“I’m soaked in my lulling tears,” I cried to my cousin, as I stood shaking, and fell to my knees, covering my eyes with my hands.
Kneeling down, she grabbed a hold of me, helped me to my feet, and said, “This isn’t over, honey. There will be justice for what happened to your brother. You can’t take revenge on the guy who did this to your brother, but you can let the law take over and work for you.”
“That’s not good enough,” I shrieked, with tears gushing from my eyes like a typhoon. I walked away from her, and headed down to the sanctuary of the hospital, because I wanted to be alone.
My cousin started to follow me, when I turned around, help out my hand, saying, “No. This is something I need to do on my own.”
“But you are in no condition to be on your own right now,” she cried, with tears streaming down her eyes, “You need to be with family right now. You should be with family. Don’t do this on your own. You don’t need to.”
“I need a break from my family right now,” I shrieked, “My family is suffocating me to the point of my starting to lose my mind. Where was the rest of my family members when violence and abuse was taking place in my household. You all knew it was going on, but you turned a blind eye,” and I turned away, walking onward on my own.
Upon entering the sanctuary, I walked up to the alter where I fell to my knees and prayed, “Dear God, please make my brother come back to life. I know you can do it. In the Holy Scripture it tells of how you brought Lazarus back to life. If you can do that for him, then you can do so for my brother. Please, God. You brought this wrath upon my family that’s been there from the time before I was born. I was born into violence. My world has been filled with fear ever since I came to live with my parents at 5 ½ years old, because when I was born, they wanted my maternal aunt, uncle and grandmother to raise my brothers and me until we were all out of diapers.”
My breathing was heavy, as I panted so hard, trying to catch my breath. I keeled over, dropping my head to the floor, and cried even harder, “Please end my suffering, God. Why must you continue to give me nothing but grief, sorrow, and suffering. I never done anything wrong in my life to deserve this. I deserved to have parents who actually cared, not the violent tyrants you gave to me. How could you be considered an all loving God, when you put me through hell and back. I still haven’t made it out, because I know when I go home tonight, I will still have to live with my parents. I will have to see there faces even after the funeral two days from now. And when my cousins have left, it just me, my surviving brother, and my parents. I can’t go through with that, God. How can I continue to live, knowing my other brother is dead, and gone from the world?”
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015