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People noticed how much Michael changed when he returned for the final of catholic school. He was quieter and didn’t care much for his religion. Teachers and staff only forced the things they believed in onto him even more. Students and all his past friends avoided him like the plague. Influenced by Satan, they believed he was.
Michael knew that if people could have their way with him, he’d be chained up and starved in a cold stone basement beneath the church. He is unworthy to join the saints in heaven. And when he’d die, he would see Lucifer in hell, burning in the fires of torture and blood.
Still, he will be chained up for eternity to suffer.
Long ago, Michael had beautiful blue eyes, but those once bright eyes were now dull, with no signs of life. His grades dropped, and no matter how hard Michael tried he would never be smart enough to impress or please the people around him. Though at this point in time, he never felt the motivation to try. How hard Michael wanted it to be their fault, that they were the ones to put him here, but he knew he was always destined to be where he is now.
His fate was sealed the moment he was born.
He stayed in his dorm the majority of the time, looking up at the pictures of patron saints covering his wall. He thought that sometimes, they were staring back at him, calling him a fool. The photos laughed at him, and every day they told Michael he would never be able to visit heaven.
Over time, he truly believed he was an unworthy fool.
Being so deep in thought, he barely noticed a figure stalking over to the desk on the opposite side of the room. It was Jack, his roommate and childhood best friend (also his neighbor).
They stayed silent, tension bearing in the room. His lungs were stuffy, and he felt like it was impossible to breathe. Suffocating in his own bed, right next to the saints that were disappointed in him.
Until his roommate spoke up, he breathed in the air, “Why is the window open, it's freezing in here!”
Angry, he was. As always, he was so mad at him. His voice stuttered; the blonde boy didn’t wait for a response anyway.
Jack struggled to close the old creaky window but when he finally managed to, it snapped down with a loud bang, and Michael tried not to flinch.
He continued back to his chair with a sigh, while Michael stayed silent on his bed, like a rabbit waiting to be eaten by the wolf. His roommate, his maybe-ex-best friend was the wolf.
He wouldn’t have noticed a black-and-white photo of a big fluffy dog on Jack’s desk if he hadn’t looked up.
“A dog?” Michael voiced his thoughts out loud, not on purpose, he just had to hope that he wouldn’t be in trouble for looking at other people's things.
But he wasn’t mad, he clucked as he took the photo in his hand.
“My mom found him outside her workplace the other day, she said he was tied to a pole and abandoned.” Jack’s smile subsided a little, but the happiness in his brown eyes never left.
“It’s terrible, that he was left there,” Michael thought it was sad that he could relate to an abandoned dog. He felt as though he was abandoned by anyone around him on countless occasions.
“Sure, it's terrible, and I might be selfish for this but I'm happy he was left there, now he's happy in a new house. My mom says he is settling just fine.”
He didn’t believe it was selfish to think like that he thought it was sweet.
He chewed the inside of his mouth, “I remember…” he paused, searching for the proper words. “You’ve always loved dogs.”
The wolf’s smile grew wider, he didn’t feel like much of a rabbit now. And the boy across him didn’t look much like a wolf, but he knew that it wouldn’t last for long. Angry wolves would always pounce on their prey, a dark brown rabbit, and chew on its bones till the small being stopped squealing.
“Do you also remember my favorite breed?” Jack spoke the words like they were old friends that haven't seen each other in years, both busy with their respective jobs and wives.
Luckily, he recalled it. It was hard not to, especially since he remembered everything, he ever knew about him. He knew his favorite color, favorite band and favorite dog breed.
He rested his head on the wall behind him, trying to hide the stress he felt.
“Saint Bernard, just like the one you had when you were young.” A strong dog he was, always pushing over the kids he tried to play with, never fully knowing the amount of muscle that he had on his body. Jack and Michael always loved to hide and bury their small faces in the dog's white and brown fur.
“You have a good memory.” Too well, he wanted to say, but the words never left his dry mouth.
Jack clutched the photo of the Saint Bernard in his hands, leaning it on a cup that held pencils and pens for the world to see. The conversation ended as quickly as it began. Both went to do their own thing.
The boy across the room, wrote things down on a packet of papers, most likely doing work that teachers assigned him. He should be doing the same, but he felt too tired, feeling the need for sleep overcome him.
Throughout the night, he dreamt of his mother, people knew her as a sweet woman who adored and cherished god.
She even named her baby boy a name from her religion.
Her son believed she put too much faith in God, that maybe one day he would let her down and he’d be left to pick up the pieces. She thought otherwise, forcing him to believe in the same man. However, he never felt the same fondness for him. He was left feeling guilty because of this and wanted to believe in him so badly, but he never could figure out how to.
He wondered if maybe he’d been given the chance to know himself first, to value and love himself first, he could worship his creator, just like his mother and everyone else he ever knew did.
When Michael was younger, he would sit up against his bed and pray, he’d ask the saints and God to allow him to love himself, even if it was only a little bit. If Michael couldn’t love himself, how could he do the same for anyone else?
More importantly, Michael felt he needed to love himself before he could accept the religion. Or maybe this was just an excuse, deep down inside himself, Michael knew he’d never cherish the saints or God more than actual people that lived on the same planet as he did.
His mother cherished God like he was the only thing in this universe like she needed him to live. He would bet that she would choose God over food and water, the very things her body needed to survive.
But to him, religion was so suffocating, and one day he would try to breathe but there would be no air.
After all, Michael was never meant to love him as she did, he thought, and maybe he wasn’t meant to adore him at all because he never felt like he could.
“I hate this window!” The boy near him shouted with such hatred he thought his ears might explode.
An older woman appeared in the door frame like magic, “Now Mr. Lewis, you know who can hear you right? It isn’t right or holy to hate, what would he think of you?”
Jack apologized and tried to shut the window once more.
He gently placed the photos of patron saints into his dark blue suitcase, feeling a little more guilty as he saw them.
He quickly shook it off and packed the remaining of his clothes into his suitcase and huffed as the zipper got caught on a piece of clothing. He could hear laughing from the boy behind him.
“Nothing around here works, yet they make so much money from our families.” Jack tapped his finger on the desk.
It was true, practically all students that attended the private school had rich parents and lived in large houses. Both Jack and Michael were included in that majority.
He wanted to respond, he did, but he truly had nothing to say, nothing that would matter or be remembered. So, he never spoke.
Teenagers flooded out of the catholic school like bees leaving their hive, various teachers hugged their favorite students and kids gave their friends throughout the years goodbyes.
Michael got no hug, nor a single goodbye. In fact, he could swear to God that no one would come even 3 feet near him. Holy kids like them couldn’t come near the boy touched by Satan.
He would never be free from God or Satan or any type of religion, but he hoped that he could at least get out of Ohio, free from these people that would’ve killed him if they got the chance. Free from the teachers and peers that nearly drove him insane. If he had stayed here any longer his friend would’ve walked into a room with the sight of a hanging corpse.
A bright blue car drove up to him, it was his mother. She barely said a word to him as she drove to their house.
Soon enough, she turned into the neighborhood, and he saw the various white and gray houses made of stone. She slowed down and pulled into the driveway.
He was just about to head inside before he heard shuffling from behind him. Over his shoulder, he looked and saw a big Saint Bernard practically jumping into the arms of the boy he knew so much of. The dog barked and howled, happy to see his favorite owner.
He couldn't help but smile.
“Michael! Get your nose out of other's business and get in here!”