The Ill-fated Lovers

Chapter 9

My father was still unconscious in the hospital when we went to visit him. Ben drove us back to New York that afternoon so that I could make my session Sunday morning.

What was the point of the therapy when nothing seemed to be helping. Everything just got worst. Seeing faces so clearly, smelling rust and salt in my dreams.

I knew exactly what I was smelling. That potent stench could only be blood.

My senses in my dream state enhanced. I could feel the temperature of the places in my dream. I could feel the blood soaking through my clothes and drying on my skin. I could feel the excruciating pain of my fresh wounds burning but the most unbearable pain was the emotional pain of watching the life leave Nick's eyes night after night.

Therapy couldn't help me. If it could I'd be getting better and not worst. I tried everything. Science was not going to help me but maybe religion could and that was the reason why I wanted to go back to the city.

I wanted to feel that inner relief I felt a week ago when I sat in that cathedral. I didn't know how to tell Ben I wanted to go to Church. Ben was a Christian. I remembered his mother taking him and Brandon to Church Christmas mornings.

Mrs. Evan's wanted to take me along with them a few times but my father refused being a man of science. I never really asked my father why he didn't believe in divinity but I knew there had to be a story behind it.

How could he not been even a little curious. My siblings and I knew better than to push for answers. My father is a man of great patience but everyone had their breaking point and I could feel his patience running thin when we asked questions he couldn't answer.

He couldn't hide his emotions well it showed on his face when he was deeply irritated and it also showed when he was extremely happy.

He raised us to be practical. People are not perfect and they need to stop making excuses for their imperfections, his words not mine. People need to stop blaming the devil for misdeeds. Maybe the idealism of a forgiving God is what gives monsters hope of salvation after their so-called sins.

He became a different man when it came to the topic of divinity. I wondered if it was because of his childhood. My mother once told me and my siblings that he had a rough childhood. He never spoke of his childhood. I wasn't even sure if my grandparents were alive.

Due to this being a touchy subject with him it resulted in me not knowing much about divinity. But I was willing to learn. To understand it if that was possible. I promised myself on countless occasions of desperation that I would give my soul to have peace.

And I would give it to religion first. I knew my family wouldn't stand by this decision. Seeking miracles is a fool's errand! I smiled. I could hear my father's voice in my head.

I loved my parents but they couldn't find out about this. Especially my father. He couldn't get all riled up in his condition. I'd have to go in this without my family's support.

"Huh, who knew a bowl of cheerios could be so fascinating," Ben said bringing me out of my thoughts. "Val spit it out," he smiled and I shook my head. He knew me too well.

"I want to tell you something but it's going to sound weird but I need you to trust me," I started and he sat front in his chair.

"Anything Val."

"Ben science, I mean therapy and medicine can't fix my problem. All the tests I went for said there was nothing wrong with me mentally. I have stress because of these nightmares. But what if science is not the answer to my recovery but religion is?" I questioned and Ben looked at me considering my words.