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Part Two / Chapter Nineteen
To Yurina, stained glass windows were the prettiest feature of chapels. Every time she was in one, she'd always admire them, especially when the sun seeped through them and illuminated the inside.
Even though the darkest times of her life were inside the four stained glasses walls, she still appreciated the beauty.
She'd prefer to stare at the windows instead of whoever was being beaten next. The images of events taken place thousands of years prior to her existence (if any of them actually happened) was her idea of a window out of Millrose. Escaping the irony of her life was impossible, the longer she sat in a chapel, the less she believed anything that was told to them was true.
The stories in the Bible of Jesus, Mary, Joseph. Every single day in Millrose, she was force fed lies, punched with proclamations of repentance and contrition.
These days she was having an internal battle with herself "her" religion. God was always dealing the playing field in her life, saddened of the road she'd decided to take, according to priests in Millrose. That the devil — Satan himself! — had chosen her to corrupt, to dehumanize and rot with his touch and it was God's followers job to fix her. And by fix her, they meant beat and torment her into submission. Doesn't seem very holy now does it?
Do you know the advantage of not believing in anything at all? You have nothing to feel guilty for.
Now, entering this chapel to see Chrissy for the last time was another twist of that fucking knife in her gut. The stained glass cast a shade of gold, she loved when it did that. Warming and maternal. Seeing that everyone had taken their seat already, she felt on display as she walked toward the first empty seat she could find.
As the priest continued his eulogy, she felt Chrissy's Mom's eyes burrow into the side of her head. Glossy and tired, pain stained her eyes red as she sniffled into her handkerchief. "I'm sorry, Father. May I?"
The blonde-haired woman took the stand, her eyes trailing over Yurina and someone sitting behind her. She didn't want to turn her head, she didn't want to display and sort of disrespect in front of a grieving mother. So, Yurina just sat there, watching Mrs. Cunningham watch her.
"Yurina, my Chrissy would always talk about you, all the time. I know this seems hasty, but could you. . . could say a few words about her?"
You can't say no to that. How could she? She'd probably end up just as disgraced as Eddie if she refused to speak at Chrissy's funeral, so Yurina stood up. "I'd be honored, Mrs. Cunningham." A ray of light shining through the stained glass illuminated the photo of Chrissy beside her coffin, smiling, but Yurina could only imagine her broken and bruised body laying inside.
