14 At the Church of Jetkins (3)

7th of December

Looking keenly at a girl with long black curly hair in her long white dress seems the most crucial specimen I have examined into. She got my attention in this pool of swarming black dresses and suits of people. She's also different from the rest. She emits a pleasing and heart-warming aura that opposes these people's gloomy and dark surroundings.

As I stilled my gaze on her, minutes pass that she already felt a couple of eyes glancing at her, astonished. Our eyes met, and I can read her every emotion—sadness, fear, and incompleteness.

Behind her gullible personality that arises from the group, a lonely girl from a corner appeared. Sitting, both arms enclosed her knees and crying soundlessly, keeping it from people to hear.

A faint sound of people arguing can be heard simultaneously banging with the father's clock sound striking 12 midnight. As the clock struck, flinch after flinch reacts the lonely girl's body from the broken things, she heard hitting her walls.

Minutes pass, the sound silenced. The cold midnight got calm and quiet. The girl stopped crying and composed herself first before standing. Walking away from the corner.

She walked through her side table where a lampshade and a kitchen knife settled. From the light of the lamp, the glistening blade of the knife flickers her teary eyes.

Her shaking hand grabs the knife, and she saw her reflection from the blade. A girl who cried a lot and suffer too much pain. Until she saw a woman who had a robust and intimidating eye symmetrically followed by her. Now she can no longer felt sadness and fear.

At one swing, she sliced her wrist with the knife. Drops of blood flow to the floor. She swung the blade again, letting it went more profound and cut a vein. Another faucet of blood opened that colored the floor. She continuously did the swing and slice that gave her satisfaction and completion.

After another slice comes another. Blood never stops—satisfaction after satisfaction.

"I'm complete now."

I ran to her side, and hold her wrist and cover it with my palm just to stop the bleeding.

No!

***

“Can you let go of my hand?” Asst. McLinn told me, but I didn’t. Is it hard to relay to the reverend about my presence? I’m his latest patient, and I’m just here to inform him of some things.

“Just this one, Asst. McLinn. I need Reverend Scott to hear me out,” pleading I say. Suppose you call it begging as my expression softens a little. But still, her bold eyes look into mine. Can this nun or what profession she has to obey? Just a minute of talk to her reverend.

“How important is that? More important than meeting and praying solemnly to the Above?” her questions stopped me from whimpering. So Reverend Scott is on his session with the Above? But how? I’m not interested in these holy things so that I didn’t lay my eyes on this matter. “He’s in the middle of offering prayers and doing hours of devotion to the Above. Will you disrupt him?”

I slowly let go of her hand. She then composed herself and sighed. With a blank expression, she checked her wristwatch and looked around.

“No one ever disturbs me in this kind of session and part of the day. You must be thankful that I didn’t shoo you out. I do love my job and I also don’t want Reverend Scott to scold me in flying you out insensibly.”

My forehead creased listening to her. So, I might say that I’m lucky? I think so. Even with her stoic face, she ushered me inside as the scorching heat of the sun dried my skin.

The same situation welcomed my sight: long benches, the high platform, lighted candles on the corners, and the natural spotlight.

Speaking of devotion, do people or devotees, I could say, visit and entered this church? If then, when and what time of that day?

Even sitting here gave me headaches and many queries.

I remembered the conversation we had. That Abella woman added to my sleepless nights. She’s been the person in my nightmares being chased, captured, tortured, murdered, dissected, even pushed to hell. That I nervously can’t imagine happening. Not at my watch. Not at the eye of this church.

Two weeks have already passed since that unknown virus issue at Zales District. Capitol generated vaccines in a less period and now, producing a cure. Only a few people got affected, and the Zales District came back to normal. Students also left the evacuation site one week after what they called isolation. And about the training, they will resume it two weeks from now.

Within those weeks after the isolation, Abella keeps on bugging me by calling and telling her day-to-day stories. At school or the diner, specifically during my breaks, she never missed calling, which I presumed awkward and unnecessary. But she insisted and I let her.

The same situation happens to me. Every night. Hallucinations in daytime. Sceneries. Anxiety eats her system. Depression can’t leave her body. Fear becomes her regular expression leading her not to attend school. I, myself, also experience, but I didn’t mind those. I still go with a day and night routine. Nothing seems to affect me, but I’m devastated, wasted, lost, and feared deep inside.

I’m sure that this is another fight I have to open and surpassed. Reverend Scott stated he couldn’t assure my healing because the enemy is getting stronger and can’t quickly be banished.

That’s why I’m here. Only Reverend Scott can help and understand my condition.