Holy one, Holy light

Emmanuel awoke in the morning and rolled over shoving his face in his pillow. It felt too early to soon to be time to wake up. As soon as he sat up he went sore. He hissed in pain and looked at his arms, which were covered in cuts and dried up blood. He took his fingers and began to flake off the large dried up pieces of blood, wincing with pain.

He arose from his bed, scratching the sleep from his eyes and looked at the damage he had done that night. It was amazing. He couldn't even believe he had done that to himself and his room. Posters were torn from the wall; blood stained his sheets and pillows.

"Man…" He paused and looked at himself in the mirror, "I really did a number on myself" He ran his hands gently over his chest, and the deep wounds that were upon it.

Walking slowly to his dresser, wincing with pain in every step, he looked for a pair of baggy pants and a long sleeved T-shit. He prayed as he put his clothes on that his mother wouldn't notice. He began to cry because he was so afraid of what she'd do if she found out.

She wouldn't understand the bound he now had with Jesus, now that he had taken some of the pain Jesus felt onto himself. He now knew what it felt like to be uncomfortable and sore. He felt special. He sniffed and wiped his nose of the back of his hand.

A smile crept onto his face slowly, as he stared at himself in the mirror. He was proud.

No, but no one could know what he was doing, because if they did, they would make a fuss because they just didn't understand. Emmanuel felt like maybe he was the only faithful follower of Jesus he really knew. He didn't know anyone else who would have been brave enough to take the pain he took. He felt brave, and proud.

The pain had given him a sorta high he'd never felt before in his whole life.

He felt so close to god that he could feel his arms around him.

He ran into his bathroom and brushed his teeth, trying to make himself look as presentable as he could.

As he walked downstairs he could already feel how hot the day was gonna be. But, he was gonna have to ignore that. He ran back upstairs, shoved on some more deodorant, and went downstairs for breakfast.


He got to school around the time the first bell rang. He got to his classroom and sat down, being weary of whom he sat by. He didn't wanna sit by anyone he thought of as a sinner,

Because he didn't want their sin to rub off on him.

And sure… everyone was sinner, he knew that, even…….

He….. Was... but he just didn't wanna sit by anyone who seemed extra sinful.

He sat next to a small girl who wore a little gold cross around her neck. He smiled at her, "I like your necklace" he said, but she just looked at him like he was crazy for even talking to her, and just nodded and looked away quickly.

He saw his old friends looking at him from across the room. They were much like him in appearance, longer hair, grungy looking, band t-shirt, stoner types who just generally seemed angry. Only a day ago he had been just like them, but now, he was so ashamed that he had ever been like them and had the urge to cut.

They looked at him weirdly and waved him over. They were smiling suspiciously, wondering why he hadn't come over to sit by him. He turned his body and ignored them.

He didn't wanna associate with those 'types' anymore.

The class began and they started to take notes on the Civil War. The door opened and in walked a girl who had cherry red hair and a short black skirt on. She smacked her gum loudly as she entered, and shoved a class transfer at the teacher. The teacher looked at her and smirked, then pointed at the seat behind Emmanuel.

The teacher looked up from his book briefly to introduce her. "Everyone this is Stephanie Brendon," he said monotonely.

The rocker boys watched her walk to her seat and made rude suggestions at her quietly and snickered. She rolled her eyes and sat down, ignoring them like she was used to the comments. Emmanuel swallowed hard and tried to ignore the feeling she gave him in his stomach. He couldn't allow him to think such a devil girl to be pretty. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to ignore it.

She tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, got a pen?"

His whole body shivered when she touched him, and she even noticed. He didn't even turn around and answer him. "Freak" she mumbled under her breath and asked someone else. Emmanuel sighed in relief. He didn't care if she called him a freak; he knew he'd be in big trouble if he let himself associate with a girl like her.

Like the old saying goes… the devil comes to man in the shape of a woman.


Eh I dunno how good this is, but at least I updated. I'd been meaning too.