Rachel’s Contrition, Chapter 22

Sophia Institute Press

Rachel's brain makes a terrible breakthrough.

Continued from Chapter 21

Rachel’s Contrition


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From deep inside my shell, I sense the room is dark. Someone’s pulled the shades. Somewhere at the tips of my arms, my fingers burn with distant pain; I can’t move my arms. The dark is a mist circling my soul. My screams echo in my head and never make it into the silent room. I can’t get far enough inside to hide from myself. There must be a hiding place somewhere in the dark of my subconscious. But I can’t find one. The mist whispers to me. I can’t escape myself. I can’t escape the words of my subconscious: You know she’s dead.

Yes, I know. Why do you have to keep telling me?

Because you don’t listen. You don’t face it.

Yes, I do. Leave me alone!

Then tell me what she looked like.

I don’t want to.


See what?

You won’t face it.

You sound like Donald Doc. Leave me alone.

He said you have to face this.

I don’t care what he says. He’s an idiot.

Tell me what she looked like.

Okay, she was blue.

Was not.

Was too.

No, she wasn’t. She was red. She was burnt.

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