It’s too much for them to handle, now. They’ve been thumping their bibles from dawn until dusk and long into the moonlit hours for days, insisting that it is a sin to hear the call of the deceased. The elders keep insisting that I have never caused them harm, and that I am a good girl who cannot control the gift God has given her.

But the others insist that is was not God who granted me this power.

It’s the same argument everyday. And it’s even more heated at the weekly meetings. They point, they yell, they glare. At each other. At me.

Our peaceful town has been replaced by a horde of madmen.

It’s too much for me to handle, now.

“I’ll leave.”

Half the town is ecstatic. The elders are reluctant to release me from the comforting hold of their arms that has protected me from ridicule since I was a child. Few of those my age actually realize that I am still the girl they loved before the bible came into our lives. They cry, silently when they see me now, packing my bags and preparing to leave all this behind.

Dawn has risen, and I’ve set out, away from the oppressive rule of the stranger’s God and tell myself it’s for the best. I give those who still care one last kiss, and place one “confident” foot in front of the other.

What happens when you don’t come back? Jerry’s voice rings in my head.

I roll my eyes. Don’t be ridiculous. What could possibly happen?

Anything from roadside bandits to drowning in a puddle.

As funny as the image is, I can’t bring myself to laugh. That’s not what I mean. I know I’m not coming back. What do you think could possibly be worse when I don’t come marching home?

He pauses for a moment, sitting in the back of my brain, thinking. Eventually, he comes up with a smirk-worthy answer. They could fall into a delirium.

I shake my head. They’ll move on.

I feel a sigh run through my head and know he is frustrated. You don’t have to do this, you know.

I dodn’t respond; there was nothing to say. He knows I had no choice, but he doesn’t want to believe that this was the only way. His concern would have been sweet, if I hadn’t heard the same thing from all the elders who had come by to chat last night.

Hello? Can you hear me out there?

Who can’t hear you? You’re as loud as a birthing cow.

. . . That was needlessly descriptive.

You’re needlessly noisy. I feel him growl and chuckle despite the cold feeling wrapping around my heart. Relax, will you? Your pacing is making me dizzy.

How did you know I was pacing? He asks suspiciously.

I shrug. I didn’t. I guessed.

He sighs again. You’re being a pain, do you know that?

You’re always a pain, do you know that?

Yes. But what does that have to do with it?

Absolutely nothing, I just want to make sure you know. I tell him with a small smile. The mood settles slightly, and I feel everything relax. There is another town just over the hill. With any luck, the words of a false God hadn’t reached them yet, and I can rebuild my life there.

I can be different.

And hopefully, it won’t be a problem.