Uncle Arnold..." "And clean your eyes," he added sharply. "Not a word of this to anyone. Not even the priest. Or your parents will pay with their lives." She nodded quickly and walked out, wiping her tears. Arnold stayed behind, staring at his reflection with pride and cruelty. "No one disobeys me," he murmured, smiling wickedly.