No Regrets

Chapter 9

     Father stared at my bloody dress and neck, and stared at my face which slowly turned pale as blood stopped circulating. My eyes were opened still, and horror could be seen emanating, my jaw was at rest and my mouth hung opened. Seeing that I had stopped breathing, he sighed and grabbed me, dragging me to the nearest tree. Setting me down to be sitting on the tree, he took out his phone and when the person on the other end picked up, he told them, "It's done. Tell the workers my child is dead." He hung up the phone and an exasperated sigh came out of his mouth, as if this was an exhausting thing to deal with. Putting his phone away, he paced back and forth, staring at me the whole way through.

     I opened my eyes and was staring at a white wall. I was sitting in a white chair and as I looked around, noticed the whole room I was at was white. The walls, roof, floor, chair, and booths were white. The only thing that was not white were the people and I's clothing and the numbers that were being shown in black on the white television's screens. 

     There were a lot of people sitting down in the chairs, only a few chairs were empty. Some looked around confused, trying to get an answer as to where they were at. Others were smiling slightly and looking around, using their hands to entertain themselves by twirling them around. A few had their eyes closed, their hands laying on their thighs, looking as if they were sleeping comfortably. 

     I looked to the left of me and saw that the booths contained multiple people sitting down behind some glass. They wore all white and worked on their white computers, clicking away the keyboard buttons. They all of spoke to people then directed them to another place which I could not see where and what it was. Once they finished talking to a person, they would call up another person using the television screen.

     When I was done analyzing everything the television spoke and said, "Welcome Margaret Nelson to the Waiting Room. You are number 112,097." Then, it called up a person who was sitting down, "112,089 please go to booth number 3." 

     I stayed sitting down, noticing that no one stood up until their number was called. And now that I sat in silence, I was able to think and be reminded of father. "I will keep you safe. I'm not like dad, I won't hurt you." Is what he would say to me. And for ten years I had trusted him with those words. Yet today he showed it was all a lie. He brutally murdered me, and I felt my whole body become numb and perish. This should have made me mad, enraged, and burst into tears. But I felt nothing, I felt peace. I could only acknowledge the words and feelings I should have felt but could not react on it. Father killed me, he killed me with a knife, on my birthday. On my sixteenth birthday, the happiest day of my life, and he killed me on that day, my brain raced through these thoughts and suddenly slowed down. It slowed down when it began to think about mother. How would mom react to finding out I was dead? Does she know I'm dead already? Or does she have no clue? Is she worried and phoning the police? Or does she have no idea at all? It hurt thinking that I would never see her smile again at me, I would never hear the words, "I love you," come out of her mouth again. She would lose her beloved child the day that was supposed to be a celebration. And because I wasn't able to feel anything other than peace, I could not let my hot tears stream down my face as I curled into a ball and yelled in anger. I looked up at the white roof and thought to myself, "Mom, I love you. And I'm sorry to have trusted someone who was supposed to keep me safe." Regret, I regretted choosing to love a man who caused me to feel pure joy and love for the ten years he cared for me. Because now, the love I felt was destroyed with his hatred of me.

     My focus went back to reality when I heard the television state, "112,097 please go to booth number nine." 

     My number was called, I was next to talk to the person inside the booth. I wondered what they would say. And then wondered what this place was. I had not thought of where I was until now, could this be purgatory? Or was this heaven? Did heaven truly exist, and I had been stupid for giving up my faith in God? Whatever the answer was, I would receive it from the person who worked at booth nine.