The In-between.

Where did he go?

             My lungs don't burn, and leg doesn't hurt. I run down hills---more like mountains---and race past trees losing count of how long I've been running. Questions and hope fill my soul and I can't stop running. What if a chapel's advice won't help you like it did dad? What if all you hit is another dead end? I won't slow down no matter how much doubt tries to pull me to a stop. Unless I'm on fire, stopping is out of the question.

I'm aware of every moment around me as I pass another---or the same elk. his eyes seem more satisfied than before as I fly by his presence. I smile for the first time in forever as I push myself faster than I ever have before. When the concrete streets get easier to see more and more, I start to lose breath and slow down. Though, at this point, I don't care considering I need to stop sooner or later. But I don't stop. I run down sidewalks and race past cars. All to get to this chapel as soon as possible.

When I reach the pavement leading up the red double doors I can't seem to go any further. 'Take your time' something tells me. Whether it is, myself or the ghost of my past, I listen. Out of breath, I drop to my knees. All I can do is stare and think "This may or may not be the answer to all the questions I have".

Tears I didn't even know I was holding started flooding my eyes more and more like a hurricane and the eye of all of it is nowhere to be seen. So, I sit there and cry like a pitiful baby wanting her daddy to come back. Wanting him to come hold her in his arms and sing some 70's rock n' roll song in her ear even when she doesn't understand why there is a stairway to heaven. Where did he go? Why did he leave me with her? He loves me. Why did he leave me like this? I was his sweet Alex. Now I'm no one. Cancer doesn't get to control my life. I control my life, and he just let some stupid disease take him away from me.

That controls the way my life goes. Leaving me with some drunk slut I call my mother. Why can't he just come back? Why would God let something like this happen? Dad believed in God. Yet he let my father die in front of my eyes and my father still believed in him. Why? What's the point of it all? There is no point because God doesn't exist. Even after my stubborn mind screamed 'God doesn't exist' I still walked up the concrete steps and pushed the big red double doors open.

When I got inside I was suddenly relaxed to see no one inside as a breeze of candle scents met me at the door of the church. My muscles relaxed and my heart slowed its pace as the tears falling started to stop and dry. I sat down on the ground just not feeling like taking a seat in the chairs. I became aware of everything around me and took in the paintings and statues surrounding me. One specific painting stood out in the front of the podium. A man nailed to a cross as people surrounded him on their knees and words lined the bottom of the very detailed canvas. "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit", Psalm 31:5.

Why would anyone want to give themselves away? Like a slave. I do admit it is so beautiful. I actually shed a few tears just staring at it. All the sudden a huge pain strikes my leg and I groan in pain but never tearing my eyes away from the painting. Silently praying the pain would go away I asked myself 'Why does is hurt so much? Make it st---'

Interrupting my thoughts a man spoke in a low rumble making me jump out of the spot I was sitting. "Beautiful isn't it...". Ready to run again, ignoring the pain in my leg, I turn and see a tall man with a white dress shirt, black pants, and very shiny shoes standing before me. I stop suddenly in my tracks as he says "Woah! Woah! I didn't mean to startle you. I just saw you from my studies and felt like you might need someone to talk to. I mean no harm. Just a helping h---". "I don't need help. I'm fine." He obviously sees right through me because he raises and eyebrow and stares at my bloody leg.

I look him straight in the eye dangerously and say "I fell off a tree" slightly convincing myself too with a large amount of determination in my voice. He flashes his pearly white teeth with a smile and says "I can treat it if you'd like. Maybe get you something to eat and dry clothes to wear. I'm sure I have something in storage."

I take a step back. Increasing the distance between us. I'm obviously still on edge and he sees it so he takes a step back too. I think about his offer. Will he really help? Can I trust him? While I'm contemplating his offer my leg starts to throb even more and I realize I really do need help. "Yeah, thanks. Y-Yes sir, or whatever." He slightly laughs with a grumble and says "Please don't. Call me Pastor Austin.

My eyes widen suddenly and I realize I probably should've been a little bit more respectful. After all, I did want the pain in my leg to stop. Maybe someone or something is listening. "What's your name?" he asks suddenly breaking me from my deep thoughts. "Alexandria Marie Michelson, but people call me Alex."