We took Mickey to Chuck E. Cheese the next day. She hadn't been out of the house for fun in a while so we decided it would be good for her. She went ahead, a slight bounce in her step as she ran towards the play place. Ruth laughed at her joyfulness, just glad that her little girl was finally able to have fun. She went off to go watch Mickey and make sure she didn't get hurt, so I went and bought the pizzas. I took the number to the table and waited for the pizza and my family.
I was thinking about that stupid pastor again. God wants to help us. I knew He didn't. There was no way a loving God would want to help anyone that had killed a bunch of other people who were possibly God-loving. So God can't help me. What was the preacher thinking? Repent. Repent? How did you repent from something so drastic?
I watched the faces flash through my mind again. Then I saw them come back to me again, alive and bloody. Was that God? Was God trying to tell me to repent? Why would he do that? And in such a frightening way? Or was that the point? I did something frightening and unthinkable to those people, so I needed to be frightened.
I shivered and shook my head, tossing aside the thoughts. Then I watched the nightmare walk towards me. Literally. The lady from the grocery store, the woman with the two little boys, walked towards me in the middle of the Chuck E. Cheese. I knew by now that they were real. She was alive with a bullet hole in her chest and blood soaking her shirt the way it had last time I had seen her, lying on the floor of the MegaPort. I waited, but even though I already knew what to expect I was scared. These ghost-like figures were meant to frighten me and they did. By the time she finally reached me I was sweating bullets, my heart was beating in my throat, and I couldn't hear any thoughts over the sound of my own panicking.
"Please, just give me the paper and go." I said. I didn't want to deal with this, especially not with my family so close by. She just stared at me as the Chuck E. Cheese employee brought the pizza to our table. As he left she reached a hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the note I'd been waiting for.
"Thank you." I said, reaching out to take it, but she didn't let go.
"Repent." She whispered.
"What is it with you people!" I demanded in a hushed tone, "Everybody's telling me to repent! How am I supposed to repent! Who am I supposed to repent to! And what am I supposed to repent for!"
But she walked away from me without looking back. I stared after her as Mikayla came running up and yelling about the pizza, completely jazzed. My wife looked at me and then glanced in the direction I was looking.
"Honey." She said, taking my elbow, "Are you coming to eat?" she asked.
"Yeah." I said, turning away from the lady and towards the table. The rest of lunch I sat lost in thoughts about God and His opinion of people like me, and whether or not I should repent to Him and turn myself in to the police. By the time we left I still didn't have a solution.
