Divine Violence

Dear Diary

"Walk the line between good and Evil"

Dear Diary, 

My mother grabbed me by the hand today after I walked home, it was dark and no one could save me from the horrors that would happen to me. She told me to find Father Loyd, for only he could help me. She tugged me by the hand along the path I once loved, but she forgot a promisse, that I wouldn't step into the church again, but to her, he is God walking on earth. He was there waiting for me, leaning against the church door, saying he was worried about me and needed to see me that night. We entered, it was not the first time he asked me to look for him in the church when the night had reached its peak. Inside the church that I loved and whose holiness I longed for, it was empty and full of sin, he touched my cheek that was wet with tears. I couldn't escape, he didn't even wait until the basement, where God was watching us, he thought Adam was him and I was.... Eve. No dirty mattress filled with my blood, no comfort from my spirit, always the same words "You tempted me, you're my downfall". 

While hurting my body and soul, I felt this pain, something I had never felt before. I just prayed that God would spare me so it would be fast. Then It happened, a scream, all the candles of the church lit, a blow with such horror opened the doors and broke the tainted glass. Father Loyd was swiped away, and ended up at the altar, crashing his head on the steps. One voice came from the wind, as it was singing a beautiful song "DO NOT TOUCH MY EVE" And I ran away home to lay in my bed and tried to forget it all. 

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Dear Diary,

 I did do some things that I'm not proud of, me and my friends stole booze from the liquor store in the town next to ours. You see, we couldn't do it here, because everybody knows everybody so we took a one-hour trip to the town. I told my mother that we would sleep in Anna's house, we did of course but before it, we took a bus and went to grab some whiskey. It tastedbittersweet, like when you kiss someone that you shouldn't. I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT ANNA, but maybe I am... Anyway, we stole it and came back home walking and drinking it, maybe we grabbed a pack of cigarettes too, but no one needs to know. Only the flicker lights from the road shining over our heads, like we were holy, Anna had a stupid fight with her almost-boyfriend, that guy from 3° period, he was too ugly to her. As we walked, I said to them, "Have you ever wondered who went this path? Imagine, Jesus walked here with Mary Magdalene, and we are eating her dust, how wonderful it is to walk on such holy ground" We all laughed, we were too drunk to think, and now our little group is called Daughters of the heat.

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Dear Diary, 

 When I close my eyes I am back there, the old house, the smell of fresh air mixed with grass. The first building I called home was my parent's house, it was so close to the church, my mother picked that place because of it. She always told me "We can't live in the house of God but we can stay near". Even if I lost my memories I will remember the path between my house and the church. I stayed there, looking at the porch with the chipped green paint of the banister, the sun rising and setting at my back and I couldn't move. I knew the moment I walked into the house would be the same, my Mother sitting on the old sofa, doing some embroidery and when we locked eyes she would ask me where I'd been. We would chat about school and I would walk up the stairs that if you stepped hard enough, it creeks, the corridor with the blue wallpaper, my parent's bedroom always closed, and the dripping noise of the shower. My room was the last one, with baby pink wallpaper that my father refused to change since I was born, my bed that was so soft and my mother insisted on making it every morning, my little desk with books, notes, and a Bible that Father Loyd gave to me. The open window is framed with white curtains that flow with the summer breeze. All at the same places, all known and familiar. But that's not what happened. It was dark, and the house was just an old building crumbling to the ground. I was in my room and a woman appeared at my window, opening it. A silver moon reflected her Auburn hair. She was inside now, waiting and looking at me, I couldn't move, I just felt my breath grow heavier and heavier as she walked close to the mattress and then she jumped and laid in my chest. She was heavy, I tried to move but I couldn't, without looking away she reached for the Bible at my desk, a strong wind, pages turning. I thought that God was coming to save me and then it stopped, slowly, like a snake she moved her head and read out loud "Let death take my enemies by surprise; let them go down alive to the realm of the dead, for evil finds lodging among them." She gave me a little smirk, in her hands, my Bible burned. 

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Dear diary, 

I think this is all a bad dream, I'm a good Catholic girl, this isn't the life I wanted. I wanted to be a nurse. Start a family, get married, have children and tell them stories. How did I end up here? With no one to comfort me? Go-go dancing for married men. They look at me like I'm a desert. They don't see me as a person, I'm just a lustful desire. I can't stand the nicknames, little pet, princess, angel. In this nightmare I'm not even allowed my real name. What is wrong with me? When I saw the sign for dancers. I thought this life wasn't for me. But a voice in my head told me to try it. I heard voices, not the kind crazy people hear, but something like my consciousness asking for things. That's still me, isn't it? I've been hearing that voice for ages, but I never paid attention to it. Mother always told me to listen to my consciousness, the Lord would speak through it. But why would the Lord send me on such trials? This voice tells me to do things that sometimes I don't want to do, but maybe I'm just afraid because I'm far from home. I think I'm reckless, I have a perfect job, food, and a roof over my head and I can do anything I want. To be honest, I've never felt so free. I tried to let go and be myself, but I couldn't do that in this shithole I called home.

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