I drove in auto-pilot mode all the way to the hospital. It always amazes me how your brain can function autonomously while you aren’t truly engaged. It would seem my entire life has subsisted of living in this plane of being physically present, but not truly mentally or emotionally linked to anything that would identify me as a genuinely functioning human being. Perhaps those voices in my head are more truthful and in touch than I have assumed previously if you take this angle into consideration.
As I wait for the elevator, I silently hope that Samuel isn’t there with my mom. I don’t think I am ready to tangle with the likes of that disarming smile at this moment. “You know you will never be worthy of someone like Samuel. Who could love a slut like you?” says the gravelly voice in my head. “You’re worthless and will never amount to anything that will attract a normal man,” chimes the decidedly female voice. “You’re going to hell for all the shit you’ve done. God rejected you a long time ago, leaving you with only us,” states the shrill, cracking voice of what reminds me of a boy in the process of a voice change. “Even Dennis only wants you for sex, you seductive whore,” adds gravelly voice. “SHUT UP!” I scream inside my head. The elevator doors open, I exit the elevator, hopefully leaving the voices behind, at least for a few hours.
“Shit! He’s here,” goes through my brain as I try to act as though his presence is the most normal thing I’d expect entering the room.
“Tatiana, your mom called me and told me the news about her test results. I came over early to sit with her until you would be off work, but I see you came early.”
“Tati, dearest, I am so glad you are here early. I was so worried about how you would take the news,” my mom says as a tear leaks from the corner of her eye. “Are you alright dear? Would you like to talk about how you are feeling?”
“I don’t think I’m the one that should have the attention here. You are the one with the imminent death sentence, so let’s not waste time with how I’m feeling. Is there something you need me to do for you over the next few weeks mom?” This is in no way a common mother—daughter conversation, and it screamed awkward, perhaps even a bit callous on my part.
“Well dear, why don’t we discuss that once Samuel leaves the room? He was just about to pray with me before you arrived,” my mother says as she turns to look at Samuel with a look of veneration. “Samuel, would it be too much to ask you to say a quick prayer right now?”
Samuel glances over at me and this time he doesn’t flash that dazzling, carefree smile. I guess he could tell I was grinding my teeth by the set of my jaw. I hope it made him feel uncomfortable, why should I be the odd person out. He is the one who doesn’t belong here. “I would be pleased to pray for you.”
I snapped, like when you are too fat for your pants, and the enclosure can’t hold your girth anymore. I exploded in a torrent of malice that was meant to set him packing for good. “It is too much to ask of me! What the hell do you think his prayer is going to do mom? YOU ARE DYING! He isn’t going to be able to save your life by repeating some religious phrase that is meant to appease the one God that resides in heaven and gives a shit about people like you and me. You want prayer, great, I have one for you. God, you never fucking cared about my mom before, so why you would now is a mystery to me. If you have any compassion, which I haven’t seen any evidence of, let her not suffer. Oh yeah, and if there is such a place as ‘paradise’ than make sure she has a ticket in, because she’s lived enough of hell already, Amen.”
“Tatiana, apologize right now. That was unkind and unnecessary, not only to Samuel, but to me,” mom says as she winces in pain.
“I’m not apologizing mom. That is exactly how I see it. Why should I have to apologize for being the only one willing to speak the truth? God has done absolutely nothing for us, and if he does exist, he is one mean bastard for letting us suffer,” I reply while folding my arms across my chest and planting my feet firmly apart in order to absorb the retaliatory blow I am sure is coming from the religious section of the room.
YOU ARE READING
Tortured Souls (On Hold)
General FictionTatiana Spencer is a 24-year old woman that has known pain and hard times. She drinks to keep the nightmares and voices at bay. With her mother lying in the hospital dying of cancer, she is beginning to learn that the demons of the past and presen...
