[Wow that was quick!] I thought as I raise my head to discover all my other classmates have already left.
Grabbing my backpack off the desk I begin to ease myself out of the chair.
To my surprise, I realize that I couldn't move!
There was no glue, there was no tape, but my body refuse to part ways with the seat. Suddenly, as if being fast forward, the classroom door zoom to my face, stopping inches away from my nose. My hair flutter back from the breeze it carries.
Darkness envelope the room.
The door swing open and Mr. Parker, my class teacher, stood glaring at me. Pants-less. The light that enters the room from the open door, reveal the nastiest smirk on his face. Swiftly he strike, lunging at me while he raise a hand to my mouth.
I was still screaming no when my eyes shot wide open, and I discover that I am fighting with the sheets. I lay tangle in them as the reality of my room brings relief.
“It's just a nightmare,” I repeat several times; my night shirt now drench in sweat. 4:30 A.M. according to the clock on my night stand. I might as well get up; another hour or so and the sun will be out.
[Why do I still keep having these stupid dreams?] I ponder as I brew my cup of chamomile tea. [Am 31 damn it... and here I am thinking the therapy is working! I've been to all these so-call professionals, and I'm still broken.]
[I still have not forgive.]
Almost missing the chair by mere inches, I absent-mindlessly sit with the cup of warm comfort in my hands. I took a sip as I continue the battle I am having with my thoughts.
[There are still restless nights, crying days, and dysfunctional relationships. I've been to the hypnotist, a psychotherapist, and a psychiatrist. I even saw a Pastor! I know they're qualified, the certificates on the walls proved it.]
The thin film of tear that coated my eye balls brake free and rush down my cheeks as disappointment takes over.
[They were suppose to make me better....make me forget....make me forgive. Yes their therapy and medication soothe a little, but I still got this big hole in my heart.]
Sobbing now, my body shake. My chin slowly made contact with my chest as I reluctantly come to terms with the known fact that I have been fighting so hard to deny. I had stopped believing in Him. I was too frustrated, too angry. How could He allow Mr. Parker to do such a thing to me years ago? I was just an innocent young boy.
Sliding off the chair to the kitchen floor, I get down on my knees. I know what I need to do. I have an overdue inescapable appointment with the expert of all experts.
Footnote: Fiction. (I had the thoughts in Italics but it's not appearing so I used brackets in the story.)
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