The Chapel

“We’re going to release you this weekend into the care of your Brother. He said that you will be leaving the state, and he has arranged care for you?”

You know when you can look at someone and tell they pity you? That was the case here. The poor little girl who was abused and now look at her. Pregnant and alone. Why was she so selfish that she could have killed her child, but then again, was that what she was trying to do? No, but no one would believe that. All she wanted was to take the baby and go to sleep forever. No more pain, no more stress. Every time she placed her hand on her stomach a wave of guilt washed over her. She almost hurt a child? What kind of animal was she? The worst kind ever.

“Yes, I will be going home with him for a while. He wants to make sure I don’t do it again,” nervous laughter came from deep within. She knew it wasn’t funny. She was scared of how to feel now. Would one word make them assume she would do it again? She wouldn’t. She made that promise to friends and family.

“You know, if you need to talk the Chaplin is in right now. You can go down and visit,” said the nurse before she excused herself due to alarms going off in another part of the hospital.

Since May, Gypsy has been anti-god. He hated her. Well, that’s how she perceived it. Since the shooting in Florida, she has been avoiding anything that had to do with talking about a spiritual being. Talking to a Chaplin? Maybe it was time.

The small chapel lit by a million white candles, all of them for prayer. Pushing her body to walk, Gypsy took the box of matches, lighting one, but nothing. No prayer, nothing. She was raised Catholic and this wasn’t how it was done. She knew that. The match burned in her hand till it reached the tip of her fingers, forcing her yelp, blowing it out quick.

“Fuc… darn it.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” the voice called out, an elderly man walking forward. Grey hair, using a cane, he held a bible in the other hand, “I was told to expect you. Would you like to sit with an old man for a bit?”

The nurse must have warned them that she was coming. Maybe just to make sure she arrived.

“Sure, but only for a minute. I’m not on good terms with God right now.”

No sugar coating that one. She was angry at him.

The young blonde forced herself to take a seat next to the man, feeling a sudden calmness about herself. Did he know? Know that she tried to kill herself? Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she pushed her hands down, not wanting him to see the bandages that covered her arms. She would forever carry the shame in the form of scars on her wrists. Something she was ashamed of.

“Miss Kennedy, right?” his voice soothing, there was a hint of an Irish accent to his tone. Again, that was a comfort. She was Irish herself.

Nodding her head, tilting a slight bit, “Mary. You can call me Mary.”

“Lovely name. I knew Mary once. She had a son with her husband Joseph,” he said, his voice held a little comedy to it.

The man sat quietly for a moment. His eyes seemed to focus on the flicker of the candles. It was beautiful the way they illuminated the stained glass windows. The light dancing in a million beams as it hit the glass.

“I know about what happened to you and if you want to talk, I’m here to listen. If you want to sit, we can do that too. No words have to be spoken. I’m an old man and have heard a million stories, but everyone is different, and yet everyone is the same. I can give you a lifetime of wisdom, or a shoulder to cry on,” his voice soft, yet there was some sort of authority to it. Like even if he was not a man of God, she would still respect him.

“I guess the world knows about me now?” turning slightly, the young blonde searched his face. She wanted him to say no, the nurse had told him. Maybe he needed her to say that to make her feel better about herself, but a simple nod told her everything she would need to know. For all, she knew her family was trending all over twitter due to the molestation allegations her mother told the press about.

“Do you worry about what the world thinks?” He asked.

Lowering her head to look at her bandages, shaking her head, “Not so much what people think, but what they believe. Girls claim all the time to be touched, raped, molested to get attention. I lived it. Well, not the rape, but the rest is true. He had no right to touch me like a man touches a woman. I know I should have said something when it first happened, but that was my daddy. I loved my father back then.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, she hadn’t said in years that she ever loved her father. When she was a child, he was her hero. Daddy would sit in front of a whole court of people and decide the fate of others. She remembered how she would sit there and grin because that was her father. Now, she hated him with every fiber of her being. Little girl’s first love is her father, yet for Mary, all she remembers is fearing the sun going down. That meant she would have to go to bed. Bed meant waking up to his paws all over her body. Even know, it caused a vile taste in her mouth. One of disgust. Now that she was pregnant, she feared to have a daughter more than anything in the world. Not because her father would hurt her. She knew in a million years that would never happen. She feared that one day someone would make her feel like she wasn’t clean anymore.

The Chaplin looking over at her, changing her life forever. “It’s okay to love the man you thought he was. You don’t have to kill every memory you have of the man you thought was there to protect you. You will learn now that you have a child of your own that every parent makes mistakes, but not every parent hurts their child. You and your child’s father will protect it because you learned from the worst how to be the best. God shows us the way, but he can’t make us follow. He set an example for mankind, but somewhere in the darkness evil prevailed and took a place on the altar. Your father is a sick man, but sometimes the sick can be healed. From what I know of him, and I am never allowed to pass judgment, he will never change. Stop covering for him.”

She didn’t even know she was crying till she looked up and the heat on her face was there in the form of tears.

The Chaplin dismissed himself, giving her a moment of prayer before he left.

In the darkness, we sometimes find the light. Was it time to tell the truth? As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t. She couldn’t hurt her brothers’ career. If she got one thing out of this all, it was that she could keep her memories inside of her heart even though she didn’t have to keep the man.

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