Escaping Purgatory
Before the fire catches me
Ecclesiastes 7:17: “Be not overly wicked, neither be a fool. Why should you die before your time?”
My mother’s voice bounces between my ears, talking about her cousin, about how it’s a mortal sin to take your own life, about purgatory, and how a soul lingers in its fire.
For months, each day has bled into the next. The pads inside my shoes have thinned from walking the same routes again and again.
Nothing excites me anymore. Scrolling my FYP only makes me feel smaller. Emptiness suffocates me when I’m alone.
The motel room smells like mildew.
“You’re late,” the man says.
“I know.”
Stale air clings to my lungs.
I examine the scar on his left cheek and say, “You look different from what I thought.”
“You thought about me?” The guy’s teeth glimmer in the dim light, and his eyes are cold.
He’s the fourth one. The third backed out. The second laughed in my face when I asked him to take it to the extreme. The first ran when I begged him to wring my neck until I turned white.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks.
“Gagging me to death?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Until I can’t breathe. Do you want to do it or not?”
He takes off his baseball cap, sweeps back his hair, and lowers his head to meet my gaze. With a casual stretch of his arms and a subtle shift of his hips, the bulging crotch pressing against his tight jeans makes my lips dry.
His attention turns to the Bible on the nightstand.
“My Grandma used to read passages to me,” the man says. “She told me God doesn’t like cowards.”
Now I know why my prayers feel hollow.
Doing good for others only brings nothing but grudges, bitterness, and hatred in return. No matter how much I give, I always end up with something more to lose.
Forgiving leaves me numb.
The clock ticks, pointing its finger at me.
And the heat of his stare continues to burn against my skin. His shadow spreads across the room as he unbuckles his belt.
“Are you a coward, Jay?” he asks.
My right foot steps back.
But sighing has never felt this good.
I must escape the purgatory.
“Yes.”
The End.