FicWad

I always imagined Heaven possessing majestic gates of gold and endless fields of white. I imagined that when I arrived an angel would take my hand in hers. She would guide me through the gates and a sense of relief would sweep over me. Once inside, God would embrace me. Peering up from his loving, powerful arms I would see a tear in His eye as He welcomed me home.

I always imagined Hell as a dungeon. The chains that kept me bound to the walls were to burn my flesh, for I imagined the devil kept his metal hot. Each night the devil would enter the room in which I was held against my will. He would then cup my face in his bloody hands as he grinned in a way in which only the devil himself can.

But the place I went after I said my final prayer was similar to neither Heaven nor Hell. The place I went to was worse than either of these. I was sent to the abandoned train station of my youth.

This should have brought me comfort, for in my young life I often searched and received safety at the train station. It was where I ran off to when I was certain that I could not handle anymore hateful words shouted at me from various priests, as well as fellow church-goers. I had always been aware of how horrible I truly was. But I did not need it constantly thrown back at me. We all were guilty of being disgusting individuals, were we not? But these priests and members of Catholic Church noticed the flaws of humans in me, instead of themselves. I wore their weaknesses on my sleeve, and I was tormented for displaying such evil. So, I disappeared to the abandoned train station when this all became too much to bear. There I was aloud to be only myself, without being punished for it.

Although this train station gave much comfort to me when I was young, I did not feel secure when I was in the place between Heaven and Hell. Instead of the relaxation I once experienced, it felt as if I was anticipating something that was never to occur. It was an eerie feeling, and it caused me to be uneasy.

My body trembled. I could not stand the feeling any longer. And so I stood at the edge of the platform, the train tracks right below. I leaned forward. A train, out of nowhere, came into view. My body was still slowly gravitating towards the tracks as the incoming train approached me. I was certain I was to be hit and killed, but the doors to one of the train’s cars opened and two hands snatched my body.

I landed onto the car’s floor with force. Frantically, I glanced around searching for the one who rescued me from the near death disaster I had just experienced. But my quick search was futile. There was no one to be found. My disappointment was soon forgotten when a white light blinded my vision. I drew my hand over my face, but it was not enough. The light grew brighter and more intense. When it became too much to bear, I collapsed onto the floor and shut my eyes.

When my eyes were reopened, I found myself in a room that was the same blinding color as the light. I peered around the room to find myself lying in what must have been a hospital bed. Bandages were tied around both of my wrists. Next to my bed was my mother, praying the rosary. She did not notice me until her precious rosary was tucked carefully inside her purse. When she looked up at me tears appeared in her eyes. She threw her head back and clasped her hands together as she thanked God for this blessing. My father, who stood with his back to me, just merely nodded at me before he turned his back to me once again. I did not have to glance down at my bandaged wrists to realize why he would not look me in the eyes.

My father did not speak to me for the remainder of my stay at the hospital. It was only when we first arrived home that he spoke. I had assumed that he would not have anything kind to say, but there was a part of me that hoped that I had assumed incorrectly. Though I thought I had prepared for the worst, nothing could have readied me for what he had to say to me.

I was aware that I was to be punished for my suicidal tendencies on Judgment Day. I was even aware that my father knew this as well. He knew that I was destined to Hell long before my attempt to end my own life. But he never mentioned it. Naturally, I never expected him to bring this knowledge of his to my attention. So when he did just what I never expected him to, I felt a type of pain that I had never experienced before. I could never erase the image out of my mind of his cold, heartless eyes staring right into mine as he spoke the words that I feared. My father spat out the remark with so much disdain that I was shocked that a human being was capable of such hate.

His awful words still lingered in the air long after my father had left. When I could not bear it anymore, I did another cowardly act. I ran to the train station of my youth.

I had hoped to feel the comfort that I longed for and not the restlessness that I experienced when I was between Heaven and Hell. But when I arrived I could not recognize the difference between the two emotions. As I moved towards the tracks, I prayed:

Our Father, who art in Heaven
Hallowed be Thy name.
Please, Father, hear me.
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.
Please, Father, have faith in me.
Give us this day our daily bread
Please, Father, guide me.
And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Please, Father, forgive me.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
Please, Father, help me.
Amen.

The tracks were now at my feet and I still could not decide which Father I was praying to.