Faltered from the Path

I got into my car, tried to calm myself. Those girls, they were nothing but whores, shaking their hips like that, dancing to the music. The devil’s music, my mother would say.

As I drove down Bachman Road, my thoughts went back to those filthy moments and I could not help but notice a tightness in my pants. I tried to busy my mind with Godly thoughts until I reached the church.

The door was locked. I thought about knocking on the door of the minister’s house and saying it is an emergency, but the hour was insane. At four a.m. the devil comes out to play and he chose me to torment. I ran back to the car and drove home.

What made me follow that girl? She seemed so nice, but she was just like the rest of this damned world. I was deceived by her angelic smile, so sweet and innocent. But I did know she was not a virgin, so what was I expecting?

Finally in my room, I picked up the Bible and tried to find solace in the words of Jeremiah, but even the holy images of the Good Book seemed to invoke filth. My hands were itching to commit the unspeakable.

I walked into the bathroom and started the cold water in the shower. My thoughts went back to one hot summer night when I was but a boy of fourteen, when I almost damned myself for all eternity, and the allure of sin was ever so strong. God, why do you test me like this? Why do you condemn me to live in this sinful body?

My eyes wandered to the items on the shelf next to the sink. Among them was a shiny pair of sharp scissors. At four a.m., the devil roams the earth.

I stepped into the cold shower again.

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