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Being strolled into a masque basement, Matt was inside a wheelchair. His face seemed to be getting better, with now him wearing all-black sweats. Sister Maggie held onto the back of his wheelchair and strolled it over to the bed.
"The bed is right in front of you" She guided him, as Matt put his hand out and let the cane hang over the side of the wall. "And press this and we should hear you from upstairs,"
The look on Matt's face was as if he was tired of everything, which he was. He didn't want to do any of this anymore, with the faith of god no longer living inside of his body.
"Because we don't have anything better to do."
"Very Christian of you" Matt sarcastically spoke.
The weight of his shattered faith hung heavy in the room, a palpable absence that mirrored the void within Matt's own mind.
The once steadfast beliefs that had guided his actions and decisions were now scattered fragments, lost in the currents of doubt and disillusionment.
The realization settled upon him with a profound sense of loss, like a gaping void where once his convictions had resided. The very essence of what he had held dear seemed to slip through his fingers, leaving him disoriented and untethered.
In the midst of this internal turmoil, a painful truth gnawed at his heart. Y/n, the person he had loved and cherished, had moved on. The wounds of their shared past still lingered, leaving a haunting residue of bitterness and resentment.
