He sat there with a gun in his hand and his back against the crucifix.
The church was more placid than he remembered. He had only been here on a few occasions. As a child he wanted to find god, he thought it would just happen if he came to church more often. It didn't. At least that's how he felt. If there was a god, maybe he didn't want to be found, maybe he was tired of all the bullshit just like us and had given up on us, like we had on him.
He realized that he didn't have much time left, he had to make a decision now or it will be too late. If they find him, who knows what they will be able to get out of him. He couldn't do it, not yet, but he knew he had to. There was no other way. He could keep running but for how long? Sooner or later this was bound to happen, better happen under circumstances where he has some control.
He looked around for the cabinet beside the pipe organ in which he remembered they stored the blood of Christ. It should help him think more clearly. He walked over with the limp that he was still getting use to, with Gate of Heaven (silly name for a gun, a set of 2 which his boss had given him) still in his hand and grabbed the handles of the cabinet with both hands. Opened it in a single motion, spreading his arms, like a priest about to give his sermon. This is what he needed. This is what had helped him through some really bad times in his life, not God.
He limped back to his place at the crucifix above him Christ crucified, he sat underneath drinking Christ's blood.
Thinking of reasons of why he shouldn't do what he felt he was about to. He didn't want to think about it, just get it over with and...then what? What DOES happen after death? How is it that he is more inclined to believe now more than ever that there may be a heaven? He still couldn't believe that there is a God, then how is there a better place after all of this is over? He took another swig of Christ's blood as Christ looked down on him from the crucifix. He couldn't help but cry now, thinking of all that he would be leaving behind and unanswered. NO, he wasn't going to let this be it. He had wanted his life to be like this, he CHOSE this. There was no one else that had gotten him here but his own actions so he wasn't about to let this decision, his last decision, be the choice of some absent great being.
A car, had just parked outside the church, he knew who it was, he was running out of time.
This was it. He took gate of heaven, put it's barrel next to his temple and closed his eyes. His thumb hesitantly cocked the hammer and his index finger approached the the trigger, like a key fitting a key hole, his finger rested nicely in the curve of the trigger. He wasn't scared. He knew now that no matter what happened after this, there had to be something better. There must be something better. As the weight of his finger brought the trigger down, he found him. They say God takes many forms of all shapes and size, he found God in the shape of a hollow point.
