𝖨𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖦𝗈𝖽

I’ve always wondered why Eli did what he did.

What pushed him to the edge of his sanity that his only option for relief was executing his own murder?

A one-man tragedy, his own blood staining both the victim and killer.

I wonder…

How bad was life that he chose death over it?

And why didn’t I see it?

Why didn’t I pick up on the signs when I was there all along, witnessing the very moments he was helplessly shielding the walls of his castle from the merciless waves.

How?

How did God not hear his pleading that night? And how did he not hear mine as well as I plead for Eli’s life? Was he too far gone fulfilling other people’s prayers or did he simply not care?

Why?

Why is aunt Ruth offering condolences to mom when I just overheard her telling the elders of the church that Eli is going to hell? And why is mom crying when she was the one screeching at the top of her lungs for Eli to just die that night?

Why?

Why do I look up at the cross and feel nothing but bubbling, simmering hatred at the pit of my chest; the gurgling reverberating within; loud enough to rattle my bones, strong enough to shake my faith.

And Eli…

he didn’t get to have an open casket funeral.

Dad says it was for Eli’s own dignity. But no.

Fuck no.

It wasn’t.

It was just another lie on top of a million other lies they had told to bury their own guilty conscience.

No.

It wasn’t only Eli’s hands that were bloodied, it took a whole village to do the killing.

Including mine.

Including god’s.