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“I tell you, I don't know what you’re talking about!”
As he shouted back for the third time in retaliation, he could hear the rooster crow.
Simon turned to see his Rabbi, escorted by the Roman soldiers with a saddened look on His face. No words were to be exchanged between them— and a deafening silence enveloped the two.
He knew.
Staring at Him, what his Lord said last supper rushed back to Simon.
“Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”
Despite vehemently declaring he would never in his lifetime abandon Jesus, just like a dagger to his heart, the realisation of what he had just done came to Simon. It washed over him like a wave. It was crushing.
He really had done it; he denied his Lord. His teacher, who he had spent the last three years with, spreading the word of God throughout the land— Just like that, what He said came true.
What a fool he was.
He swore to die with Him. If he were to die with someone, it would be by His side. He promised, and he really believed that he'd do it.
Simon caught a glimpse of Him getting brought out of the gates, being sent to who knows where. To be tried, probably. He was helpless, unable to do anything. Despite defending his Rabbi with a sword, he was met with reproach instead of gratefulness. He wasn't about to make that mistake again.
He could feel the tears well up in his eyes. He wasn't one to cry, not at all; but the overwhelming guilt he felt was a pain like none other. It piled up inside him like an angry storm.
So he fled— away from everything.
Not even a destination in mind, like a coward.
He rushed outside, away from the crowd that had gathered around him. Their interest in him was long gone, anyway.
The coarse grass swept against his legs, as he ran like there was no tomorrow. Not a care in the world, even as the grassy fields turned into thorny bramble, and as the lights from the torches were nowhere to be found.
Even though it hurt, Simon ran, and ran, and ran. He didnt know what on earth he was doing. It was as if he was trying to escape his own thoughts; how foolish.
he came across a clearing. Nothing but trees and plants, not a single house nor man in sight.
It was... quiet. Nobody was watching him, nobody human, at least. He knew God was watching. He watched him deny His son.
Simon could feel a pit inside his stomach.
The smoke from the bonfire must've done something to him, or was it the wine? Though, that amount wasn't enough for him to become drunk. Maybe it was the night air. It was cold, after all.
He didn't know why, but—
He wept.
The few tears he shed turned into despaired, pathetic wails. He sobbed, knowing noone could hear him.
Falling to his knees, he wept for his Rabbi, and the fate that was about to befall Him. The Rabbi whom he so adored.
He wept, for despite everything He had done and would do for him, Simon still denied Him.
He wept, for he was a coward, a fool.
The bites from the insects didn't phase him. Nothing did.
He didn't know how he would ever look at Him ever again. He was distraught with himself, beside himself with grief. He really was a foolish man.
Whatever the other apostles were doing was just a footnote in his mind, wherever they were. Simon hoped they would be better than him, at least being there to see Rabbi instead of fleeing.
But the thought of them ate at his mind.
John, bless his heart. He was always there for their Rabbi. It was why He called him ‘His beloved.” Peter loved him like a brother, despite their occasional arguments.
Judas, the betrayer— Whatever he did after betraying Jesus, Simon didn't want to think about. He could be dead for all he cared. Selling out the Son of Man with a kiss, a humble greeting. Peter felt sick.
Andrew, his brother, was somewhere in the area, he hoped. Simon wasn't sure if Andrew even knew what was happening at the moment.
He felt the tears stream down his face, just like a waterfall. In the midst of his sorrow, a memory resurfaced— they passed by a waterfall near a river once, during one of Rabbi's teachings.
No, no, no— He didn't want to think more about Him than he already is.
Just thinking about Him any more made the pit in his stomach get deeper. How blessed he was to be one of His closest apostles, being able to listen to everything He said. All the words that came out of His mouth were laced with love.
He didn't deserve to be graced by the Son of God. He was born a sinner, and would die a sinner.
He washed his feet that supper, the job of a servant. Ever humble, but still, ever divine. How kind and forgiving He was— elusive to Simon, who was a rash, impulsive man.
Why did He pick him, a fisherman from Capernaum, out of every other man in the land? Surely there were others more suited. Others more faithful, humble and righteous than he was. Jesus could have picked them instead, but He chose not to.
Simon sighed. He was exhausted from all the running. He looked around; the realisation that he didnt know where he was finally occured to him.
He sat under a lifeless tree, its long, winding branches standing right above him. He swept away his face filled with tears using his sleeve.
It was achingly lonely. He wasn't used to life without a crowd following him at all times, nor was he used to life without his fellow students with him. Now, he was completely alone, not a single soul in his sight. The silence cut like a knife to tender skin.
He didn't know the kind of fate his Rabbi would have. Thinking about it now, didn't He tell them before?— he forgot what He told him exactly. Something about a crucifixion. Or maybe something else, he didn't know. Simon’s memory was foggy.
He didn't want to know. He didn't want to remember what He said. Just thinking of his Rabbi being hurt pained him in every way. How would he deal with losing Him? Especially in such a grotesque, horrific manner? His Lord, being treated like a lowly criminal, the son of God treated like a monster?
Even if He was safe, and could return to his teachings like normal, Simon didn't feel worthy enough to go back to Him. He wasn't worthy of being one of His apostles. Not after denying Him, like the coward he was. The other 10 deserved to be with Him more.
The night was eating at Simon, his eyes started to wear heavy. The sorrow he felt was deeply hurting him.
He started to drift off, thinking of all the things that Jesus taught him over the years. From small things to big things; ever since the day Simon met Him he was never really the same.
Closing his eyes, his thoughts were brought to one of Rabbi's teachings.
Hate. Rabbi taught them not to hate others. He teached to forgive, and to pray for your enemies. He taught them to be merciful and loving.
How then— How could Simon handle the fact that the one he hated the most was himself?
The bitter night ate at him, almost as bitter as his heart was towards its own body.
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