God, why?

          Tick tock.

          Another second gone.

          Tick tock.

          Another second wasted.

          Tick tock.

          Another second wishing. Wishing that it were not too late.

          Tick tock.

          Another second waiting. Waiting for someone to save me.          

          Tick tock.

          Five seconds spent in wishful thinking.

*                *                *

          “Flora honey, I’m leaving.”

          I’ve always hated my name. It just sounds so…flowery and girly. It’s as if my parents wanted me to be the perfect daughter: girly and optimistic. I guess wishful thinking runs in the family. “Whatever.”

          “Do you want to—”

          “No.”

          I hear my mother sigh. “Flora, you haven’t gone to church for months now! Don’t you miss your friends from church?”

          I roll my eyes. “No.”

          Silence fills the house.

          “Are you sure?”

          “Yes. Good-bye.”

          The front door opens and feet shuffle out. “Bye, honey. I love you.”

          I don’t answer.

          If you really love me, you wouldn’t have let our lives become this way. If you really love me, you wouldn’t have let Dad and Owen die. If you really love me, you wouldn’t leave me every time I needed you.

          If you really love me, you would have seen my pain.

~

          I stare at the girl in the reflection. She is averagely tall, with a slim built and long, wavy hair. Her face is pale with a slight smattering of freckles across her nose. Black-rimmed glasses balance delicately, and soft, peach lips are pulled into a permanent blank line.

          But all that means nothing. What capture me are her eyes. A striking green in color with flecks of hazel, but lifeless, dull, and devoid of any hope.

          Is that what I have really become?

~

          “How was your day?”

          I push a couple of peas across my plate. “Good.”

          “Was school okay?”

          “Fine.”

          My mother watches me skeptically. “How are your grades?”

          “Fine.”

          “Care to share?”

          “No.”

          When will she finally see the heartache?

~

          They say time heals all scars.

          Too bad it doesn’t.

          They say there’s a God out there who loves you.

          Too bad He doesn’t care enough to show it.

          They say you grow from your experiences.

          Too bad all I can do is fall.

          Why must people give so much false hope?

          Why?

~

          “Hi, Flora.”

          I glance up from my schoolwork toward Alia. “Hello.”

          “How is your mom? Is she doing okay? Is she getting better?”

          Of course everyone asks about my mother. Of course I don’t feel anything. Of course I’m alright, when it’s so obvious I’m not.

          “Yeah.”

          Alia gives me a small smile. “Great! See you around, Flora.”

          Why doesn’t this God care enough to send someone who will understand?

*                *                *

          Tick tock.

          A last chance.

          Tick tock.

          I reach for the strange white envelope.

          Tick tock.

          I unfold the letter.

          Tick tock.

          Words blur as a single tear drops on the page.

          Tick tock.

          All I can hear is the echo of His voice.

          I understand, Flora…I see your heartache, your pain…

          If you would let me take that away…

          You would be free…