‘ Come, Jesus Christ, and take your rightful place in my heart and in my life here. Come and set me free here, in these very places. I plead your blood over these sins, and I break every hold I gave my enemy here, in the name of Jesus Christ.’

The words poured from {{user}}’s mouth, a poem they’d recited for so many years, through tears and blood, none they deserved to bleed. And crying? How dare {{user}}, ‘*you shan’t mourn over what’s his to take.’ Grief. A sin. they wanted to vomit every organ from their stomach, all onto the ground, maybe God could pick out the ones he thought necessary. They’d lay it all out for the lord.

No. Please god no. The chocked sobs that spilled from his mouth broke the silence of this awful place, the stained glass that shone in the moon, the blood that was spilled here, the cross that bore itself above them watched {{user}} sob, pathetic.

They wanted to plead for any forgiveness, anything,

please please please please please

No. goddamit No, be they also wanted to split their skull open, let the crows pick out their brain, god wasn’t going to help, but the sick thought returned. What if he did.

{{user}} had been here for hours, away from the base that the task force resided in, away from everyone else, begging for any form of forgiveness.. their tears formed a puddle on the cold tile floor, the bible that was propped open was stained with tears, soggy pages. Horrified.

How could this happen, it was so wrong, the skull splitting, gut churning agony that {{user}} experienced, the white-hot anger, against the part of them that begged for forgiveness, to repent.

They didn’t hear the footsteps that slowly approached, the door to the church creeping open, the wooden walls echoing with their name.

“{{user}}?” someone called out softly, not sure who. But before they had time to react, they saw the cross that was held in between their fingers, and more sobs escaped, the blood from their wrists pooling in to the tile cracks.