To Know You

Twelve: Seth

"Can we like go?" Stella dumps an armful of baby clothes into the cart with an annoyed expression. 

"Oh yes, I forgot you have cheerleading practice." 

As if a drop of lemon juice fell upon her tongue, her lips zipped into a tight and unwrinkled frown; while her eyes glared daggers at me. "I don't partake cheerleading! Cheerleading is for the trash of the school to walk around in miniskirts hoping to gain the attention of a football player. Cheerleaders are the ones who give it up to the entire football team! So, don't ever say I do such a whorish sport." Grabbing a cart, she storms off towards the front of the store with fire practically shooting out of her heels. 

Does no one understand judging others is a sin too? Have we forgotten Luke 6:37?

"Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn others, or it will all come back against you. Forgive others, and you will be forgiven." 

Later that evening I found myself on the third floor in what would be the baby's room if in fact it is a boy. I was dressed in a white t-shirt and plain blue jeans, with paint brush in hand, I was gingerly stroking the walls and turning them an Azure blue. The manner was now mostly a ghost town for Nakawa, Blanche, and Lola were all at study groups. Additionally, Stella did have a practice she needed to get to, only it wasn't cheerleading but a private equestrian lesson on her one-million-dollar horse, Lux. 

The things rich people will buy their kids...

However, that simply left me and Olive within the walls of the manner. I was lucky enough to be able to slip through one of the back doors with all the items without being seen by anyone. Of course, I did lose two-hundred dollars in hush money to keep Stella's mouth zipped but it was money well spent. When I was done hiding everything away, I slipped downstairs and discovered that Olive tucked herself away in her dorm room for an evening Bible study. Which I found both joy and confusion in. 

I do not mean to condemn her when I think this but as Christians, we are called to save ourselves until marriage and it's no secret how Olive got pregnant. So, I am happy that she is either a born-again-Christian or simply new to Christianity. But deep down I always thought I would be my wife's first in nearly everything. As I have kept myself pure of everything including a kiss. However, I do not condemn Olive for having experienced worldly things outside of marriage it just hurts in a way that no one will ever hear of.  

For if I spoke of my pain, it would only cause her pain, therefore I must take this pain and hideaway to suffer alone as I always do...

"God why is it like this? Constantly my life is under a cloud of pain, and no one ever comes to take it away." 

Truth be told, I haven't honestly handed my trauma over to God because I don't trust anyone with it. I have always just delt with it and never have trusted anyone else to handle it. Because how can I trust someone with such pain when they themselves have never experienced it? 

Sighing, I dip the brush into the paint and continue to the stroke the wall. The house was so quite yet my mind was screaming at me. At times it feels like my mind is nothing but a cage and within the steel bars is my beaten and battered soul. My body is a walking prison and every broken part of me is its poisoner. I was born with pain in my DNA, and I will die with pain engraved in my DNA. That's the life of people like me, we're born alone, and we die alone. That's why Cheyenna means so much to me, my mind allowed something so beautiful and loving into it and without her my soul would've died long ago, I would have simply been a broken shell.

"God let's have a real conversation, okay?" Facing the wall, I grumble underneath my breath. "Let's say theoretically Olive is Cheyenna what is the plan? I mean look at me! I'm as ugly as a monster, and what little part of my personality that isn't scarred is awful. Lord I'm not perfect enough for Cheyenna to be real, she won't want me don't you understand that!" I am overcome with anger as I toss the paint brush down into the pail of paint and sink onto my knees as my head falls back allowing my eyes to close and lips to part while a whisper escapes.