Garder mon Ame

God died on the gurney that day along with her best friend.

The flashing lights, reds like the fires of hell and blues like a lulling ocean – a contrast that was amusing to Ardin much later – were what piqued her inquisitiveness at first, curiosity that entwined its hand with hers, beckoning with a slight finger and sadistic smile to come and observe the spectacle. It guided her through the concealing darkness, whispering, “Come see, o stolen child. Come understand what is life.” She sauntered only a few steps, but these few feet were all that were needed for the silhouettes of the police cars and white nurses and despairing people to solidify; these few feet were all that were needed for Ardin to let out a torturous scream.

She wished she had not seen her best friend dead on that gurney.

Cold concrete opened its maw and swallowed Ardin’s body as she collapsed, tears spilling to join the display, the image of her friend’s limp body and raw throat refusing to leave her mind.

And in that indelible, never-fading picture stood God, laughing as he hugged her friend’s soul to his decaying body, eyes sparkling with malevolence. With worship wasted and adoration abandoned Ardin sobbed as she realized her God, the one she had loved, the one she had admired, was gone.

God had taken her friend.

And she wanted revenge.