(warning: themes of sexual assault)
Forgive me for her rape, God, but she was beautiful.

Her beauty angered me. It was arrogant of her to outshine everyone, us drinking vodka and sweating bullets.

But it wasn't her fault. It was mine. My hand grabbed her arse and pushed her against the cistern. Who else but I?

I saw her at the pub. We were drunk, of course. I'm sure you would understand us creations of Yours fall into patterns. She was the victim and I the predator.

I had to slip something in her drink. She would be too proud to accept otherwise. She woke up midway in the toilet. She screamed.

And I beseech you God for an answer, for who should have answered her call? Vertovich who had his own troubles? Rasmus who smirked at me when she limped out? Mila who said she asked for it, dressed like that? They're as bad as me.

I broke her. Inside I shattered her in a way no man will fix. Not her father, not her brother, not a husband if anyone can tolerate touching her now.

But my Lord, can I be redeemed? I sent her home without harm. I could have snapped her neck like a twig, but I refused because I knew better.

I can be reshaped, my Lord, into a kinder form. I could be a lover, not a rapist. The man I always knew I was - not a despoiler of women's beauty.

Besides, someone had to take her virginity. At least I gave her pleasure through the pain. I could see it in her eyes when we did it. Someone had to teach her the ways of the world - that was my duty.

The Devil punishes the evil, I teach girls to become women. I must have a place in Your world, oh Lord, as cruel and vicious as I may be. It is only natural that I exist.

Lord, I deserve an answer. Every time I have asked and You are silent. I go on polluting beauty without Your guidance and the world grows uglier with each thrust and moan.

If only You would reply and guide me onto the true path.

God, speak, if You think I deserve a second chance.

... My Lord? Answer me, you bastard!