HERO SYNDROME

❝Wherever, Wherever The Damned Souls Go❞

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t r i g g e r

w a r n i n g

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Growing up, my father was passionate about religion. Not God, but religion. He always dragged us to Sunday and Wednesday mass, and kept rosaries in his glove department. He prayed every night, he always prayed for the same thing.

For the church to save his soul.

I don't think it ever happened for him. I mean, while dad was alive. I don't think he found what he was looking for. His soul wasn't saved in the way he hoped it would be. He didn't find the answers he wanted and that was enough for him in this life.

After his death, mom tried to take us back to church. She said that we would find comfort in our faith. In God, the saints, the prayers, and sermons. I didn't have the heart to tell her, I had no faith. I was a young girl walking through life with a hatred of religion. I hated the church and how it gave false hope to the damned. I hated that my father was the most damned of us all, and in his quest to save his soul, he damaged our family forever.

Dad might've tried to save his soul, but he only damned mine in the process. I hated church...I really did.

But I liked the idea of something bigger than us, out there, somewhere in a different plane of existence, watching what they created. It made the chaos of my life seem insignificant in the grand scheme of things. God, as I would remain to call it, was not some big judgmental outer being. It wasn't a man-made concept used to scare the masses, but someone in the wind that would listen to a damned soul like mine.

My idea of God was a friend, there to listen.

So I searched for God all night. That's how I ended up at the cliff Jace had once shared with me. It seemed like the only place not touched by the turmoil of my life.

I sat down close to the edge and let my legs hang from the ledge. My eyes felt heavy, I was exhausted, though nowhere near sleepy. For too long, I had run from God. Now it was time to talk.

I said the Our Father prayer and always thought of it as an opener to a long letter t. Mom said prayers were a lot like that, letters. I always started with a beginning prayer, and talked through the middle, and ended with a last prayer. An intro, a main, and a conclusion.

"I've been looking for answers to questions I don't want to ask." I started off. The silent response made me feel stupid, because essentially, I was talking to myself.

But I needed to get my anger off my chest.

"Max and Stella know about Colton and the pregnancy. I didn't want them to get hurt but they did. Stella hates me now, you remember Stella? She's the one who saved my life and now she wants nothing to do with me. Oh and Max my brother? Yeah, he hasn't even said a word to me. I might as well be dead to him!"

I was breathing hard. My heart pounded so hard I was sure it was going to stop. But it didn't and I kept on yelling.

"Oh and this really nice boy Jace came into my life. He wanted to save me! Can you believe that idiot? He wanted to save me and even dumber than that, I let him believe he could!" I was laughing but it wasn't funny. It was sad, all of it was sad. "He's hurting too, not just because I won't let him love me, but because he loved someone who's left him like dad did."

The wind that had stayed at bay, was now rolling in. The leaves in the trees rustled violently, in response to my ranting. Tears rolled down my cheeks, as I closed my eyes and felt it's chill whip my skin. God was listening, and it was here.