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She stared out of the window, her eyes not really focused on anything in particular past the rain spattered glass. She gave a sigh, running her hand over her lower abdomen.
It had been over six months now. She questioned everything. She recounted every detail of that day. She recounted every detail of her life leading up to that day, and she recounted every detail since.
There was no God.
At first, she felt that if there were truly a God, she hated Him for this.
She had been raised a devote Catholic, her husband as well. They were raising their son to love their Lord. They attended mass regularly. She had been taught that God was forgiving and just. If you did wrong, you could seek repentance. Forgiveness. He loved His children with His whole heart. Abide His word. And they had. They had done everything right, she felt.
And then, the accident happened. She was seven months pregnant. A girl. They were so excited, even little Ethan. At first the little boy didn't like the idea of a little sister, but then he had gotten excited with the hopes of being a 'big brother' and the responsibilities it entailed. Even though they had not decided on a name for the coming child, every night at prayer time he included his future sister in his prayers.
Jake had wanted to name her after his grandmother.
The man's car hit them so hard. He was speeding, he was drunk. It was the middle of the afternoon. They had just picked Ethan up from school. He was happily regaling his day to them.
The force of the impact snapped his little neck, despite his car seat. At least he didn't suffer. Jake had lingered in a coma for a week before slipping away.
She lost the baby. A piece of twisted metal had impaled itself through her abdomen. When she woke, her belly hurt so badly. It was swollen, but much flatter than it had been. She asked where her baby was. Their Priest came to see her, as well as others from the church. They prayed for her. They prayed for her dead family. They tried to console her loss.
She was inconsolable. But that sorrow turned to rage.
As she healed and mended, she could do little, as her fragile healing body needed so much rest. She read the morning paper. She watched the television.
More and more the things in the news began to strike at her. War, murder, famine, disease, child abuse and death was everywhere.
Where was her God? Why did He let these things happen? Why were little children made to suffer? Why did He take her family from her? They had lived by His word. They had done everything right. The man, the drunk driver, he was not punished as harshly as she felt he should be. A slap on the wrist. She was told that God would judge him in the end.
That led her to question this God. This man had taken life. And all he had to do to gain entrance into the splendors of Heaven was repent. Seek forgiveness and the Lord would grant it. However, should she take her own life in her sorrows and heartbreak, she would be doomed to roam Purgatory as punishment.
It wasn't right.
When the man was released from his brief stint in jail, returning to his loving family, that's when she stopped.
There was no God. All that was taught to her was a lie. A fable. The bible nothing more than a storybook. There was no God. Religion was a farce. A clever scare tactic.
She stopped attending mass. She started refusing the calls of her Priest and friends from the church. And here she was, cold, hollow, looking out of the window at the rainy day. The autumn leaves were beautiful, but signified they change of seasons. Everything was rotting and decaying.
That night, she took a handful of her medications. All of them. She lay down for sleep. Eternal sleep. She had no fears of purgatory, no hopes of seeing her family again in 'Heaven'. No fear of the wrath of a God that didn't exist.
