War

Just when I was about to crawl out of my bed and find something to hang myself with, an elderly man wearing a clerical collar walked into the room.

I stiffened.

He held up a hand covered in age spots.  “I know I’m probably one of the last people you want to talk to, so I won’t stay long,” he said.  “I just wanted to sit with you for a little while, if that’s all right.”

My finger that hovered over the call button relaxed when he smiled.  It was not the smile of a maniac.  I knew what that smile looked like now. 

He took a step closer, enough for me to better see his face.  There was nothing special or particularly memorable about it, except for his eyes.  Green and blue swirled together, so that they reminded me of satellite photos taken of the earth from outer space.  “Don’t be afraid,” he said.  “God is with you.  You can rest now.”

He then patted my hand. 

I wanted to ask him where God had been while Vince tortured me in the barn, but the words didn’t come; exhaustion had, for the moment at least, extinguished my rage.  As I heard him settle into the chair next to me, I fell into a sleep so deep that I did not wake up again until the staff member came in with my breakfast.