Scene 2

  “Even if I wish for it, that feeling won’t disappear. It’s the payment for staining the existence of someone beautiful.”

  “Even so the more I have to keep going, I don’t have to seem weak, this way I won’t be pitied, and other’s won’t be stained by my inferiority.”

  I stand up from the darkness of the alley and walk slowly, with my hands inside the pockets of my jacket. “This is stupid. I should repent, not make myself comfortable.”

  But I am too much of a coward to do so, I am unable to torture my hands with the cold of the winter that is about to end, and spring will soon arrive.

  …

  The walk is lengthy, roughly 10 kilometres walked slowly by foot in this cold of about 3 degrees Celsius. I had to reach the train station to get back home.

  I take the train and walk 20 minutes on foot from the station to reach my house, residence of my family.

  Taking out my keys and opening the door I expect the same mundane family, the same normal family that I always had by my side, sitting at the table, eating and watching TV in silence. I told them beforehand how and why I was late.

  I lied about going out with friends and sleeping over in a motel at the end of the day.

  I sit at the table in silence with a tired face, I ate the soup in front of me in silence. I didn’t have to wait long before a question arose from across the small table, my mom, was speaking to me.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Her round face was curious, as the loving mom of someone that often stays locked up in his room she gets curious and refreshed whenever I do something else.

  “-So, how was at your friend? Did you drink?” the question had an air of curiosity and slyness behind it, she knows damn well I am 18 and can drink. But the situation is different, I drank like an alcoholic, went clubbing, and fucked a woman that I do not know out of pure coincidence.

  And I can’t say it was luck, having me feel this shitty from it. But I replied quick, I didn’t hesitate in my conversation with her. This way, she won’t suspect anything.

  “-Yeah, I drank quite a bunch, I still feel the hangover a bit.” was my reply.

  “-Then I expect you will learn and drink less next time, right?” she asked, smiling. That was no question, it was her way of saying I shouldn’t do it too often, for my own health.

  “-Right.”

  “-Are you still going to the climbing gym?” back on her questioning.

  “-Yeah.”

  My replies tend to become blander the less interested and tired I become, in this scenario I really wanted to just eat my food and quickly head into my bed and take a power nap. And so I did. I cried myself to sleep because of some depressing thoughts I had.

  After a 2 hour nap I wake up, and slowly make my way to the bathroom. After I come out of it though, now feeling refreshed after peeing all of that alcohol out of my body I get greeted by my mom which was waiting at the door with a message for me.

  “-Get to sleep early to today, we will go to the church tomorrow.” was her message.

  I nodded a bit in silence, thinking on how to phrase my words to reply to her. After a few seconds I give my only question.

  “-Even if I don’t believe in God?”

  “-Even if you don’t believe in God.”

  That was the end of the day, knowing damn well that the moment I will enter that church my existence will be a liar, deceiver, or even just a masked clown to many. To enter a church as an Atheist might not be much, but the moment I will start making a cross with my hands I know that this soul of mine will be doomed with a strong sense of insecurity.

  …

  I wake up, I eat, I dress up simply as if I would go to a supermarket for groceries, and stand silently to whole 30 minute drive to the church that I so fear I won’t be able to repent from what is about to happen.

  The car stops, the place is rather simple, not many decorations, not an aesthetic church either. Just a plain building with a small cross on top.

  Walking to the door was fine. Grabbing the door’s handle was fine. Pulling the handle downwards was fine. Pulling the door towards me was fine. The door was open and that is great.

  My first step inside was filled with guilt. It was the guilt for deceiving the Christians around me.

  My second step was filled with insecurity. It was the insecurity of being worthy of staying inside, of guarding myself of the cold from the cool morning air.

  My third step was filled with dread. I do not want to be here. I do not want to deceive these people. I do not want to show myself in a place like this ever again.

  …

  The next steps were empty of emotion. I shut down myself to not hurt this body of a monster in front of my family. God did not exist in this church as god exists for humans, and I can’t possibly be human.