Hope and Faith

SEVENTY-SEVEN: FAITH

***THREE DAYS LATER***

It was Saturday night. The funeral had been that morning at St. Andrews – Hope's church. The church that she had grown up in. The church that raised her and became her family. The same church that betrayed her, that was responsible for her death.

After Faith regained consciousness that night, she found out what had happened.

Hope had internal bleeding in her stomach and brain. The doctors put her on life support, believing that her chances of survival were slim. By that night, things were not progressing. When she flat-lined later that evening, there was nothing the doctors could do to save her.

Faith needed to know what exactly happened. How Hope had gotten hit by a car when she was supposed to be away at the facility.

Mike had found out for her. Apparently Hope and another patient at the facility had planned an escape together. Hope had left that night and one can only assume was trying to make her way back home to Meadow. She was standing on the main road when a drunk driver – who wasn't paying attention and was going well over the speed limit – hit her.

When the doctors asked the Chamberlain's what would have possessed Hope to leave the facility and try to come home when she was doing so well and making such progress, Joana and Gabriel didn't know what to say. They were appalled and distraught all at once. But Faith knew the answer, of course. She knew why Hope had left when she did. It was simple: September twenty-first. Hope was trying to make it home for Faith's birthday.

Faith was done going through the motions of grieving. She was done having regrets and thinking about the last words she ever spoke to Hope, the look on her face. She was tired of sitting in her bedroom crying all day, feeling the ache that was emanating from deep inside of her. This was more than just a tragedy. Aside from Grace's death, this was one of the worst devastations she had ever experienced. And she knew then, at that point in her young life, that this would be something that she would never truly get over. She would never be the same again.

But instead of mourning the love of her life, or grieving in solitude, Faith had a different plan on her mind. And that plan was retribution.

She lifted the jug of gasoline, struggling to balance it between her hands. She twisted off the cap and threw it towards the rows of benches, all serving as a reminder to why she was doing this.

Turning towards the front of the room, Faith caught a glimmer of the stained glass windows, an array of colours reflecting towards her. It was then that she almost stopped. Because how was it possible that one room could contain so much beauty, yet yield so much destruction? It was not the fault of the church itself, Faith thought – it was the people who created it. Who came to it every single day and prayed, believed, chanted.

Just as fast as the thought crossed her mind, it was gone again. She wasn't stopping. There was no going back now. Not after everything.

She lifted the jug and began pouring the potent liquid on everything in her wake. Across the rows of church benches, across the podium at the front, and of course, all over the fucking stained glass windows glaring down at her. I'm not even sorry, Faith thought to herself. Hope may have been a daughter of God, but I'm sure as hell not.

Once the jug's contents were completely emptied, Faith dropped it beside her, letting it roll to the side. She walked towards the front, up the steps towards the podium. The same podium that Gabriel Chamberlain stood at and preached from every Sunday. The same podium he would wake up expecting to go to the very next morning.

On the podium was a tiny cross. Faith picked it up and examined it in her hands. It's all a lie, she thought to herself. Everything is a lie. She squeezed it in her hand, clenching her fist around it, the sharp edges digging into her skin. She didn't realize she was gritting her entire body as well until she opened her palm and felt the release.

She threw the cross forward, out across the room, and heard it clink as it hit the ground, somewhere near the empty jug of gasoline.

She took one last look around the room, examining and studying everything. Where they once sat, where they spoke. Where they learned, and where they were destroyed.

Faith closed her eyes, taking a moment to herself to breathe. She reached into her pocket and took out the pack of matches. She brought it close to her face, staring at it, giving herself one last chance to change her mind. She could have easily put them back in her pocket, walked away and pretended as if none of this happened. But what would be the point of that? How would they learn and repent for their mistakes if they never truly suffered?

An image of Hope's face flashed before her eyes, and Faith knew that she was making the right decision. There was no going back. This needed to be done.

She struck the match, once, twice, three times. A spark ignited. Faith grinned to herself. She watched as the flame began to grow ever so slightly. She waited a moment, careful, careful, careful – then, she tossed it forwards.

It landed on the ground, which was drenched in gasoline, and ignited immediately, a giant flame growing before her eyes.

"FUCK YOU!" she yelled into the air. "YOU ALL DESERVE TO BURN IN HELL!" She lit another match – two more, three more. She lit them all until the pack was empty, lighting them and throwing them around her until the entire church was aflame.

She turned around and observed the room as the thick heat and smoke rose around her. It was beautiful. Tragically beautiful.

She felt the smoke in her lungs and began to cough. She hopped down from the podium and headed for the front doors, dodging the flames as she made her way out. Just as she opened the door to leave, she turned around one last time, taking in this sight before her and making a mental imprint in her brain. She would need to remember this forever.

The church was covered in flames. Everything was burning, smoke filling the air. She waited for as long as she could before she knew it was time to go.

"This is what needed to happen," she said aloud. "This is what you get." She imagined the people of Meadow waking up the next morning. Sunday, the day of the Lord. Waking up early, dressing in black, heading to St. Andrew's, only to see that their beloved church and Holy Ground had been burnt to nothing.

Faith did what needed to be done. She did it for love, she did it for freedom.

She did it for Hope.