A Pastor's Daughter's Diary

Attacked

Dear Jesus,

My eyes shot open from my dreamless sleeping state. The room was dark, much darker than normal. Still lying on my bed, I turned and checked the neon green lights of my alarm. It was just 12:56am.

Something wasn't right. I could sense it, but I didn't know what.

As I sat up in bed, It came, like the whamming of a baseball bat, full force, on me. Hot, searing pain like that of pins spread through the  cavity of my tummy.

I gasped at the intensity of the pain. It was so sudden that I involuntarily clenched my teeth tightly, missing biting my tongue by a tiny inch.
Now I know what gnashing of teeth means, and I must say, it's a horrible action. All vestiges of grogginesss was flung out my window.

Jesus!

The pain increased, spreading like claws and tendrils of strangling vines through my entire body. I felt like I would die. I had to remind myself to breathe.

Clutching my middle which felt like it was being mopped with white hot coals, I rolled off the bed unto the floor and started crawling and squirming all the way to my door. The door suddenly seemed like a whole universe away.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I cried, my voice muffled to a whimper.

Upon reaching my door, I reached out to open the handle. A searing pain cut through my tummy. I yelped in pain.

Using grit determination and the last ounce of strength left in me, I managed to pull down the door knob and slither over to my parents room. I was passing out and waking up intermittently.

I gave a feeble knock on their door, too feeble to be heard by even the buzzing mosquitoes. If anything, I wanted the door to be automatically torn down, but that was as impossible as asking a mango tree to be uprooted by an ant.

Oh Lord!
I passed out again. I was seeing white and black.

Dad is not a deep sleeper. Somehow, by a divine miracle, he must have heard me.

He opened the door and was shocked to see a very weakened and pain-ridden version of his dear daughter sprawled on the tile floor.

Out of sheer relief, I let go and fell into unconsciousness. The last thing I remembered was his hands carrying me and his voice calling Mom to wake up.
~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is Saturday, and oh how I wish I could begin this entry with a lovely opening like: 'The sun was up, bright and shinning, the birds in all their chirping frenzy were flitting through the window to my balcony door to alert me of the new dawn, I woke up in my bed...'

Alas! My morning was more like: 'I was awoken by sounds of people in my room, one being my Dad still praying; another being Kathy seated by my bedside, fighting sleep; and the last of the trio being my very own Mom, hovering over me like a bumblebee.'

And oh! You might be wondering about the handwriting. It's beautiful, isn't it?

Actually, I'm not the one writing. It's Kathy. I can't write, so she's helping me to transcribe what I'm saying. And she's pretty fast at it too.

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Kathlyn Taylor: Hello Jesus! I have never thought of this idea of writing personally to you, but I think it is a fabulous idea. Maybe I'll try it too. I'll sure add more glitters and diagrams to mine. Words alone are kinda boring.

The last time I slept over with Ray, I saw her writing in this big pink journal but I just thought it was a normal secret diary thing, we girls do. I feel so honored she allowed me to write in her special diary. I feel like I'm intruding into something very sacred. Is it alright that I am very curious to know what she has been writing so far? I mean, this is huge.