Work Text:
Stephanie Lauter’s mom dies when she is eight. It’s not a surprise to any of them. She was slowly dying of cancer for two years. Two long years as Steph grew up in that too-large house. Her dad was constantly busy between his duties as Mayor, and tending–or throwing money–into Steph’s mom’s treatment. But despite the exorbitant amount of money he put into her treatments, it only delayed the inevitable.
Steph loved her mom. Every morning, she would brush Steph’s hair and pull it back into elaborate hairstyles that Steph hated, but put up with because she loved the time they spent together. Each evening, she would let Steph talk about her day, and smile as she listened to her daughter speak.
At five, just before the summer when she enters kindergarten, Steph makes her first friend: Grace Chasity. They meet at church, which is one of the only times that Steph spends with her entire family. Her mom sings hymns in an angelic voice, her father joins, though more for the reputation than anything else, and Steph gets to go to Sunday School with Grace. They color Biblical coloring pages together and earn stickers for memorizing short verses. Steph listens to the stories and learns about God.
Grace gives her a bible, a pastel green one, that matches her own pink one. They’re too big, too difficult to read, but Grace says that they’ll learn eventually. So Steph likes church. She likes having a friend and her parents and listening to stories and singing songs.
Kindergarten is good. Her mom walks her to school each day, despite her father’s attempts to have them driven. It was just the two of them, against the world. Grace is in her class and it seems like things are going to be okay as she grows up.
A month into first grade is when they get the news: her mom has cancer. Within days, her entire life is upturned. Miss Tessburger drives her to school because her mother is too tired to walk, or to even get out of bed most days. Her father puts her through every available treatment that leaves her bitterly exhausted and snappy when Steph gets too loud, if she’s not passed out.
It’s Steph’s job to brush her own hair, to get her homework done, to stay quiet and not bother the adults in her house. But in all of the chaos, there is one constant: Grace Chasity.
She doesn’t leave Steph’s side. Every day comes with an invite to stay at her house and have a home-cooked meal, granted she leaves before 7:00, which is Grace’s bathtime before bed. She gives up her recess to help Steph make get-well-soon cards and pick little bouquets of flowers. When Steph cries at church, Grace helps her pray to God for her mom’s health. Grace also promises that she and her parents will pray for her mom, and that God will be good to them. Steph believes them.
On good days, she and her mother pray together, kneeling side by side with their hands clasped. On bad days, she creeps around on tiptoes and tries to disappear into the floor. In all of it, however, Steph feels very alone.
Prayer is not enough. Nothing is enough. Faith Lauter dies in October, when Steph is in second grade.
Her father changes. Any trace of softness evaporated, gone with her mom. Steph is eight, and she is alone. She hardly understands, but she tries her best to pray, feeling helpless and ignored by God. Every hymn holds her mother’s voice, her energy, and Steph wants nothing less than to be close to her mother at the moment.
The funeral comes four days after her mom’s death. Steph sees no one in this time, except her dad, and his awful assistant, Miss Tessburger. People drop off meals at the door but she doesn’t feel like eating. They whisper outside her house and she ignores them.
In all the grief, Steph wants three things: her mom to come back, her dad to look at her, and her best friend to be her rock when her father won’t.
The funeral is too quiet. Steph is wearing a black dress, hands tugging helplessly at the fabric in an effort to stay similarly controlled. Her eyes are a red, itchy mess, and her throat feels raw from crying, but the tears stopped sometime around this morning when her dad just looked at her, disappointed, and she felt her heart shut down. The church congregation has appeared around her, but none actually approach.
The lead pastor gives a speech that Steph tries and fails to listen to. Instead, she sits there, staring at the dark brown coffin, and tries one more time to send a prayer to God, because that’s all she knows how to do.
At one point, she tries to reach for her dad’s hand, the awful gaping cavern in her chest so large that she thinks it might swallow her whole, but he pulls his hand out of hers and sets it on his lap. He looks so controlled, if not slightly subdued, while Steph’s world crumbles around her.
So she doesn’t remember much of the funeral speech. People say things that she doesn’t hear, as she stands next to the coffin and stares into nothing.
There is only one thing that she really registers: Grace and her mom are walking over, holding hands. But just before they reach Steph, Mrs Chasity bends down and says something to Grace, that Steph cannot hear. Grace’s expression shifts, puzzled, worried, but her mother continues to speak until she nods.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Stephanie,” Mrs Chasity says, putting a gentle hand on Steph’s shoulder, but it feels foreign and wrong. Still, she does her best to ignore it.
Instead, she shrugs, not sure how she’s supposed to reply. Steph doesn’t want to talk to her–she wants to talk to Grace. Quietly, she stands there, not knowing what to do, but Grace, sweet, kind, devoted Grace, does. She opens her little arms and wraps Steph in a tight, caring hug.
Everything seems to stop at that hug. Steph can feel the tension that has been pulling at her shoulders melt off in Grace’s soft black sweater, and the dam of tears that have swollen up in her chest begin to strain with relief that they can fall.
The hug is shorter than Steph would like, cut off by Mrs Chasity placing a warning hand on Grace’s shoulder that gets her to pull away. The contact is broken and Steph feels a little more satiated then before, but still damaged.
“Thank you,” Steph whispers, the first words she’s spoken since it happened.
Grace hesitates, her eyes darting between Steph and her mother. Mrs Chasity nods and Grace swallows hard, wringing her hands against her dress as she makes uncomfortable eye contact with her best friend.
“Don’t worry about your mom. This is all part of God’s plan. She’s in a better place now.” Grace’s words sound rehearsed. Robotic. So unlike her, except she is the one saying it.
Steph didn’t think her dad would be there for her, but she expected her friend to. The words turn the warm hug she just experienced to pure ice against her skin. She can’t say anything else so she just nods, dumbly, and lets Grace and her mom leave.
The rest of the service is empty. It’s a maudlin affair that leaves Steph without her mom or her dad or her best friend. So she decides that she hates Grace, because out of everyone that day, she thought Grace would support her. Steph thought wrong.
After that, Steph never returns to church. She has no desire to and her father no longer bothers to attend. He offered, just once, on the one anniversary of her mother’s death, and Steph declined it. So they don’t.
The years pass, Steph grows up, and she does not return to church. She does not talk to Grace again. Elementary school turns to middle school and the only thing that remains of their friendship is the pale green Bible that sits on Steph’s abandoned bookshelf. Neither of them mention what happened in their childhood; Grace continues on her path of being a holy child of God, and Steph turns rebellious and firmly against organized religion.
Middle school shifts to high school, and Grace and Steph stay to their own paths. It’s fine. It’s all fine. Steph has friends, sort of. But she’s comfortable enough with them. None of them know what happened at her mom’s funeral. Nobody knows what happened, except Steph and Grace, if she remembers.
By junior year, however, something shifts. Steph stops hanging out with the other popular kids that much, and she and Grace end up on speaking terms once more. Through all this time, Grace has never once let up her bubbly personality and her personal crusade for Christianity. But Steph can handle it enough. Slowly, they begin to form a new bridge together.
Grace is better than most people expect from her. She’s genuinely sweet, passionate about more than just God, just mostly God. She always brings little treats, tiny gifts, for Steph, whenever she feels like it. Every single day comes with a smile, a kind word, a helpful action when Steph is struggling with her homework. Grace never fails to try her best.
But there is the whole… Christian thing. Grace is a lot. The same passion that Steph can appreciate when it comes to working on a project can turn into an infuriating lecture about God and the Bible. They disagree on topics that Steph can debate online for hours, but doesn’t want to get into it with Grace, over her crude speech and apathetic tone to the world. It’s infuriating to sit and bite her tongue, but simultaneously, Grace is one of the only people that Steph really feels like she can talk to.
She’s the only girl at school who doesn’t care that Steph’s dad is rich or powerful. Even though she doesn’t appreciate all of Steph’s opinions, they can normally place them aside to keep a somewhat tepid relationship, even if it’s uncomfortable. Steph lets her get away with a lot of things that she holds her other people online accountable for, because she doesn’t know how to balance the questions of religion with her tepid friendship with Grace.
Week after week, Grace invites Steph to church and she always responds with the same thing, “Maybe next time.”
It makes her feel bad, the way Grace wilts a little bit, and then perks back up afterwards, never beaten down. Steph lets it go, knowing this is who Grace is. Being autistic, (diagnosed her freshman year of high school!) her special interest is Christianity, Jesus, and the Bible, and Steph can’t exactly blame her for that, even when her actions are damaging.
“I know that you stopped coming without your mom, but my parents would be more than happy to drive us both. Your dad doesn’t even have to come with us.” Grace patters on, unaware of the truth behind why Steph stopped coming to church, on another spiel about giving it another try since Steph has grown up.
For years, she’s wondered what’s true. Steph has been questioning all forms of religion for years, yet she still falls short every time. There’s no explanation and she’s not nearly curious enough to do further research. But Grace pushes, again and again, repeatedly, and Steph is starting to feel guilty again, even though she knows she doesn’t owe her anything.
“Okay,” Steph finally says and Grace blinks, hard.
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll go. Once. And then we can see until then.”
The way Grace lights up makes Steph feel a little bit better about the impending doom that begins to weigh down deep within her chest.
“Oh, you’re going to love it!” She jumps up, giving Steph a quick hug that only further reminds her of their last childhood interaction. “My parents will pick you up around 8:45 on Sunday.”
The hug ends too quickly, just like before, and Grace scurries off in excitement as Steph swallows hard, trying to figure out what she’s just signed up for. Well, this is a chance, isn’t it? Her long running curiosity, her confusion, is rising, and she just needs to know.
Sunday comes too soon. Steph drags herself out of bed hours before she normally rises on weekends, runs a brush through her hair, puts on a fraction of her usual makeup so as to not scare off the pure Christians of the church, and then searches her closet for something to wear. Eventually, she settles on a pair of unripped jeans that she hasn’t worn in two years, and a green sweater, and makes to leave because Grace is never late and it’s 8:43, when she spots it.
The Bible from a decade ago has collected a fair amount of dust while sitting on her shelf. But after a brief hesitation, Steph grabs it, brushing off layers of grime, and shoving it into her tote bag.
Sure enough, as Steph is stuffing her feet into a pair of black sneakers that are a little nicer than her others, the Chasity’s white car pulls up to her house. Her phone goes off, a text from Grace that says We’re here!
“I’m leaving!” Steph shouts into the cold abyss of her house, not caring who does or doesn’t hear her, before opening the front door and then slamming it behind her.
“Hello Stephanie. It’s nice to see you again,” Mrs Chasity says as Steph slides into the backseat with Grace.
“Nice to see you again too,” Steph replies, swallowing down the somewhat lie as she buckles into the car.
“I have to say, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen you at church. But it’s never too late to be saved by the Lord,” Mr Chasity says, as he carefully pulls out of the Lauter’s driveway.
“Not since… second grade.” They all know what she means but luckily, none of them bring it up. Instead, they fall into a somewhat awkward silence, broken by the quiet Christian pop that plays over the car’s radio.
Grace hums along to the music, smoothing out her pretty pink dress, and Steph sits there, fiddling with her phone case but not exactly wanting to go on it. She notices that Grace’s parents keep glancing at her, occasionally, in the review mirrors, as if they either distrust or worry about her.
The drive is silent until Mr Chasity parks the car. Steph begins to grab her bag, reaching to unbuckle her seatbelt, when she realizes that the three Chasity’s have gone quiet. Looking around, she realizes that all of them have their heads bowed, hands clasped in front of them, praying.
She freezes, not wanting to intrude on this obviously private moment, but not knowing what to do. Eventually, she settles on just sitting there and waiting until, one-by-one, they raise their heads. Grace comes up from her prayer and smiles at Steph, who forces a little one in return.
Their car prayer session done, they file out to the pristine white building that Steph has been avoiding for the last decade.
“Gracie, take Stephanie to your youth group, and help her out, okay?” Mrs Chasity says, unhelpful but kind as always.
Grace nods, still beaming with excitement and motions at Steph to follow. They enter the church in their own pairs, Grace giving her parents a hug goodbye as Steph awkwardly watches, swallowing down a flare of jealousy. Even though the Chasity parents are a lot, she knows they care, and it’s been years since she’s seen that kind of parental adoration.
The church reminds her of her mom. Steph is engulfed in the memories from the moment she walks in, hands tightening around the strap of her tote bag as she bites on the inside of her cheek, lungs beginning to ache with tangible pain.
The spots where she and her parents stood, talking to other parents, her mom happily socializing and her dad being his typical self. The bench outside the sanctuary where her mother would read her Bible verses before sermons. The steps where they took family photos for Christmas cards.
It’s foreign and familiar and Steph has been avoiding all of it for far too long.
“All good, Steph?” Grace asks, as she turns around, because Steph has frozen in the doorway of the church and is just staring at the building around her.
Somehow, she manages a nod, forcing herself to move up towards Grace. She’s met with a look of a little bit of confusion and worry, but she just looks down, not wanting to address it.
“The youth group meets separately,” Grace explains and Steph knows this all vaguely enough, but she listens anyway, because it’s better than thinking. “You can sit next to me during the sermon. Our youth pastors are Jerry and Jeri.”
Steph’s mom worked with the kids too, sometimes. She would volunteer to read stories to the two-year-old class, and teach them about God and Jesus in a more digestible way, while Steph and Grace would sit together at the back of the sanctuary with Bible page coloring books. Back when everything was good.
“They’re both named Jerry?” Steph asks, trying to sound normal as the memories strangle her, clawing their way up her spine and into her throat, making it hard to speak.
“Girl Jeri is one R and an I. Boy Jerry is two R’s and a Y.”
Steph decides to just accept it and nods. Grace leads her inside to a small room, with a few rows of chairs across from it, and, of course, sits in the middle of the front row. Without much other choice, Steph takes the seat next to her.
From her backpack, Grace removes the old pink Bible, a pencil case of different colored pens and highlighters and pencils, and a notebook. With just a flicker of hesitation, Steph also pulls out the dusty Bible from her own bag. Grace spots the pale green Bible in Steph’s hands and pauses, before recognizing where it’s from.
“You kept it?”
There’s a lump in Steph’s throat, something thick with fear and grief that hasn’t yet kindled. “Yeah. I did.”
She’s met with a look, sweet enough to rot her teeth, as Grace smiles, a pure, gentle grin of appreciation. Grace reaches over and takes Steph’s hand, squeezing it once, tightly.
The other kids have been filing in, nine or so of them. A boy in a light blue sweater, eerily similar to Grace’s favorite vest, takes a seat to the other side of Grace, and smiles.
“Hi Gabe! This is my friend, Steph. She’s ne-” Grace hesitates on the word new, not exactly a truth but not a lie either. “She’s here with me.”
“Nice to meet you.” Gabe smiles, reaching out a hand and Steph shakes it, but there’s something almost plastic about this boy. His smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes, the same eyes that keep flicking back to Grace. Still, she nods, giving him a strained smile in return, then secretly wiping her hand on her jeans when he turns away.
The sit in silence for a few long moments, before Grace turns to Steph. Her eyes are bright with hope and something in Steph’s stomach twists with anxiety.
“Can I pray for you before we begin?”
The question is blatantly uncomfortable and Steph wants to spit out a “no,” but she holds her tongue and just nods. Grace reaches out, clasping Steph’s hands in her own. Her hands are warm, almost too warm, as Grace shuts her eyes. Steph does not.
“Father God,” Grace begins, her voice low but firm, “thank you for bringing Steph to Your house of worship today. Please open her heart to hear Your good word. After these years, allow her the understanding of You and Your story. I appreciate Your goodness in bringing Steph along her glorious journey to You.”
Steph swallows hard, stomach churning. She gnaws on the inside of her cheek, breathing slowly through her nose. Grace looks so earnest, relaxed as Steph struggles to not yank her hands from Grace’s. Their hands are sweaty, pulsing with heat as she forces herself to hold still.
“I ask for Steph to learn the truth and to understand Your holy ways. Allow her to seek forgiveness and turn towards You in times of need.”
It feels so incredibly wrong. Steph tenses the muscles in her legs, wanting to stop them from trembling. Insects scramble over the burning veins beneath her flesh, squirming with life.
“We thank and bless You with all of our hearts. In Your holy name, amen.”
“Amen,” Steph repeats, her voice barely a whisper, as Grace withdraws her boiling hands back to her lap with a bright smile
They fall silent again, sheltered in their own thoughts. Steph’s chest is tight with anxiety before the sermon even begins.
Boy Jerry and Girl Jeri turn out to be over-the-top youth leaders, and Steph doesn’t really know how to feel about that, besides being uncomfortable. Still, she copies Grace and follows the sermon relatively well.
They start with a silent prayer time, in which Steph watches Grace from the corner of her eye as she bows her head but stares, trying to figure out what she’s supposed to do. Then, they sing two songs, one of which is straight daggers to the chest because it was her mother’s favorite, and Steph doesn’t sing either, but she hums a little bit and listens to the words, plus Grace’s sweet voice instead.
After that they pray again, but this time Steph bows her head, clasps her hands together, and shuts her eyes, feeling like a complete outcast. She has to at least try, she thinks.
Uh, hey God. I-I’m back, I guess. It’s been a while.
She doesn’t know what to “talk” about with God. She has years of anger built up at him and that doesn’t seem like the right thing to put into a prayer. But she also doesn’t think she should ask for anything, since she’s new to this stuff, and she doesn’t want to thank him for the way her life has gone. So instead, she just stands there, awkwardly waiting for the silence to be over.
After the prayer, they pass around a basket that the other kids place bills or coins into, that they call “offerings.” Steph hesitates for a second before she pulls out her wallet and puts a crumpled twenty-dollar-bill into it, thinking maybe it’ll help because she’s been gone for over a decade, and handing the basket to the girl next to her.
They sing again when the basket has been passed, and then they read a “confession” of faith that Steph secretly thinks is ridiculous because why are they reading this repentance as a group? The words feel fake but she says them quietly anyway, because it’s the “right” thing to do, even though it leaves a pit in her stomach as she talks about being selfish and greedy.
Steph doesn’t think she’s a saint by any means, but degrading herself in such a way cuts her down and she’s feeling a little sick by the time Boy Jerry begins to read his sermon.
He starts with a Bible verse that Steph misses most of, because she can’t find the right chapter in her Bible and apparently everyone else knows the order of the books, but she doesn’t. Grace notices her struggling and then just shares hers, but it’s covered in different annotations in varying shades of pink, with squiggles and lines and circles and highlighting on every few words, making it too distracting to read.
So far, Steph has felt nothing but out of place, and somehow nobody has said anything about it to her.
After the reading, Girl Jeri joins her counterpart at the little podium in the front of the dark room and the two of them begin to give their sermon.
“We know and accept that we are children of God. That means we’ll go to Heaven, won’t we?” Boy Jerry asks, his rhetorical question hanging in the air.
“Yes, it does,” Girl Jeri continues, “but not because we follow Christ.”
Steph doesn’t understand where this point is going, because it sounds far too contradictory, but before she can figure it out, they continue.
“None of us deserve to go to Heaven. We don’t deserve any mortal pleasures, and most certainly not eternal pleasures either.” At this, Steph shifts in her seat, the scrutiny beginning to eat at her resolve to try church again, like little ants taking bites from her head and crawling around inside of her brain like a threat.
“You cannot think that you are a good person, because you aren’t.” Boy Jerry’s words are just straight mean and Steph knows she’s staring at him, but she’s too stunned by his blunt cruelty to avoid it. “You are the lowest of the low. Compared to our Lord, you’re nothing more than gunk on the bottom of His shoes, that should be treated as such.”
Risking a glance over at Grace, Steph realizes that she seems to absorb the words with energy, like she wants to understand it.
“You are sinners. God is gracious enough to allow you to be saved, and you cannot earn that.”
It all feels wrong. Steph’s skin is crawling with filth, with how the disgusting words settle across the room and nobody bats an eye. They nod, some of them taking notes, Grace with her multicolored pens and highlighters, as if these are the most important words known to mankind, because to them, it is.
“God could be cruel, if He wanted to, and we would all deserve it. We are sinful, decrepit people, who deserve the pits of Hell, to burn alive for all of eternity. God takes mercy on us, from His good heart, for He is a kind and forgiving God.”
She doesn’t understand how they listen to this. Steph stares at Jerry and Jeri, swallowing down the acid that threatens to bubble over her lips and spew across the room with disgust. Each word makes her feel filthy, disfigured, until she can question it. Even then, it hurts.
Inside, Steph is split: she wants to believe in God, she wants to put her faith in a higher power if only because it connects her to her mother and she’s terrified to know what comes after death; she also knows that she cannot put her doubts aside after the torture she’s been through at the hands of a so-called loving God.
“He loves us, which is why we must suffer. God knows that He cannot just hand us good things, for we are undeserving of them.”
Steph can only think of her mom. How much she suffered through dozens of horrible treatments and how she died in a multitude of pain, leaving her daughter to bear the grief of her death. Her mother died believing that this God had a plan and she would go to a glorious, joyous place after her death. Steph would like to believe that, and simultaneously doesn’t know if she can .
“That is why we repent.”
How? How can she repent? Steph’s entire life has been layers of sin and hate and bitterness, and she doesn’t know where each action lies. Fury tastes like ash on her tongue, twisting like little flames up and down her throat as she tightens her hands around that pastel green Bible.
“We as mortals shall suffer for our sins. That’s why we face death, sickness, and grief. It is a punishment for our actions as sinful children of the Lord.”
Punishment. As if her mom deserved to be punished after being the kindest, most selfless, caring person in the entire world. The words bubble up in streaks of lava up and down her throat until she can’t contain it any longer. Jerry takes a breath, prepared to continue, and she lets it free.
“That is such bullshit!” Steph snaps, and every single church kid goes completely silent, turning to look at her.
“Steph-”
“No, Grace. I can’t sit here and listen to this crap anymore. Do you hear what they’re saying? How can you believe this shit?”
“It’s in the Bible,” Grace begins, and Steph hears her bitter laugh that escapes her lips. It sounds cruel. It sounds like her.
“The proof of God is in a book that his followers wrote? Does that make fucking Batman real because of the comics? We treat Greek gods as myths. What makes this so different?”
The words spill out, from years of repressed thoughts. From all the times she bit her tongue and let Grace believe whatever she wanted, purely for her friend. All of the things she never said come out in a fit of fury.
“He made a tree of sin, put it in a garden, with people who didn’t understand what sin was, since they had never experienced it. And didn’t he create Satan? Why would he do that? Why wouldn't he just stop them or not even give them the opportunity to mess up–isn’t he supposed to be in control of everything? That doesn’t sound like part of his plan to me.”
“You don’t understand,” Jeri begins, and Steph scoffs.
“Then make me.”
She begins to ramble, bringing up passages, verses, examples, historical facts, all things that mean absolutely nothing to Steph. It’s wasteful. What’s the point? Instead, she shoves herself out of her chair, rising to her feet. Steph looks around at the other teens, the ones who cling onto these beliefs, and scowls at them, as they look back with some kind of awed expression. “I can’t believe you all sit here and believe this crap.”
Grace looks at her, eyes welling with tears, a mix of anger and sorrow. Indignant rage flashes across Steph’s vision and she brings the blade down, not caring what kind of tethered ties it flays.
“This stupid goddamn church has been infecting you all. I mean–why do I even try?” Steph can feel her own voice wavering, which is stupid because she’s not supposed to be the delicate one. “I used to go, if any of you can remember. My mom took me every Sunday until she was so sick that she couldn’t get through a sermon anymore. I sang with you all. I colored pictures of the Garden of Eden and Johnathan and the Whale.”
“It was Jonah,” Gabe corrects and Steph shoots him with a glare, laced with arsenic, and he withers, shutting his mouth.
“I memorized the stupid Bible verses and recited them with you all. I listened to sermon after sermon. I prayed on my knees with the rest of you for my mother to heal. And you want to know what I got back?”
Nobody replies. They’re all mesmerized by Steph’s outburst. One of quaking anger and trembling fury, of stinging tears in her eyes, and a shaking voice.
“I was told ‘it’s all part of God’s plan’ from you.” Steph spits the words out, staring at Grace. The other girl is frozen in place. “My prayers were hopeless. He took her from me. The only person who ever loved me was stolen by your so-called “loving God” for nothing.
“That’s not God’s fault-” Another random church girl with little pigtails on the other side of the room speaks up. This isn’t right. Steph bulldozes through her with ease.
“Then who the hell is it?” The words are shouted, torn from the deepest pits of betrayal that Steph has been lingering on for ten years. “Because who else can you blame, then?”
The tears fall. Steph gives up on trying to quell them. She’s too tired of trying.
“You sit here and say that God is good. That he provides, when all he’s done in my life is take. I lost my mom and the church acted like it was all part of God’s plan-”
“Get out.” Jerry stands, finally cutting Steph off. “We tried to teach you but clearly, you aren’t ready to listen to His word.”
Steph stares daggers down at him, but she can feel its diminished returns from the tracks of tears that line her cheeks. However, she yanks her gaze from him to Grace who is still frozen in place.
“Are you going to say anything?” she snarls, and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Grace says, but she’s timid. She won’t look Steph in the eye, her hands gripping the edges of her pink dress tightly. “The Church is that house of the Lord-”
Steph has heard enough. She spins around on her heel, shoving the door open and then slamming it shut. Her trembling hands scrub the tear tracks from her cheeks as she sets off down the hall of the church towards the doors.
“Oh, Stephanie-” Mrs Chasity pauses when she sees Steph’s expression “-did you enjoy-”
Her words are lost as Steph storms through the doors and into the too-bright sunlight outside. She doesn’t have a car, doesn’t have a way home, doesn’t have anything but the stupid Bible and a chest full of aching coals that simmer with grief.
Speaking of which, she doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want the memory of her mother, of the church, of Grace, to live with her any longer. She’s given enough. It’s not worth it anymore.
Anger sends molten lava bubbling through her veins, hot spikes of fire bursting through her bloodstream. The Bible in her hands is flimsy and flammable. Gone is her desire to reconnect with her mother, to listen to Grace, to understand Christianity. Steph looks at the Bible in her hand, too pristine, yet aged. It’s nothing. She’s made it worth nothing.
It happens too quickly. Steph reaches through the first pages, digging her nails into the paper as she rips the first dozen or so from the spine. They flutter down from her grasp, thin black ink spelling lies. Her tears are sharp as she claws the book apart, yanking pages out and tearing them to shreds as she stumbles away from the church.
A trail of destruction is left in her wake, torn pages holding onto whatever faith she once had, now stolen by dusty time and cruel winds. Once again, Steph runs from the church, looking back but being unable to return.
She won’t go back. Screw Grace Chasity and the church and her father and her mother and religion and all things holy and glorious and gone. Chances are thrown into the air. She’s tried more than anyone can understand and she won’t any longer. Stephanie Lauter has given more to the church than she ever should have, and has gotten nothing back in return. If that’s what Grace and the others want to claim religion is, then Steph will take no part in it.