Absolve me Father, for I have sinned

UPDATE AS OF 1/9/16: I'm not sure if this is why, but I haven't been getting much comments on my latest Thief art, and I almost think I might have pissed some fans off with this picture. To be perfectly blunt, (I thought it was obvious, but whatever...) Karras is NOT the one who beat her up. She's reaching out to him, begging to join his order, because she thinks it will save her soul. If you want to know who, then read the story. Like I said, I don't know if this is the case or not, but I have backtracked my gallery extensively, and things really slowed to a crawl in terms of comments on most of my Thief art after this. So, if I offended anyone, I apologize--but, it wasn't really MY fault. You should really ask questions, or read the aforementioned story before you jump to such hasty conclusions.

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I think this one got a tad dark, what with all of Helen's (Heleana before she became a cyborg) bruises and smashed hand. This is the first picture for my new 100 theme challenge, "Introduction". Because this is where she first catches Father Karras after one of his sermons, and begs him to join the order.

For those of you who haven't read my Heleana origin story, "I Can Make You Perfect", let me just say, despite the darker tones in this picture, it matches with the plot. This is definitely not my typical drama, as it does deal with some heavier themes, such as the pictured result of domestic abuse.

But for those of you who are still interested, feel free to check it out here: I CAN MAKE YOU PERFECT
"I can make thee perfect."
That was what he promised me...
    I can recall very little about my life prior to becoming involved in the Mechanist Order. I was of noble birth, a beautiful woman. Graceful and sought after by more than one well-intentioned young man. When my family and I would walk the cobblestone streets of Auledale, it seemed that everyone would stop just to look at us.
    For we were the family that the others marveled at, the one they strove to be. To copy. Trendsetters for our time. What clothes had we deemed 'in', what our favorite go-to leisure activity was, what companies my father had invested his money in as of late.
My father.
    On the surface, he appeared a charismatic, social figure. Quick with a joke or a tip of the hat, he had an unwavering friendliness about him. He would always walk with his arm planted firmly around my mother's waist, and she in turn was far too afraid of him to pull away.
He owned her. Behind that facade