The savior of souls
Jack, a dark and sinister being whose terrifying face was warped by an old scar, waited in the pouring rain. His mind, troubled by painful memories of his violent childhood, tormented him. He was standing motionless near a telephone booth on Boulevard Hamel in Quebec. Lightning ripped through the sky, reminding him of his mission, a promise of old that he now wanted to keep. He knew that the road to redemption would be strewn with pitfalls, but nothing could stop him. He had to do it, not only for himself, but to regain inner peace. To save those people who had sold their souls to the devil, he was going to become the savior of souls. He walked into the phone booth and dialed the pimp's number. He needed a girl, a very young girl.
Following Operation Scorpion in Quebec in January 2002, the draft of this novel was taking shape in my disturbed mind.
On that cold September night, the rain was beating down heavily on the sleeping town making the weather even more gloomy than it actually was. A suspicious-looking man walked slowly through the parking lot of a seedy motel on Boulevard Hamel in Quebec City. He inevitably made his way to a telephone booth on the side of the deserted street. Passing under a lamppost, he turned his head, revealing his dismal face marked by a scar on his right cheek. He was wearing jeans and a black waterproof coat with a hood that completely covered his head. Beneath his long, frowning brows hid intimidating dark eyes that could stun you with a single glance. A smirk formed on her gaunt lips and a dimple appeared on her hollow cheek. The nebulous light from his scar had drawn a treacherous smile on the face of this sinister man. He pushed open the glass cabin door while lowering his head. He picked up the receiver and inserted some change into the device. Then, holding the receiver over his shoulder, he dug deeper into his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it. He was shaking. His hand was shaking and it was not the rain that froze his blood, it was what he was about to do. He took a deep breath, hesitated, and hung up. The sound of coins falling from the phone mingled with that of the rain hitting the glass cabin. He put both hands on either side of the phone and, leaning on the back window, tilted his head while breathing louder and louder. " OK, OK, everything is going to be fine. You just have to phone and the rest will be fine. Everything will be alright…