The Waiting Game
dge of her bed, staring at the glo
t cried i
eless now. Like watering a flower that was already dead. S
lets wolves dre
hen a sixteen-year-old girl is crushe
sts, her nails digg
. Not because she got answers-but because silen
e just
viv
*
ll the sheets over herself. The air was warm, yet she fel
e ceiling and whispered into
er anymore. That sentence felt like something she'd bur
prayer was second nature. When she would whisp
dn't even cl
head once-trusted
arly dest
*
teen when i
urned behind
that smelled like books, aftershave, and old sermons. She remembered his voice
was closed. And the look
ne to him
ut bleeding
e wors
way of shaping her
't screa
eamed every
*
n her chest like it was trying to break free. She'd locked herself in h
rokenhearted and saves thos
he verse until
ispered. "Then
lammed the
last time s
*
t arrive li
ow and steady, until it
church. Stopped prayi
ned to numb her mind with drinks and drown her heart in meaningless b
't care, wh
le drown
into it and let it
*
God is good." Why she changed the subject when anyone mentio
gave the f
n't just about
bout the
ulpit, where no one da
rents, who never notice
ray-who meant well but never asked wh
ilence fr
ow night after night and all sh
*
dge. Half a burger, two cans of soda, and an appl
ppet
oud, unwelcome,
buzzed on
y? Cassandra's mak
He never m
k: No preachi
ching. Just r
d in spite
ppreciated his consistency. His wa
she missed
fety o
th of be
again, the wall of her past stood tal
*
her forehead against the cool glass, a
ny pe
ny st
ng wounds they
g up early to watch the sun creep thro
rs that she had to live through
*
is, her anger softe
here was something wrong with her. Ma
needs a girl to be br
s evil sit in the front
't have
d of pretending
*
sat slowly, like the years
phone again. Stare
ing woul
soft eyes and Gray's gentle qui
be it
she had noth
*
"If You're still up there...
acked. Worn out.
a pr
ite su
. some
ng in t
t maybe, God h