"Dear God,
I am so lost and afraid. All the confusion, lies and rumors… well they all led me here. So I guess you're sort of my last hope. My friends are great, I guess, and they do try to be supportive, but they just don't understand it all. Matthew is the worst. He thinks that I overreact about everything, but what am I supposed to say when he slams me against the shower walls, getting what he wants? The tile so cold on my bare back and me, too drunk to notice. I can't just walk away, leaving it all there, behind locked doors the way he does. I want to blame everything on him, but I know I can't. I want him to take this responsibility that I have encased myself with. In reality, he made me realize that my life is like a broken record. People come in, get what they want, and leave… same way that Dad did with us…Mom and I were left with no explanation or anything…"
Mary was interrupted suddenly, as there was a creak from the mammoth wooden door. The church was empty, but people would soon be coming for the midnight services held ever Christmas. When she realized it was just the wind, Mary's head slowly shifted to the front of the Cathedral. The thirty foot tall stained glass window above the alter depicted Jesus as a shepherd watching his flock of sheep. " All your little sheep that follow. I guess I was just left out of that flock. Who are you to convince these poor, desperate people into believing in you? What have you ever done for us?" The sunlight cast water color splashes, like a million rainbows all knotted up as if they couldn't figure out who was who or where their pot of gold was. The colors reflected off the carefully placed tools resting on the alter. Serving as a border to these utensils of death were two tall red lit candles. They stood in gold holders, the wax slowly running down the sides. In between them were two full bottles of valium, a bottle of whiskey, two carefully sharpened razor blades, a purple chord from the robe of the priest of this thousand year old church. Beside it sat one silver revolver, the bullet placed ever so delicately beside it. The razor blades gleamed in the rays of the sun, giving off a heavenly, warm light.
Mary chuckled to herself, "… Making a little suggestion, huh?" She glanced at the implements of pain as she bit her lip to force the tears back. "You know, hundreds of people walk into this church everyday. They look to you and say ' Oh, God, help me, bless me, protect me…' Shouldn't you tell them. I mean if you are really there why not just let them know now that you won't bless them… you won't protect them… Or maybe it's just us little people down here, the ones that really need your help that you get a laugh out of ignoring. Maybe someone should tell them that their prayers aren't worth the bruises on their knees from kneeling to you. So where were you? Where were you, if you're really up there at all? Where were you when my "father" left us alone? Where were you when mom was drunk out of her mind and decided it was my fault that dear ol' Dad had run? Where were you when your "people" used me as their toy and were you just watching as they threw me away when I broke? WHERE!?"
Mary's screams bounced from stone to stone only to be swallowed by the damp, cool marble walls. The cathedral was gigantic with walls that could fit 6 football fields stacked up on top of one another. Looking up toward the heavens, Mary was lost in the void that was to be the ceiling. She shivered as she thought out loud, "well, I suppose someone has faith… Just how many lives were wasted building these barriers? How much sweat went into constructing just a symbol of someone that might not even exist? For their sake and the rest of us, I hope you are up there somewhere. If it's just us out here… Just this superficial human race, it's sad and depressing. This pathetic society that I've come to know as home…" Mary's eyes rested on the alter once more. She stumbled into the stiff pew and stared aimlessly at the carefully chosen suicidal tools. "I'm sick of this. I am sick of everyone that has let me down and everyone that thinks that they can just use me and throw me away. I am sick of being his ego boost and the pun of all their jokes. All the time you watching, never helping, just viewing it all go on. I can't do this by myself. I can't carry myself through life without a little help from you… I know one thing that I'm good at though.. And I know I can do this one all by myself."
Tears welled up in Mary's eyes as she clutched the smooth wooden bench. She slowly began to remove the old, tattered army jacket that was covered with patches of the usual rebellious teenage bands. Using the pew as a support, Mary clumsily rose and began to stagger to the front of the church. When she got to the alter she reached out and ran her trembling fingers over the murderous instruments. She whispered, " oh God, the confusion of life has left me as a dead weight. I don't know where to go or what to do… I guess I came here in hopes that maybe I would find answers. Maybe find a miracle or two….But, of course, I am alone as always. So, what do I do now, huh? No answer?"
Mary grasped the whiskey and began to speak while she struggled to open the bottle, her sweaty hands preventing her to get a solid grip. "Well, guess I'll just have to help you out." She raised her eyes to the window again, "… don't worry, it's just one less sheep for you to watch, right?" Mary took a swig of whiskey and replaced it on the alter and moved her hand cautiously to the first bottle of valium. With an eerie precisian, Mary prepared each weapon for use, dumping the pills onto the alter and pushing them into a neat pile. She then moved to the razor blades, picking them up and letting the sun bounce off tossing colors carelessly around the church. Mary replaced them and began to tie a noose with the purple chord. Her hand then made its way to the revolver. A little shaky, she loaded the gun with the solitary bullet. Mary cocked it, ready for the shot. Glancing up at the candles, almost burnt down entirely now, she muttered, " …I can't take it anymore. This is the dead end that I always knew was there. Forgive me..?" She took another swig of whiskey and dropped the bottle at her feet, glass shattering, covering the floor. Gasping for air, Mary blew out each candle. The smoke began to rise as she lifted the cold steel of the gun to her temple.
"Amen."
2000,Katrina Rose
