It was a precarious path, but one that Liam knew well. He came up here often, stood at the very edge and let those intrusive thoughts of jumping wash over him like the waves that pounded against the jagged rocks below. He knew his end would not come quite so easily.

He mulled over that answer, the grace that the priest was extending him in allowing him the choice to share or not. By the time Liam spoke again they'd crested to the top of the rocky cliff, the top leveled out, a metal and wood bench -- bleached by salt and wind -- sat vacant as if waiting for the two of them to settle.

"Do you believe in demons? Like in the literal physical sense, not some metaphor or literary device. Do you believe in the existence of infernal creatures?"