I stare blankly at the white wall thinking of what to do next. Should I go to confession and spill my guts? Wait what I'm I thinking I could go to prison for this for a lifetime . Maybe I can ask God he'll know what to do but he probably would say, "I don't know I think you should tell the priest then the cops". His cross dangled innocently around his bloody and bruised neck while he was handling the situation. He knew the gates of h*ll opened for him after he was through and the gates to heaven shut with a slam. Hours passed since he was in the shed looking for solutions and tools. The clock struck twelve and midnight came about. Church doors creaked in the dead silence of the night he knelled with guilt. Father Tom was just leaving till he spot Jim on his knees in blood head to toe. He walked over costly and tapped his shoulder, Jim turned frightened to see the priest's face. "Father it isn't my fault they made me" pleaded Jim
"Who child?" asked Father.
"The bloody 7" whispered Jim.
"Well son you know I'll have to call the cops sadly" replied Father. Sirens screamed loudly as they rushed to the little church. Jim didn't resist the cuffs because he knew he was going to heaven for confessing to a priest before the cops. Bars surrounded him covered in guilt and dry blood. Soon after he was put to a shocking death the bloody 7 were caught4 were dead for trying to fight back. Jim's last words were why didn't I ask God first?