I can remember the very first time I prayed to God. Sincerely. The first time I said, “dear God…” hopeful that he was there.
For someone who doesn’t believe in God, I look back and wonder why I prayed?
Why in a time in need did I seek intervention from an entity I do not believe in?
When no one else could save me, why did my mind go there?
Was it because I was at the end of my hope?
Was it because I don’t believe that he would let me learn such a life lesson? If he existed, that is.
I can still smell, no, taste the air. A mixture of cheap, sickly sweet alcohol and the acidity of cologne, all masked in dangerous lust. The iron taste of my split lip.
One minute things were fine, next I was alone with them. My boyfriend and two of his friends. I don’t even know what happened next, or how. And then I heard the noise. The noises. The ripping sound of material, the unfastening of clothes, the zips, the murmers and laughter.
And the words – a murmer ending in “yourself to blame.”
And so I froze. This could not be happening. Yet it was. And it did. I froze but my mind was running at a million miles per hour.
With the strength drained out of me, my body like lead, fingers over my mouth, I prayed. I begged for God to intervene and make it stop. That I’d believe from now on, and I apologised profusely for not believing beforehand. Just do anything to make it stop.
Maybe prayers don’t work, if you use yourself and faith as a bargaining chip? Maybe I wasn’t praying correctly? What were the words that were needed? Was there a waiting line?
Maybe after being picked on for all these years, and being told I was going to hell for not believing, was true, and I was getting a taste of it. In that room, by people I knew, my body just a ragdoll to their agenda. To their movements.
Well needless to say God didn’t show up in the hour or so of hell that happened. Not since. I learnt that miracles don’t happen. I learnt that not believing suited me, and that if there was/is a God, then I understand, no hard feelings from me but we view life and the living differently.
I get it, if I couldn’t save myself, neither could he.