Sacrifice or Suicide

The Meeting

Lana

You remember when I said that it seemed like everyone around me is trying to make me change my mind. Now I know why. God was trying to tell me that today wasn't my day, but I questioned my faith. My determination clouded my mind! God's actions have shown me that I am one of the chosen ones to start a new world. Because I didn't trust my protector, I will be left to rot in prison while the other chosen ones will be saved from the apocalypse. All the evil in this world will burn in Hell's fire while us chosen ones will survive. I am one of the evil now. I have starved myself for days, yet God doesn't show me any mercy. I feel as if I have to make decisions on my own. God isn't there to guide me anymore.

Rachel

At lunchtime, I sometimes use a knife or fork to cut myself repeatedly in the same spot. I like watching the blood spill. It is the closet thing to what I think feels like death. My cellmate was also arrested for a failed suicide attempt. She mutters prayers all day and all night as if God is going to save her. Luckily, I learnt that God isn't going to save me a long time ago. I do have a good feeling about her though. She doesn't think it is abnormal to cut. She understands how badly I want dead. She knows what it is like to be misunderstood, and she knows how easy it is to misunderstand.

Lana

I watch my cellmate cut herself over and over again with a knife she stole at lunchtime. Does healing really feel that good? Or is it the pain that makes her feel better about herself? She was also arrested for a failed suicide attempt. I wish I knew her name. I wish I could understand her better. When I was with God, I could understand everyone. That's why I divorced Mark. I understood the signals God was sending me about all the sins he was committing. No one else saw those signals, not even my own daughter. Now I know why. I wish I knew that I should embrace the fact that I was a chosen one. I was the only one who could hear God's signals because when the time came He would enlighten me. He would tell me and only me how to escape from the apocalypse.

Rachel

My cellmate is muttering prayers again. She hasn't eaten in the week that she and I have been here. We have just been given the privilege to use paper. She writes words like forgiveness, sin, and mistake over and over again.

"Do you really think God is going to save you?" I ask my cellmate.

"Do you think cutting makes you a better person?" she asks in a British accent.

"So you're a Brit?" I ask her.

"So you're American?" she retorted.

"Okay. Fine. I am Rachel," I say.

"I am Lana," she says.

"Why do you pray? How do you pray? I mean it is so hard to just go on muttering and singing nonsense and still have such a shitty life," I say, hoping that my comment didn't offend Lana.

Lana

She will never understand. She hasn't received the signals. God could sense her doubt. Her doubt clouded her faith.

"It is the sense of belonging," I say instead of the truth. "That's why I pray. I feel as if I am one with God, and I am never alone when I pray."

Rachel was silent.

"Why do you cut yourself?" I ask her.

Rachel

I know she lied. That's not why she prays. I know when someone lies. My father constantly lied to my mother about women, smoking, drugs. I was the only one who knew. I could tell by the scent of women's perfume from his body when I hugged him. I could see the smoke packets hidden in his desk. I could see the pouches of white powder and loose cash hiding under his mattress. I think about lying to her.

"I feel in control when I cut. I feel like I am finally making a decision for myself. I feel like I am finally doing something bad, and that it's not only the others around me who are doing bad things." I say instead of telling the truth.

Lana

I get my bed ready, and I lie down. The mattress is hard. It reminds me of the hard, ice cold floor I would sleep on when I was a maid at the Rochester's home. My sleeping quarters didn't even have hay, leave alone a bed. I feel bad about not telling Rachel the truth, but faith is a part of your privacy.

Rachel

I lie down. I can't sleep. I wonder if Lana is awake.

Before I can stop myself, I say, "I know you lied."

Lana remains quiet.

"I stood in front of a train. It swerved at the last minute. A cop was driving by and arrested me. It is the stupidest way to commit suicide, but I thought it would be the fastest. I cut myself because I think that it feels like death," I say in hopes that Lana will talk to me.

"Death is not pain. Death is sacrifice. God gives us signals. He will enlighten the ones he choses to save them from the apocalypse," Lana says.

"What apocalypse? Why would He save shitty people like us from our shitty lives? That's why I stopped believing. The whole concept of God is unbelievable," I say.

"He saves the ones who don't let their doubt cloud their mind, the ones who continue to believe no matter what," she says.

"Your faith is clouding your common sense, Lana," I say.

"This is why I didn't explain this to you in the first place. You will never understand!" Lana screams.

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry!" I say.

"You have never received the signals," she says.

"Do you have a family?" I ask Lana.

"Yes, a daughter," Lana says.

"I have a daughter too," I say. "I miss her so much. I wish I could see her again."

"She can visit," Lana says.

"She is dead," I say.

Lana

"I am so sorry," I say.

Why is Rachel telling me all of this? How can she trust me? Should I trust her?

"I paralyzed my daughter," I say without thinking. "I almost died in that car accident. I wish I did."

"I have a question," Rachel says. "Do you think suicide is a sacrifice or just plain suicide?"

"It depends. Doesn't it?" I say.

"What is the difference between murder and death?" Rachel asks me.

"In murder, you are killed by another person, and in death, you are just dead," I say.

Why is she asking me all of these questions? I am no saint.

"But aren't you dead even if you're murdered?" Rachel asks me.

Rachel

"I am looking for some sort of spiritual answer. I mean religion kind of contradicts itself in this case. You're a coward if you don't face life, and it is not your choice when you die, but it is still a sacrifice to die for God. How can God make you do all of these things at once," I ask her.

"God gives you many different pathways. You have to chose which one to follow," Lana says. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I say.