Chapter Two

Inner Turmoil

“God, why am I...the way that I am?”

Chrissy spoke quietly, though there was no one nearby to hear her in the little chapel. She had started going here a few months ago, after the services ended at the other, much larger church her family attended. This was a small place, barely enough room for maybe a hundred people in the pews.

The altar was a simple space with an unadorned wooden cross hanging behind it. This place always felt a little more personal to her, as if someone were actually listening to her instead of her voice getting lost among hundreds and thousands of others. She seldom came away with any true sense of fulfillment, but at least it was peaceful here.

She smoothed the front of her teal Sunday dress and tried again. It wasn’t the fanciest thing she had in her wardrobe, but she thought it looked rather nice with the emerald jacket she was wearing and the green dress shoes she had on. When choosing her outfits, Chrissy usually lived by one rule: Complementary colors.

She was just distracting herself. Thinking about clothes certainly wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

She tried again.

“I....”

The words just wouldn’t come.

Voicing her problem out loud felt too much like admitting, even if only to herself and the Almighty, that she actually had a problem, which was foolish. She knew it was.

God already knew what her problem was and she was getting so tired of fighting with herself, but she just couldn’t say it, or even think it. This...thing was right there, staring her in the face and more obvious with every passing day, but she couldn’t face it. How could she? If she could’ve changed the way she was born in order to be someone else, she would’ve in a heartbeat, but this was her cross to bear.

It was like some horrible character flaw or birth defect. She could no more change the way she was then she could somehow learn how to fly by flapping her arms and wishing really hard for it.

Thinking about it in those terms did nothing for her peace of mind.

Of course, there were others who didn’t think about these things the way she did, but down that way lay a stubborn refusal to accept the trials and tribulations sent by the Almighty to test his children’s faith. If God had made her this way, then she was this way and arguing otherwise was setting your own will against God’s, which was something that never ended well. She believed that God had a plan for everyone and everything, so this must be a part of it somehow. She just had to figure out what it was she was going to do...and how to accept this...and how to beg for forgiveness for something she had no control over.

It was all much easier said than done.

So she sat there in silence, hands clasped in front of her, her lips locking away the words she couldn’t say and her thoughts chasing themselves in useless circles in her head. First and foremost amongst these thoughts was something she really didn’t want to think about at all.

Anna was right.

The irony was not lost on her. Oh, how she had denied it bitterly, vehemently refusing to admit to even the possibility of it to Anna or to herself for months, but there was no ignoring it any longer. Like a beast, once woken, that could never be put to sleep again, it prowled around restlessly inside her head, demanding her attention. Look. It said. Look and see. For most of her life she’d lived in quiet ignorance of the beast and its foul urgings, wondering why other people and the Bible seemed to make such a big deal of the issue, but now she felt like a spring wound so tightly she might simply snap at any moment.

She chewed over the problem, turning it this way and that in her mind, worrying at it until her thoughts ran themselves ragged. She reluctantly concluded that she was going to have to tell someone or go crazy, but who? Who could she possibly tell? Her family would never understand so that was out. Anna? The idea was laughable. She hadn’t seen Anna in over six months. And besides, admitting this to her would be like admitting she was wrong, which she absolutely, positively, refused to do.

Anna might be right about me, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about her.

If Anna wanted to talk to her, she still knew her phone number and hopefully she still had enough digits to operate that stupidly expensive smartphone she hated, so that meant that her best friend still didn’t want to get back in touch with her.

She grimaced. After some of the things Anna had said to her the last time they’d seen each other face to face, she could just go stick her head in a rain barrel, for all Chrissy cared. Unfortunately, that meant that she had no one to confide in at the moment.

Well, no one except God.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she wasn’t aware of the pastor’s approach until he was standing next to her.

“It’s going to be all right, you know.”

Father Howard was a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and more gray than black at his temples. He had kind eyes and carried a leather-bound King James Bible in one hand.

“Do you mind if I sit?” he asked politely.

Chrissy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The idea that a pastor would ask permission before taking a seat in his own church abruptly struck her as more than a little absurd and she had to fight down the urge to giggle at it.

He took a seat next to her on the pew, his black robes rustling. She hadn’t talked to him before, contenting herself with sitting in the back during evening services, listening to the reassuring quality of his voice. She’d heard the message before at least a thousand times, but they didn’t call it the ‘good news’ for nothing. The familiarity was a soothing balm for her nerves in a world that for her had somehow gone badly askew and that wasn’t even touching upon the issue of that other place her family went to.

She tried to avoid thinking about that place as much as possible.

Father Howard’s congregation was mostly older folks, gray haired pensioners with their canes and walkers, with the occasional bored grandkid fidgeting in their seats until the service ended. The regulars looked at her sometimes, the girl in the nice dresses who sat in the back by herself, but mostly they left her alone, which was what she wanted.

”What do you mean; it’s going to be all right?” Unbidden, the words just popped out before she could snatch them back.

Father Howard smiled at her. “There are times, when I can’t pray either.”

“What?” She stared at him, confusion momentarily driving everything else out of her head.

“I see you come in here regularly, but you’ve never approached anyone. I hope you’ll forgive me if I overstep myself, but you seem troubled. I had the idea that you must have something, some weighty issue that you’re struggling with that you can’t find the answer to anywhere else. I was hoping I could help in some small way if you’ll let me.”

Chrissy laughed.

“And you think the problem is that I can’t pray?”

Well, she was having some difficulty with that, to tell the truth. It was kind of hard not to resent the creator of all things for saddling you with an uncomfortable issue you had very little control over, but some people were born with much worse, right? She’d just have to cope somehow.

“No. That is only a symptom of the problem. You have so much going on up here,” he pointed at her forehead. “That you have no room for anything else. When that happens, even reading the Bible doesn’t help. It just adds more.”

She had to bite back a sarcastic reply. More and more she found herself reacting to things like Anna used to, right before they’d gone their separate ways. Was this how her friend felt all the time after her father left? Angry at the world and everyone in it?

At least I’m not spitting curses with every other breath. Mom would take my computer and sell it if I did that though.

It was an older machine, but it was hers and she didn’t want to lose it.

Her mother had very strict rules about swearing, along with a whole laundry list of other FORBIDDEN ACTIVITIES that she expected everyone in her household to take heed of. The consequences for ignoring her rules were quite dire.

Her mouth twisted bitterly. “There are an awful lot of do nots in the Bible, Father.”

Damnation.

She hadn’t meant to say that either. She looked at him in amazement when he nodded.

“Those are often the most difficult issues to deal with. You are a believer?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you accepted Jesus Christ into your heart as your savior?”

“Yes.” she replied without hesitation. Inwardly however, a rebellious voice spoke up in the privacy of her mind.

How many times are they going to ask me that? If I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do, shouldn’t this be getting easier instead of more difficult?

She ignored the urge to give voice to her inner feelings with some difficulty. What would be the point of it? He wouldn’t understand.

“I’m glad to hear it. It’s easy to think sometimes that all of our problems will go away if we give them over to God. That handing things up into His hands will somehow make them disappear.” He gazed fondly down at the Bible he held.

“Unfortunately, life is not so easy. So, what can you tell me about your problem? Perhaps I can help shed some light on it.”

“Um.” Chrissy squirmed uncomfortably. “It’s...I have...uh....” She looked away, feeling her face growing hot.

“It’s really more of a personal problem, Father.”

There was a discreet silence. “I see.”

Nope. I am never going to talk about this, EVER. I can just move away from everyone else. Then it won’t be an issue.

“Is there anything that you do feel comfortable talking about?” he asked her gently.

“Actually, there is.” She latched onto the other issue that was bothering her with something akin to relief. Much less awkward to talk about, though she had other, more pressing reasons for mentioning it. Father Howard was right. She needed somebody to talk to and even if he couldn’t help her with one thing, maybe he could help her with the other.

 “There’s this other church.” she said, carefully picking and choosing her words. “My whole family goes there in the morning and it feels....”

“Go on.” he said, waiting patiently.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I promise I will listen with an open mind.”

She looked at him doubtfully.

He raised a hand. “Scouts honor.”

Chrissy bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Ok, here goes nothing I guess.

“It feels evil.” she whispered.

Encouraged by his silence, she went on.

“They go on and on about hellfire and damnation, worse than anyone else I’ve ever heard and they constantly preach about blood. I mean, that’s not all they talk about, right? But it seems to make sense at the time. They quote Old Testament scripture about burnt offerings and peace offerings and guilt offerings and then at the end, there’s communion but it’s all so strange, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Its scripture, but it’s all twisted around, you understand? And it’s just so...so frigging creepy the way he goes on and on about it and everyone just stares at him without saying anything like he’s some kind of cult leader.”

She clamped her mouth shut before she could continue. That wasn’t quite the worst of it, but how could she say the rest? How could she explain that she felt the other preacher’s eyes on her, only her, when she was standing in the middle of a crowd of hundreds? She was being paranoid. She had to be. He was staring at all of them, not just her.

The preacher’s expression was troubled and his gaze was far away. “Where is this place?”

“Why? Do you think you can do something about them?”

He started to shake his head and then sighed. “If what you say is true, there are some...friends of mine that I may be able to get a hold of. They can look into this other church and hopefully handle any problems that arise.”

Chrissy bit her lip and told him the address. “It’s called the Scarlet House of God. There’s no name on the billboard or on the building. I think they just opened up a few months ago. Like I said, it’s really creepy.”

I wonder who he’s going to call? The FBI maybe? I think they’re the ones who deal with cults when they pop up like this.

Her mother was going to throw seven kinds of fits if they shut the place down, but that was just tough. Every day she went on longer and longer about sinners and damnation and sacrifice. For a woman who reminded her children on a daily basis about their faith and obligations as Christians to the godless heathens that ran the world, it was becoming absolutely intolerable, even by her standards. Her mother’s prayers at the dinner table now resembled long, rambling sermons delivered almost verbatim from that other preacher’s mouth.

What was his name again? Father Durien. That was it. Strange name, strange guy. Come to think of it, she didn’t even know if that was his first name or his last.

Now that they were in safer, albeit far more creepy territory, she started to relax.

As if he could sense what she was thinking, Father Howard fixed her with a penetrating look.

“This other church, it has nothing to do with what you’re struggling with.”

He made it a statement rather than a question, but he was obviously waiting for an answer from her.

She fidgeted under his gaze.

“No, but it brought me here.” she went on in a rush, avoiding his gaze. “You talk about a loving God and...and I feel more peaceful here.”

Of course peaceful wasn’t really the word she wanted to say. The actual word was safe. She felt safe from her mother’s overbearing, judgmental nature and her brand new thousand-yard stare that could pin you to the wall and keep you there until she’d gotten what she wanted out of you. Safe from that other church and its creepy pastor with his pale white skin and mesmerizing voice. Safe from the idea that there was something he wanted from her, that he was singling her out for some reason. She didn’t know what he could possibly want and she didn’t want to find out, but the idea was persistent enough that she was having serious difficulty shaking it off as mere paranoia.

Here she felt safe from the feeling that she was being watched, unseen eyes staring at her on her way home from her summer job at the library or church. It was almost as if an invisible presence were following her in the stillness when she was certain she was otherwise completely alone.

Invisible, but somehow malevolent. Watching. Waiting. For what she did not know.

She could pray then. Oh, yes. The short, fervent prayers of a child alone in the dark, while shooting glances over her shoulder every few steps and moving as fast as she dared to go. Knowing, knowing that if she broke into a run, something would be on top of her like a predatory beast pouncing on a small animal. A quick surge of savage strength, flashing fangs and sharp outcry, then silence, broken only by the crunch, crunch, crunch...and then it would be all over.

She tried to convince herself it was nothing, tried all the things you told yourself when you were on your way home in the dark at night, but at night it never went away until she got home, or arrived at this church.

She was safe here. Sanctuary.

Safe enough to contemplate her other problem.

She sighed heavily.

“What I said earlier about too much going on up here.” Father Howard said, tapping a finger against one graying temple. “If you can’t pray about it and don’t want to talk, there’s only one thing you can do.”

She leaned forward, curious despite herself. “What is it?” she asked.

“Try to quiet every voice in your head. Empty your mind. Think of nothing at all, or if you can’t manage that, try to imagine waves breaking against a beach...the steady rhythm of the surf until everything is quiet. Then you can listen. The voice that speaks to you in the stillness is what God wants you to hear. After that, you will be more willing to talk and pray about your problem. It may not go away, but at least you will be able to face it.”

Chrissy tilted her head slightly, pondering the idea. “That sounds like meditation.” she said.

He stood. “The two are not dissimilar. Now, I must get ready for the next service. If you ever need to talk, you can usually find me here, or a member of the congregation can point you in the right direction. I will pray for you if you like.”

He held out his hand and Chrissy took it, smiling.

“Thank you, Father. I’d like that very much. And...my name is Chrissy.” She suddenly felt a bit awkward that she hadn’t already introduced herself.

“A pleasure to meet you.” He returned her smile with one of his own. “Though I believe you already know my name.”

They both laughed at that.

His expression turned serious. “This other church...I would advise you against going back there, if you can possibly avoid it. It may just be a feeling, but....”

How am I supposed to manage that?

“I’ll try.” she promised him.

 “Good. I look forward to seeing you again, Chrissy. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with your thoughts and with the Lord, may he continue to watch over us all.”

She watched him go, his stately progression unhurried and his black robes rustling as he walked up the center aisle, rows of empty pews on either side of him. Soon they would be full of people again and he would be up behind the altar. They would sing and pray.

It felt right.

Well that was interesting.

The whole time, he’d talked to her seriously, never once dismissing her problems out of hand because of her age or calling her ‘child’ like some priests did. And she did feel better having voiced her concerns about that creepy place her family attended, so that was a bonus.

Alright. Enough. Time to focus. I can do this, I know I can. Just have to not think about anything I guess? How is that supposed to—right, no thinking. Have to clear my mind.

Taking a deep breath, Chrissy closed her eyes and tried to think about nothing. This proved quite a bit harder than she had anticipated. The problem was, even if she imagined an endlessly empty space, things kept intruding in on it. Thoughts of her family led to thoughts of her mother, thoughts about high school and her old friend Anna, back when they still were friends.

This inevitably led to thoughts of the prolonged, bitter arguments between them and the end of their long friendship. It made her glum, thinking about it, and that was no good either. So she changed tactics, imagining her head like a bucket full of all these thoughts and frustrations and fears and simply pouring all of it out...but that still left the bucket, shining metallically with her so focused on it she couldn’t see or think about anything else.

This is ridiculous! How do you just not think about things?

She supposed it was sort of like right before you fell asleep. That warm fuzzy feeling right before you drifted off. Trying to imagine that just made her sleepy.

Stubbornly, Chrissy refused to give up, focusing everything she had into imagining a beach in summer, the sun shining overhead and waves pounding rhythmically against the sand. She held this for a long while and felt herself slowly relax. It was good here. Quiet. Safe. No judgments and no unseen eyes. Nothing but the sand and the surf and the sun.

She had always loved the beach.

She began to remove the imagery piece by piece. First the sun, then the sand, and then the waves themselves until there was only the sound of the tide, washing away all thought.

Finally, even that too was still.

In the stillness, she came face to face with...herself. Herself and all of her difficulties and frustrations and pain, all the joy and sadness in her life rising up for her to look at and examine one by one, before she was able to accept them and set them aside. Self deception was impossible here. What would be the point of it? She continued until there was only one thing left for her to face. She couldn’t change it, couldn’t wish it away or deny it any longer. She would have to accept it or remain as she was, bitterly divided against herself.

Reluctantly, more reluctantly than she had ever done anything in her life, she made her decision.

“There you are.”

The voice cut through Chrissy’s mental clarity at the same time as a hand clamped down on her shoulder.