The Sinister Saint

A/N: Disclaimer: The Sinister Saint contains explicit content and has very triggering topics such as gore, violence, strong languages, and violent sexual acts. If you are easily offended, PLEASE DO NOT READ.

Also, as an author, I DO NOT, and I repeat, I DO NOT condone or glorify any of the topics that I have written about. This story was written to take a darker turn than the stories that I have written before. This is my first time writing a story that is sinister and this is the way that I wanted to write it.

With that being said, thank you for reading the disclaimer and continue on with the story.

My name is Apollo Wilkins, formally known as Paul J. Wilkins III and this is my story.

Age 16

A sixteen year old Detroit native growing up in the roughest area in town, becomes adapted to seeing violence on the streets. Gangbangers constantly running from the police, escorts working all hours of the night, and murder by nightfall. That was what I was used to. Walking past the cornerstore to see my friend, Alex, getting beaten up by the gangsters from across town for his fresh pair of Jordans. Their leader, Mike, was badass with the way he carried himself. Stuck his nose up at the police and would constantly be heard saying, "Fuck the police!"

Alex was one of my best friends and when he was badly beaten by the gangsters of our town, I could not have saved him in time. He died right in my arms and there was nothing I could do but leave him there in cold blood and ran with the rest of the gang when we saw the police lights. I wasn't quite in the gang but being an African American male in the city of Detroit, raises suspicion.

I remember the gang member, I believe his name was Alfonzo, grabbed me by the collar and barked, "I robbed that punk ass bitch for those fuckin' Jordans and they're not even my size. What size do you wear?"

My voice cracked as I retorted, "You fuckin' killed my friend for some shoes that you can't even fit?! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

His hands grappled my tiny neck tighter and harder.

"What the fuck did you just say? You knew that bitch made motherfucker?"

"That was my friend but you didn't have to fuckin' kill him!" I said between breaths.

"You really got some nerve following me and my crew. What's your name?"

"Pa-- Apollo. My name is Apollo."

The gang members behind him cackled.

"Apollo? What kind of fuckin' name is that?"

"I hate my given name so I go by Apollo to piss my parents off."

As we were hiding in a dark alley from the police, Alfonzo's tight grasp softened as he placed me down on my two feet.

"You know what? I like you, kid. How would you like to be in our gang?" Mike asked.

"Mike, you're really going to let this young buck join our gang? He's a fuckin' minor." A gangmember chimed in.

"Did I fuckin' ask for your permission, Robbie?"

"No."

"Then shut your fuckin' trap! I'm talkin' to the fuckin' kid!"

"I-I, I don't know." I stammered.

"He must've not been your friend to begin with because after all, you ran with us like you were apart of our group. So what do you say?"

Before I could even answer, I was interrupted with the sound of my mother's voice...

"Paul Jeremiah Wilkins III, what on Earth are you still doing in bed? We're going to be late for church." My mother, Maya, said while shaking me to wake up.

"My name is Apollo. I don't go by Paul anymore. I wish you would stop calling me that." I replied in a groggy monotone.

"Don't test me this morning, Paul or whoever you want to be today. Get up and get a move on so that we can go to church."

Church. That dreadful place. My father, Rev. Paul J. Wilkins II has been the pastor of Heavenly Father Baptist Church for the past twenty-five years, making my mother the First Lady.

Me? I was just a sixteen year old boy that constantly gets dragged to church every fuckin' Sunday. At our house, there was no Stay At Home Baptist, your time was spent going to the House of God and there was nothing that would prevent you from going.

NOTHING.

As soon as we entered the crowded, stuffy church, my mother and I went to the first pew where we always sat. All of the elders with their button down tea length dresses and church hats fanning theirselves with the paper fans located on the back of every pew. Little two and three year olds running up the aisles and while their parents tried to contain them. Other teenage girls giving me eye contact and then turn away as their cheeks turned rosy pink.

My father, Rev. Paul J. Wilkins II, arrived at the podium in his red, purple, and gold clergy robe.

"Good morning, Brothers & Sisters." My father greeted.

"Good morning, Reverend." The congregation said in unison.

Oh God! This shit is going to take all day. Kill me now, Lord. I thought to myself.

"We are gathered here today to send Praise to The master of divine intervention. Let the church say Amen!"

"Amen!"

I leaned onto the armrest of the pew trying to cover my face but my mother would gently tapped my shoulder and reprimand me to pay attention to my father's sermon.

"Look up at your father. If you weren't up all night, you wouldn't be tired. Don't make me embarrass you in front of all these church folk." She whispered.

An elderly woman cleared her throat and glared at my mother.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Claudine. Just talking to my son."

I had to sit up, keep quiet, and pay attention to what my father was saying. I was in and out of consciousness and everything went through one ear and out the other. Then my father said the unthinkable.

"Brothers & Sisters, my time at Heavenly Father Bapist Church will one day come to an end. In the next ten years or so, I intend on retiring from the church and placing my one and only son, Paul III, to partake in maintaining the church."

The parishioners gasped and my mother gently nodded. My jaw flew open with disbelief. The congregation murmured to each other, leaving them outraged.

Age 28

Last night was such a blur, I've been drinking and snorting cocaine off of an escort's stomach. In fact, me and two escorts got faded and end up having a ménage à trois. They were two sexy escorts working the corner of Gray & 34th Street. I picked them up and brought them back to my apartment. We had a lot of fun with each other, getting high and fuckin' all night long.

I tuckered them out last night, that's for damn sure. They told me their names once or twice, I didn't care more or less other than getting fellatio from both of them and having my way with them in return.

The Latina one was so skilled in her profession that I busted in the first few minutes of her giving me a blowjob. The African American one was high off her ass and allowed me to fuck her in the ass as hard as I liked. Hearing her squeal and moan was like music to my ears.

"Apollo, you're such a fuckin' God! Oh my God!" She moaned.

Deeper and deeper, I penetrated her tight, round ass and pinned her hands around her back like I was putting her under arrest. Her charge? Allowing me to penetrate her dark world while the other massaged my balls with her master tongue as she sat underneath me while playing with her pussy with her fingertips.

My eyes dilated into black orbs as I went deeper and deeper inside of her until I completely blacked out. The escorts finished without me and began to scissoring each other and eating other out.

My head was pounding from the loud music that I was playing. My favorite artist of choice? The Weeknd. His latter work back when he was dark and mysterious. When he talked about drugs and fuckin' bitches.

"Often (NSFW)" was blasting through my surround sound system as loud as I could stand it. I held my head in agony as a sharp pain came across my temples. My nose began to bleed as I wiped it away as it overflowed.

I stumbled to the floor and walked to the bathroom to rinse myself off. I turned on the shower and stepped inside. I began scrubbing myself with a loofah as hard as I could. The sins that I have committed could not be washed away.

I don't live to follow the rules.

I am Apollo.

After my shower, I stumble to the vanity sink and look at my reflection in the mirror. Dilated eyes, bloody nose, and badly bruised flesh stared back at me. I rubbed my nose and needed another fix.

"Apollo, your phone has been ringing off the hook. Do you want me to answer it?" The escort asked.

I turned my neck behind my shoulder.

"Fuck no. Bring my phone in here. I'll answer it." I growled.

"Yes, Daddy."

The gorgeous escort went back in the bedroom and reached for my iPhone 11+ and brought it to me.

"Good girl. Now wait for me so I can pay you and your friend."

"Yes, Daddy."

I had five missed calls and they were all from my mother. What the fuck could she possibly want? I needed to get to the bottom of this. I don't have a reason to call either one of my parents that often and had to look through my contacts to find her number most of the time.

"Yes, Mom? I'm kinda busy at the moment." I said.

"That's not a nice way to greet your mother, Paul." My mother, Maya, said, sternly.

"What have I told you about calling me that? My fuckin' name is Apollo!" I snarled.

"Paul Jeremiah Wilkins III! You do not use that tone of voice or curse words at me, do you hear me?"

I rolled my eyes in disgust.

"I'm not twelve years old, Mother. I'm a grown ass man. I'm fuckin' twenty-eight years old."

"You and this devilish mouth of yours, I tell ya."

You wouldn't want to know where this devilish mouth has been, Mother. It's been on a couple of escorts and occasionally, a guy from time to time. I'm not bisexual by any means but I've been high off my ass and have fucked anything that moved. I said to myself.

"Why are you calling, Mother? Like I said, I'm kinda busy right now."

I walked out of bathroom and into the bedroom where I noticed the escorts making out with each other. I went to my safe and pulled out a wad of money. I took out two stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills. I unstrapped the bands from around the bills and made it rain on the bed like they were strippers. They scoured to pick up as many loose bills as they could. I put my finger to my lips to silence them.

"Your father and I would like to cordially invite you to a congregation brunch down at the church. It would really mean a lot if you would come down and show your face. A lot of the parishoners have been asking about you."

I paused.

"I'll pass. Thanks for the offer though." I replied.

"Paul, please. I'm not asking you to come back to the church, I'm just simply asking you to come join us for brunch. That is it. Yes, I may have dragged you to the church when you were younger but you're a grown man now. Please, don't disappoint us. Say you'll be there." She explained.

I let out a sigh.

"Damnit, Mother. I'll be there. Only for a few minutes. Don't get your hopes up. I'm not there so you can introduce me to the choir, or a woman that you want to secretly set me up with, or anything like that. You got that?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! This means a lot to me and will mean a lot to your father. The brunch starts in another hour. We can't wait to see you."

"Bet."

I hung up the phone.

"Ladies, I believe that your services have been fulfilled and you've had your proper payment. Please feel free to go back to your post and we'll do this again some time. I have somewhere to be in the next hour."

The escorts rose from the bed after gathering all of their cold hard cash.

"We'll see you next time, Daddy." The Latina escort said, flirtaciously.

The escorts left the apartment, leaving me with a massive hard dick. That was a lot of fun.

Now I have to go and be with an overly religious crowd.

KILL ME NOW, LORD!

-Apollo