The king of everything

Chapter Twenty three- The surrender

The church was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles flickering at the altar, casting long shadows across the room. I sat in one of the back pews, trying to blend in, not really wanting to be noticed by anyone. It was strange, being here. I hadn't grown up religious—my parents weren't the type to drag me to Sunday services or talk about faith around the dinner table. But somehow, this place had become a refuge for me.

Each time I stepped inside, I felt a kind of calm, a quiet that I couldn't find anywhere else. Life outside these walls was a storm, battering me from every direction. My father's illness. My mother's silence. The weight of knowing that everything was falling apart, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The overwhelming sense of helplessness clawed at me every waking moment, leaving me on edge, on the verge of losing my mind.

I had started coming here a few weeks ago, almost by accident. I was walking, just trying to clear my head, when I saw the open door to the church. At first, I walked past it, but something made me stop and turn around. I didn't really know what I was looking for when I stepped inside—maybe just some space to breathe, a break from the chaos that was consuming me. But as I sat down in that empty pew, staring up at the crucifix, something inside me began to shift.

In the beginning, it was just an escape, a place to be alone with my thoughts. But the more I came back, the more I found myself doing something I hadn't done in years—praying. At first, it felt ridiculous, like I was speaking into an empty void. I wasn't even sure I believed in God, or in anything, really. But what else was I supposed to do? Everything I had tried—talking to friends, drowning my thoughts in work, ignoring the pain—it wasn't working. The storm inside me was growing stronger, and I was afraid of what might happen if I didn't find some way to calm it.

Now, sitting here again, I clasped my hands together, my fingers tightening around each other like I was holding on for dear life. My lips moved silently, words forming that I wasn't sure I even believed in. But I was desperate. Desperation had driven me to this point, to seek out something—anything—that might help me get through this.

"God," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "I don't know if you're listening. I don't know if you even care, but I need help. I need you."

My voice cracked on the last word, my throat tight with emotion. I felt like I was on the verge of breaking down, tears burning behind my eyes, but I held them back. I wasn't ready to lose control, not yet.

"I can't do this anymore," I continued, my voice trembling. "I can't keep pretending like I'm okay, like I've got everything under control. Because I don't. I'm falling apart."

The words tumbled out, raw and jagged. I didn't even know what I was saying, but I couldn't stop. The floodgates had opened, and everything I had been bottling up for weeks, months, maybe even years, was pouring out of me.

"My dad... he's dying. I don't know how to handle that. I don't know how to accept it. I don't even know if I can. And my mom—why didn't she tell me? Why did she keep this from me? Why did she let me walk around in ignorance, thinking everything was fine when it wasn't?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The pain of it all was suffocating, like I was drowning in a sea of emotions too deep to escape from. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, trying to ground myself, to keep from spiraling.

"Please," I whispered, my voice breaking, "I just need to know what to do. I need a sign, something—anything—that shows me you're there, that I'm not alone in this."

I waited. My heart pounded in my chest, the silence of the church pressing in on me. I don't know what I expected—a booming voice from the heavens? A flash of light? Something miraculous that would take away the pain and confusion?