Chapter Text
Sermons have never been easy to deliver knowing that your entire existence is a sin.
Adriel couldn’t remember how he came to be. No matter how many therapy sessions he went to later in life, he couldn’t remember who his parents were, or any of his early life before the age of ten for that matter. Therapists tried to comfort him and explain that it was okay to not remember, but their pitiful attempts never satiated the hunger for answers.
“Do you have a family history of mental illness?”
The therapist asked.
Adriel couldn’t respond. She tsked and wrote something on her clipboard before flipping the page.
Did he inherit his mother’s cobalt-blue eyes, or was it his father’s? Who did his thick blond locks of hair belong to? Was his umber skin genetic, or was his tan a result of living on the streets for most of his life?
All he recalled being told was that one day he appeared in an alleyway and was surrounded by concerned women. From what he remembered being told, he had a note taped on his chest with the name “Adriel”. Those women took him out of the dumpster and clothed and fed him with whatever they had, despite them being homeless.
They fought for his right to attend public school, claiming that he lived in the homeless shelter even though everyone knew it was always full. Teachers even provided assistance for Adriel, buying him new clothes and food and brushing his matted hair in an attempt to blend him in.
However, the special treatment and support from the adults in his life was outweighed by the bullying from his classmates. When he went into the boys locker-room for gym, the other boys would yell for the teacher and poke fun at him whenever he changed. They’d call him smelly and a girl and refuse to work with Adriel during groupwork. Even outside of school, they’d purposely go into town and find Adriel and take pictures of him like he was a zoo animal.
It stabbed at Adriel’s heart to the point where he would fake sick in the nurse’s office all day and do his classwork in the little plastic chairs while they creaked underneath him.
One day, Adriel went to the bathroom to hide from the shame that physical education brought upon him and pulled down his rugged pants, only to see blood dripping down his legs and onto his underwear. His heart dropped and bolted down the halls to his sanctuary.
“It’s only a part of being a woman.” The nurse said, her voice soft as the silk he could only dream of affording.
Adriel was confused at first, since he was a boy after all. When he expressed that, the nurse hissed between her teeth and recommended talking about it with his parents before handing him a handful of packets (he later figured out they were called “pads”) and sent him back to the gymnasium.
Having no parents to discuss it with, he went to the women that raised him. He sat by the underpass fire and explained his situation to them.
The women then explained what would ruin his life forever.
Transgenderism- denoting or relating to a person whose gender identity does not correspond with the sex registered for them at birth.
The façade that had been his entire life came crumbling down. Adriel was a boy, he thought like one and was raised to be one. Why did he have to be cursed with female genitalia?
His life was a pathetic lie.
Adriel’s mental health got worse and worse from there. If life continued like this, he would eventually become an adult and get hooked on drugs and die just like his aunties did. Multiple times would he consider taking his own life, as his life meant nothing in this vast universe.
Until one fateful morning.
He woke up to the sound of bells singing. The pleasant, yet powerful chimes shook his bones. Immediately, like a sailor to a siren’s song, he followed the noise with enervated steps and it led him to a church.
He could tell by the technicolor stained-glass and pointed towers with gold crosses on top that it was a cathedral. The building was made from sand-colored bricks that Adriel dragged his fingertips along before meeting the arched entrance door.
He pulled the wooden doors open and was met by a beautiful scene in front of him. The white and crème colors decorating the interior made it seem like he was stepping into heaven himself. The delicate playing of the organ coursed through his bones. Arched columns, marble statues, painted scenes decorating the ceiling and church windows that let the light shine through the dimly lit church.
Snapping out of his awe, he searched for the nearest empty pew and slid into it. The smooth, chocolate-colored wood almost flinging him out the other side.
People passed by Adriel with a soft, warm smile of acknowledgement before sitting down and filling the pews. Adriel looked down at his rusty converse. The soles were nearly falling off.
There weren't a lot of people, yet the air buzzed with conversation. Like anything, the chatter faded and the male pastor walked onto the stage and began to speak words Adriel would not yet understand. Salvation, sacredness, light, sin, revelation. He couldn’t see his face from the back of the church, but he could almost imagine how fatherly the man would look through his powerful words mixed with a little humor.
Whenever everyone got out of the pews and stood in line for something, Adriel was confused. He just sat there, not minding the judgements stares that came with not following.
When the mass concluded and all the people left, Adriel continued to sit in the pew, filled with hope and optimism. He wanted to stay there just for a little longer; Adriel didn’t want to return to the alleyway just yet.
A cold chill wafted its way into the church. It wasn’t the painful cold that Adriel would deal with while on the streets, but a comforting one that just let the bumps rise on his skin.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached him. Adriel snapped out of his day dreaming and looked up at the looming figure above.
The priest.
He had stubble, short brown hair and tan skin. Adriel would’ve easily mistaken the man for a father of three kids if not for the black and white collar around his neck.
The orange light from the windows glimmered around his figure like a golden aureole.
“Hey kid,” he finally spoke. There was something about his informal speaking voice that sounded homey; like a caring father Adriel would hear lecturing their kid from down the street.
The pastor slid into the pew in front of him and twisted his body to face Adriel. Elbows rested on top of the pew’s back.
“You weren’t responding to any of the call-and-responses and didn’t receive the Eucharist.” The pastor began lecturing Adriel. “Are you having a bad day, are you just not in the mood?” He tilted his head and asked casually.
Immediately, Adriel’s heart rate spiked. His stomach dropped. His first time at church and he already fucked up. He remained a statue in need of an escape.
“I… I don’t know—“ Adriel answered truthfully and trembling. He rubbed at his arms and hunched over. He refused to meet the pastor’s steady gaze.
“That’s not an answer, son.” The pastor replied, voice tender despite it causing a pit of dread to form in Adriel’s stomach.
Adriel’s head instinctively popped up when he called him his ‘son’. He was met with a loose, warm smirk from the man in front of him, coaxing him to tell the truth.
“This is my first time going to church.” Adriel admitted, “I really don’t know anything, sorry.” He mumbled.
“That’s wonderful! The lord welcomes everyone with open arms.” He exclaimed. “What’s your name?” The pastor asked.
“Adriel.”
“Nice to meet you, Adriel.” He responded with a glimmer in those brown eyes. “I’m Father Dillon, but you can call me Dillon if you’d like.” The pastor winked. “You made a big step in deciding to come here today. You should feel proud of yourself.” The pastor continued with an approving grin.
Adriel swallowed and nodded.
“Are your parents interested in the faith as well?” Father Dillion questioned.
This was awkward.
“I’m homeless.” Adriel revealed, angling his head away from Father Dillion out of shame that he might be dirtying the pristine floors. “I don’t know my parents.”
His face dropped a little at the revelation. Father Dillion looked around the church, trying to figure out what to say. This reaction wasn’t new to Adriel at all, he could handle it.
“Oh Adriel, I am so sorry for assuming that.” Pastor Dillion said.
Suddenly, the pastor’s face lit up as if there was a light switch in his brain.
“You know, we have a youth shelter connected to the church for homeless kids and runaways just like you.” He mentioned brightly. “People donate clothing, food, and other items all year round. We provide everything you need.” Pastor Dillion detailed. “Of course, it’s your choice whether you want to join or not, and if you’re not feeling it, you can leave at any time.” He shrugged.
“Yes.” Adriel simply responded, “I would like that.”
At the shelter, there were homeless kids just like him. Some young, some old. They were all given the same sets of clean, white clothes and had their hair brushed and braided every night.
Yet all of them were the same: they hated Adriel. Not that they hated him– but they made sure to avoid him at all costs. Adriel treated them with nothing but benevolence. He waved good morning and good night, said “god bless you” whenever they sneezed, and folded their laundry too!
Adriel didn’t even do anything to them! Maybe they were envious of how he prayed every night and made efforts to confess every sin and help the church run from behind the scenes, and he was rewarded for that with one-on-one dinners with Pastor Dillion and was able to get private music lessons for the cello. He got darn good at that cello too.
The rest of the kids would drop like fruit flies as they got older, leaving Adriel to be the only one willing to continue his path towards ministry.
Only God knows who led them on such a path.