Are you there, God?

I asked the question again. Not that I expected an answer. God had turned His back on me the day I was born. What would make me think that He'd come back? If He existed at all, which I seriously doubted. "God is love. God is light." Yeah, right. All I'd ever experienced from His people was hatred and isolation. Anything but love and light and all that crap that goes with it. It's all a tangled mess of lies and hypocrisy.

Hello? Anybody up there?

Sure, I'd been raised Catholic, but I didn't give a damn about my soul. If He really was up there, He'd have helped me long ago. I didn't find Him after the accident. He never came after the sickness. My soul was worthless, anyway. Nobody gave a shit about me, why should I stay here any longer?


I stared at the gun clutched in my right hand, then the note in my left. Was this really the right choice? Of course it was; why would I want any different? I lifted the barrel and set the tip of the cool metal against my skull.