Page 136 of Forgive Me Father
Every time she cracked open that pill bottle, she was giving herself a fleeting respite from feeling anything at all.
Now, with an IV in my arm, my thoughts muddled by the drugs, I understand her despair more intimately. The pain that once consumed her is now silenced by the same drugs coursing through my veins.
This is rock bottom.
And there’s no fucking way out.
Masked women, clearly patrons of the church who might have watched me grow up, move around me. What do they think as they cleanse my skin and prop me up in this chair, forcing me to stay awake while the drugs weigh me down?
Do they see the washed-up girl, marred by the scars of her own tortured mind?
Or do they see the innocent girl who once roamed the church with a grin, too pure to be in this nightmare?
As they apply mascara and pull my hair into a sleek ponytail, I finally see what they see.
Merchandise.
Just as they are to their husbands.
A disposable woman.
One destined to be sold like a goddamn pig.
“I think she’s ready,” One of them whispers, removing the IV from my arm. “They double-dosed her after her little stunt.”
Two women support my weight as they drag me in this tight red dress across the floor. My eyes lock with Hannah’s among the young girls being prepped. The dread in her eyes is palpable.
I thought I would find a way out for both of us.
I thought I’d escape this hellish nightmare.
Now, I question if there will ever be an escape.
Has Roman given up on me?
Did Aiden flee?
God, I hope he did.
I’ve been hearing that name more in my mind.
God.
I was never much of a pray-er before all of this.
It always felt like something I did out of routine, not genuinely trying to reach out to the divine.
Now, all I feel capable of is praying.
Praying for a way out.
Praying for death.
Praying for any release from this torment.
In my past suicidal moments, I thought my pain was enough to make me want to reach the other side.
Now, I know it can always get worse.
