Anome (A Christian Story)

Chapter 4

I had a dreamless sleep or I didn't remember the dream. It didn't matter whatsoever. My body ached from the beatings we received.

The other girl was untied. I looked at myself and found that I was also free.

"What happened?" Those were the first words I ever said to this girl.

"Our redeemer." Her tiny voice came.

Is that even a reasonable answer?

"I am pregnant." She declared. "I am pregnant."

So?

"So?" I asked irritably.

"Sister, you are pained. What's up?"

"Hmmmph. As if you'd understand." I mumbled.

"Just tell me. I would. I am twenty five."

My eyes widened.

She looked like a tiny sixteen year old.

Really?

"Why did you have to tell me your age?"

"I don't know. What's up with you? You can tell me. I am twenty five and I've gone through a lot."

A lot?

"It can't be compared to my situation."

I moved closer to her to hear whatever she wanted to say.

"It could be worse. It is actually."

"How would you know?"

"See. I was born to a careless family who dropped three-year old me on the road. I grew up with a family as their maid. When I was fourteen, I was accused of stealing the mother's jewelry. It wasn't a false accusation because I actually stole it. Then, sold it. Then, ran away. Being fourteen is probably when those youthful rushes start. Probably. "

"So? So how does this relate to me?"

"All I could do was sell my blood for money. I continued until I was about to die. Hungry, dirty, homeless, familyless, injured, emotionally hurt but then, at the right moment, at that moment of suicide, something happened."

Suspense..........

"What happened?" I asked, annoyed at the suspense.

"Then, the Lord.....visited me."

I clapped. I gave her a round of applause then scoffed.

Visit? I thought he was invisible? Now he is a visitor. Is it until I become homeless and injured that the Lord will know that I need help. Just be playing.

"Then, what? You cooked a meal to welcome him. Oh sorry, I forgot. You were homeless. Where did he visit you then? Under a bridge? In a bus park? Where?"

"Bring your hand." She grabbed my hands and started praying. I was shocked at the way she prayed heartily for me. As if she loves me. Did she really love me?

She was praying in English and in another language. I felt my heart thawing.

Oh, no you don't. I can't just let someone melt my frozen heart. What is this?

I felt wonderful.

When she finished praying. She spoke to me about Jesus. The name I had so much dreaded.

"He can't love me! He doesn't love me! He killed my mother. He let her die. My dad ran away. I am so hurt!" I shouted.

She hugged me.
Tears fell.