Noel is a con artist, possible sociopath who travels as he pleases. He has an odd quirk of finding who he believes to be pedophiles, seducing them and ultimately driving them to suicide. Noel is not religious, nor is this a religious story.
"I killed no one, Father, let alone murdered them."
Purple nails ran through dyed red hair, pale eyes stared blankly at the priest standing before him. Noel studied the man coldly, diverting from his sweet-natured mask. Noel's pale skin contrasted against the scarlet and burgundy rosary beads that dangled from his fingers. The priest across from him seemed struck by his words.
The priest's skin mirrored the ashen color of the man lying on the floor. But that man was dead, his drying blood splattered across the walls and on Noel's skin. The wretched man's blood forever leaving a stain upon Noel's white shirt as well as the Father's wooden floors. Noel, however, had purged the wretched soul from the world.
"N-noel, something has transpired here. My dear child, you must confess. P-perhaps I can help you."
The Father was trembling. The red headed teenager scoffed, his mood souring by the second. The man trembled as if Noel were the one holding gun, rather than the dead man on the floor. Wretched creature. The Father should be pleased with his work, but alas was the problem the people of the church did not know how to deal with these horrible people. The wretched people of this world. God may forgive; however, why allow the rest of his sheep to suffer with forgiveness when Noel could send them right to the Creator to be judged.
Forgiven or Condemned:
It was not for the people to decide, but their supposed creator. Whether Noel believed in the religion or not, the practice was always welcomed. Now and then, he would branch away from Catholicism, but eventually Noel always wandered back into its ways once more. A lost lamb, with dyed hair and harlot nails, but it was not he who was the true danger. No, divine gift or natural talent, he could see those with unforgivable sin in their hearts and urged them to make the right choice. To meet the creator and leave the rest of them alone.
They, the wretched ones, usually flocked to the church for asylum, to be forgiven of their sin inside of themselves.
Their predatory, sick instincts.
Noel was the better predator as he appeared as prey. Those who preyed on children. Whether they knew it or not, Noel could see it. The one on the floor, he had not known it quite yet, but Noel showed him. And he made the right choice, just as they all did.
Noel made sure they were damned either way. Disgusting. The Almighty might allow them leniency on tendencies never indulged in, but did one have time to ask for forgiveness between the time the bullet left the barrel and the soul left the body?