Work Text:
What becomes of all creation
If the smallest prayer is firmly answered “No?”
Heavenly Father,
I tried.
For what reason you’ve chosen to forsake me, I do not know. I have not spoken much since the crash. I have been unable. There’s too much on my mind. I search my memories top to bottom to find the sin which explains all this, explains why we were all cast out. Tested, like Job. Burdened, like Noah. I feel selfish. I should not have to ask what I did to deserve this. I should have kept my sins fewer; then perhaps I’d know. I realize that’s my burden to bear.
I have no right to ask anything of you. My faith wavers. It has daily. You have given less to those who love you more. My family. My teammates. I’m thankful for them all, and plenty aware I do not deserve them.
But in what may be the last time I commune with you, I humiliate myself before you to beg for forgiveness. I have to try. I have to ask so I can finally understand. I cannot live whatever is left of my life without at least asking.
Is it because I love Lottie Matthews?
If it is so wrong for two women to love, I do not understand why you put her before me. A creature so kind, so beautiful, so impossible. I really admire her. I want her to admire me. If I were to abide by what we’re taught, I would deny myself that admiration. That love. And I do love her. I know that I do. I knew it because it felt just like my love for you. I don’t just say those sorts of things, either. I mean that. It felt the same. Nothing else feels like it.
I guess ‘they’ say if you love something, set it free. So I am.
I will always have room in my heart for you, Lord, if you ever wish to speak to me again. To let me hear your call. But if you have cast me out, I have no choice but to believe it is for the sin of love.
She has been here for me. Comforted and consoled me. You abandoned me. Regardless of whether or not I deserve it, I feel as though I cannot forgive myself, for I now harbor resentment against you. For that, I am heretical. I have strayed. Your punishments prove too trying for me. Lottie Matthews has damned me. In a way, I think that means you have damned me. I question your damnation. I believe myself defiant in your eyes.
If I burn in hell forever, it was worth it if I got to be with her here, if just for a little while. I cannot believe or love a God who does not see the beauty and purity of such a love. It’s like I said, my love for her and my love for you have always felt the same. But now? I think you are unworthy of it. I cannot believe I am writing this, but it is what I think. It is how I feel. I love her. I think she loves me. It’s rather simple, honestly.
She would have never denied me you.
I just don’t know how it’s possible. How could you not understand the depth of your own creation? And if you do understand it, then how could you not permit me to love such a thing? Above all else, what could possibly compel me to insist that an all-knowing, all-loving God doesn’t comprehend one of their own children? Am I not your child still? Is she not?
Are we to wander this wasteland? This place without end? Starved of all things?
My teammates have told me stories. Natalie’s father. Jackie’s mother. Several girls on JV have told me even more about them. Stories about parents who don’t love their children. Stories that remind me of you. Ungrateful, sinful, and monstrous though I might be, I cannot shake them. If I am a monster, is your unconditional love finally granted a qualifier?
I thought differently.
I am sorry. I do not regret my devotion to you. But I do regret owing so much of myself to someone who did not love me back. My love had no conditions. Yours did.
She is my gospel now.
Goodbye,
Laura Lee
Laura Lee held it for a long time, but ultimately, she burned the letter. The campfire whispered and licked the night air as the paper floated down to the center of the pyre, and the crackling, popping flame caressed it until it was no more.
She felt like holding the blasphemous half-sheet of notebook paper any longer would have infected her. Allowed some kind of horrific filth to find its way inside her and rot her from within.
For the first time in a very long time, she was uncertain. God granted her stability. A reliable friend. A confidant. An authority figure who was fair and just. It didn’t matter that no one seemed to understand. It didn’t matter that many of her teammates were openly disdainful of her faith and how she carried it. She wasn’t stupid, nor was she unaware, but she assumed it was merely all part of the requisite burden. She’d been told her whole life she would be mocked for her virtue. Was she stubborn? Was she devoted? Was there a difference?
But it didn’t matter because they didn’t understand. Not in a way that implied they were beneath her. But many people, young and old, did not understand the nature of Laura Lee’s beliefs. God was not an old man in the sky. God was not a source of all answers. God was a force given form. God was the causality of the universe itself bending to be understood by creatures so lowly they could never hope to reach such divinity through their own means. God was the blessing of seeing behind the curtain into the programming language of reality, amalgamated into a singular being. God was not locked away in some pocket of the cosmos.
God was a friend. One she felt she couldn’t talk to anymore. One whose judgments felt ill-defined, inexplicable, and unfair.
She wasn’t a child. She didn’t simply blame God for all the ills of the world and deem him guilty for creating them. She knew reality was more complex than that. God did punish his children, but his children were often architects of their own suffering. Wars, devastation, greed, these were not Godly things. These were man’s follies. It was not up to God to solve every problem or fix every mistake. How could humans possibly learn anything if a divine being did not allow them to err? To have choice? To have freedom? Yes, the consequences and scale of suffering were never fair, because how could they be? Pain, emotions, death, life- these couldn’t be measured. There was no adequate compensation for a life lost, innocent or no.
But things felt different after the crash.
It was for this reason that Laura wrote a letter, rather than praying. Prayer to her had diminished in its effect. It did not bring her the security it used to because it didn’t feel like God could hear her out here. She used to feel comforted by the mere act, but now it brought her absence. Hollowness.
What was she meant to do? How was she supposed to wrestle with this burden and make something good out of it? Everything she’d learned, everything taught to her, it felt like it waned until it lost meaning.
But Charlotte Matthews gave her meaning.
It was an unlikely connection that they had, one that stemmed initially from pity on Lottie’s behalf and fascination on Laura Lee’s. Lottie seemed to be the exact type of person that Laura Lee would normally avoid. Not to be rude or anything, just merely because girls who looked and acted and dressed the way she did never really took kindly to Laura Lee, even if she minded her own business. She was all but certain she was one of the many girls on the team who laughed at her behind closed doors, spread rumors about her family being overly pious, strict, or incestual. She wouldn’t have treated her differently until Lottie was bold enough to disrespect her to her face, but thankfully that moment never came.
In what may have been that disrespect’s stead, something very different occurred
After practice one day, Laura Lee forgot to bring her cleats with her and desperately needed to clean them before the game. Unfortunately, it was one of the days she had to walk home, and she’d only realized this halfway through her designated trek. She’d passed Jackie being picked up by her parents; they even kindly offered her a ride home, but she politely declined as she didn’t want them to have to shuttle her back to the school, then back to her home. She may not have spoken with her often, but she was fond of Jackie. She seemed to embody the exact type of leader Laura Lee knew she should aspire to be, despite knowing she was far off from ever actually being capable of such leadership in the first place. Still, she was kind, and she appreciated that all the same.
Upon arriving back in the locker room, she was greeted by a series of sights and sounds that took her by surprise.
To say the least.
“You need something, Matthews?” Natalie’s familiar, uncertain rasp quietly asked.
Lottie had cornered her.
She hid herself out of view, still clinging to the edge of the doorway so she could make out what was happening. Charlotte Matthews, the sometimes nice, sometimes mean heiress, was looming over Natalie, only two feet apart from her. Staring her down, head tilted slightly, still closing the space between them as Natalie backed up against the wall.
Laura Lee wasn’t a voyeur, but she couldn’t avert her eyes here. It looked as though she might be about to hurt Natalie. Much to her own surprise, she was another person who showed her some kindness in the past. Natalie seemed rough around the edges, but it was almost as though she was constantly fighting against that very perception, and sought to defy it to some extent. Her interactions with her weren’t hugely meaningful, or anything beyond brief, but that was why she valued them. She once jokingly offered her a cigarette after practice. At first it nearly seemed like she was making fun of her, but an assured pat on the shoulder and a quick, courteous ‘hey, you okay, Laura Lee?’ let her know she was in good company. She’d meant to tease her. Like a friend might.
She just had to cool it on the ‘God’ talk around her. She could tell it ruffled her feathers. (In the weeks immediately after the crash, when Laura Lee had been admittedly rather zealous in her ramblings, Natalie made an effort to be around her as little as possible for this exact reason. It was the precise moment when the doubts started pouring in.)
It felt like she had barely even blinked, and suddenly, Lottie was nearly on top of Natalie.
“Maybe. Any reason you don’t wanna pass to me? I was open. You ignored me,” Lottie growled, genuine irritation coating her words.
Natalie looked utterly bewildered.
“N-No, dude, what?” she stammered, “No, Shauna and Jackie were just-”
Lottie lifted up her knee, pressing it immediately just shy of Natalie’s thighs.
“I don’t like being ignored,” Lottie dryly declared.
Natalie’s eyes narrowed after she eyed what Lottie was nearly doing to her.
“Yeah? Well, I don’t like being interrupted. Now get the fuck out of my face, Charlotte,” Natalie hissed back.
Laura Lee felt a sympathy panic burgeoning in her chest. You didn’t call Lottie by her full name like that. Not to her face. Even she knew that.
“Is this what you have to do?” Lottie questioned, almost amused but not quite, “You have to be a bitch so nobody talks to you? What if I just wanted to ask you a question, Nat?”
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t read Lottie for the life of her. Her voice was so genuine, but what was with this approach? Why was she being so confrontational? More importantly, why had Lottie hung around so long after practice? Natalie normally helped out Jackie and Coach clean up, and Natalie was never in a hurry to be anywhere, but Lottie was nearly always one of the first people gone.
“This is a really funny way of asking someone a question, Lottie,” Natalie said, her voice even quieter.
She almost sounded afraid. Laura Lee didn’t blame her.
Lottie leaned in. Her mouth was only a few inches away from Natalie's ear.
“It’s the only way I can get your attention,” Lottie said, voice still unwavering, “You too good for us or something? Seriously. I wanna know.”
Natalie shuddered.
“It’s nothing personal, Lot, Jesus,” she breathed with haste, “You aren’t afraid I’ll smash your teeth in for getting in my face?”
She was so… confused. Natalie almost sounded like she was in some sort of denial. As though she were surprised anyone would want to get this close to her for any reason.
Laura Lee thought she… no. No, never mind. She didn’t want that.
Yes, you do. You wouldn’t mind.
She couldn’t see all of Lottie’s face, but something about her countenance changed. She could be so rigid, so stiff, but it was then that she softened. Her composure slipped. Her eyes focused on Nat’s eyes, her lips, her neck, her-
There was a shared moment between the two. Brief, but undeniable. The exact moment when Natalie realized that Lottie was looking at her like that. A microexpression of almost revulsion- not at Lottie, but at Charlotte Matthews, beautiful, temperamental, lost- forming and unforming at the notion that such a girl would or could ever see her for anything beyond a person-shaped space.
Lottie moved in to try and kiss her. Natalie’s eyes lit up with shock, and she slipped out from under Lottie, running away so fast that there was no way she could’ve registered running right past Laura Lee. The sounds of her sneakers hitting the recently mopped floors, discordant streaks of rubber smeared on linoleum, filled the hall and echoed into the locker room, where Lottie was presently frozen. Standing in the exact same spot, just without another girl nearly pinned under her.
Laura Lee watched as her face creased. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead into the wall that Natalie had just been against. Her right hand, now shaking, balled into a fist that trembled at her side. Her left, however, lifted up to touch the flat surface in front of her.
Laura Lee had never seen anything like it before.
“Fuck,” the wavy-haired brunette muttered as she descended into crouching, her hand still on the wall, leaning for support.
It didn’t take long for the integrity in her knees to just give out. She was sitting on the floor, deflated. Sniffling. Crying.
Laura Lee didn’t know what she was thinking. Initially, she was there because she was worried for Natalie, of course. She still was, but this was more pressing. Even if Lottie had been, at best, ambivalent to her, she needed… something. Neither girl was just really all that sure as to what that was.
Maybe she needed help. Laura Lee wasn’t as prideful as to assume that she could be such a thing, but maybe she could serve as a vessel. To have God work or speak through her to Lottie so that she might hear what she needed to.
“Lottie?” her church choir voice mused as she approached.
Lottie wiped her face with her arm. She tried to stifle herself as best she could, but it was futile. She couldn’t help but laugh at her own inadequacy, the sound contorting in her throat as she tried to have it replace her cries. Instead it was just a head-on collision of hard consonant noises that disappeared not with an expression, but another sniffle.
“Hey, Laura Lee,” she said with a smile so false even she couldn’t half-believe it, “Just slipped. I-I’ll be okay. Thanks.”
She was trying to rush her out of there. The tension in her voice seemed to thicken with each word, to the point where she wouldn’t have been shocked if the next things out of her mouth weren’t loud demands that she stop looking at her and get out of there.
Lottie nearly looked like she was about to do just that as Laura Lee still approached, but as her face tightened, it seemed to collapse under the pressure of whatever it was that she was holding back.
She just… started sobbing. Looking up at Laura Lee, knowing she didn’t want to be seen, but held captive by immobility and emotional exhaustion.
Once she realized what was happening, she rushed forward, getting down on her knees next to Lottie as she embraced her. She wasn’t very good at talking to most people. It was why she occasionally just defaulted to scripture reflexively. That was what she knew. What she could default to. This was less her territory, but at the bare minimum, she could be a shoulder to cry on.
Lottie stained Laura Lee’s dress with herself as she clung onto her.
“W-Why?” she choked out into the muffling fabric.
Laura Lee tried to give her the stability she knew she needed right now, but Lord help her, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what that one-word question was in reference to.
She had to dispense with formalities. It wouldn’t get her anywhere.
“I saw, Lottie,” she admitted, “I saw Natalie run away.”
If more information was needed, or if Lottie saw fit, she could say more. She didn’t want to press, but she needed to let her know that she knew what she did. Maybe that would make whatever this was easier.
Lottie pulled back, her crying evening out and her face a mess of high-end makeup, snot, and tears. She nearly wiped it away, but before she could, Laura Lee reached into her pocket with her free hand with a handful of tissues. Carrying a small packet of them on her person had never been unhelpful, she found. Lottie nodded, mouthed ‘thank you’ to her, and blew her nose before an attempt at cleaning herself. It was semi-successful.
“I guess you saw me, then,” she added, the words feeling weighty and dense the moment they left her mouth, “I d-didn’t… I wasn’t going to just do that. I… really did want to know. I just thought she was ignoring me… ignoring me because I can’t stop looking at her.”
She thought as much.
It was strange to see her like this. As though she were an exposed wound, left to fester. It was so rare to get an unflattering look at Lottie. It seemed to be what she valued. It was why they hadn’t talked.
But suddenly, that didn’t feel like the case. Maybe it was just that her image was the one thing she could control. The rest of her, the part that wasn’t that image- it was fractious. She could feel it. Whatever was beneath was mired in conflict. In uncertainty.
“I think you frighten her a little. Your last name might intimidate her,” Laura Lee postulated. “She accepts what she believes she deserves, and I don’t think she believes she deserves much. I don’t think it has much to do with you.”
“W-What do you mean?” Lottie asked, brow creasing.
“I think she’s afraid of you, I just also don’t think that’s completely your fault, either,” Laura Lee assured her, “Though… I can’t really imagine today helped much.”
Both let out a meager, pathetic smile. Even if it wasn’t much, Laura Lee could tell Lottie was putting in the effort to show those words still meant something to her. Even if they weren’t the words she wanted to hear, that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate them.
“So… she doesn’t think she deserves for people to be nice to her?” Lottie asked, finding the notion utterly ridiculous, it seemed.
Laura Lee nodded.
“I don’t think so,” she said, “It sort of begs the question… have you been nice to her?”
Lottie fidgeted in place.
Words of advice were no good without the proper self-reflection needed to internalize them. Lottie never was, nor would she ever be, someone who took self-determination of one’s own character lightly.
She shook her head.
“N-No,” she said glumly, “Not really. I guess I just… expected her to be easier to talk to. She seemed different. I figured maybe she’d get it.”
Laura Lee’s expression faltered.
“It?” she repeated.
“Me,” Lottie said, the gloominess permeating her voice, “She always seemed different. I’m just… I can’t keep doing it, Laura Lee.”
Her skepticism increased twofold.
“What?” she asked, reaching out to gently reassure her with a light grip on her shoulder.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said, her voice fearful, “I k-keep looking for someone to make sense of it. To t-tell me why I’m like this. I want someone to understand me better than myself, and I want them to explain it all to me. Just so it’ll finally… click.”
As amorphous, strange, hyper self-aware, and deeply self-critical as it sounded… Laura Lee understood what she meant. She understood it perfectly.
She may not have known it. She may have rejected it when confronted with it outright. But it was all okay, because Laura Lee did understand this.
She was talking about faith. The term just eluded her.
Everything seemingly contradictory about her made more sense. The way people (herself included) very much had trouble reading Lottie. Her endless mood swings. The days where she seemed bright and bubbly, and the days where she seemed sullen and above-it-all. Everyone just assumed she was so above their station that it was just how people like her were. The money went to her head. The success and wealth spoiled her beyond relatability. She was a ‘little budding sociopath raised on a silver spoon’, as some less generous classmates of theirs may have put it.
But maybe she was just alone. How did they know what was wrong with her when they barely even bothered to ask? She wasn’t like Jackie, where the front she put up was still agreeable and likable and fun from the outside looking in. She didn’t envy Jackie’s burdens, of which she knew she had many, but Lottie didn’t have the luxury she did. She couldn’t keep up a facade. She was too fragile for that. Too mercurial. Nothing about her was approachable or inviting, and when you added in that she was a fantastic soccer player, it was a perfect recipe for a persona that made sense to everyone but the girl it supposedly belonged to.
Lottie was a prism. A truth within a dozen lenses of a dozen different shapes and sizes and colors. Dynamic. Unfixed. Unbound.
“It’s not strange to want that, Lottie,” Laura Lee reassured her, “Honestly? I don’t know if there’s anything I want more than that. To sit and talk with the person who understands me the most.”
Lottie finally smiled in a way that felt comforting. Steady. She knew what Laura Lee was talking about, but even if it was only her who thought that way, it meant she at least wasn’t the only one.
That was something.
“Why help me?” she asked, a curious kindness still in her voice, “Don’t you ‘not believe’ in this stuff? I haven’t ‘turned away from the light’ or anything?”
“Do you believe, Lottie?” she asked plainly.
Lottie shrugged.
“Sometimes,” she said, the most honest answer she could’ve given.
She nodded, absorbing the information. She wouldn’t lie to Lottie, but sometimes the truth needed to be told to people in a way that was different. In a way that didn’t sound so bad.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe in or don’t,” Laura Lee assured her, “Even at your lowest, God will love you. Does love you. And if you don’t believe that? That’s okay. I’ll love you for him. He would want me to.”
Lottie was taken aback. She didn’t know what to say to that.
“I want to,” she added, before Lottie could even begin to conjure a response.
And…
She couldn’t.
Instead, there was silence. Quiet, but tense.
But Laura Lee knew better than to confuse ‘quiet’ for ‘peace’.
“Even if I’m crazy?” Lottie asked skeptically, her head tilting.
Laura Lee hardly reacted.
“Especially if you’re crazy,” she flatly reassured her, “You need guidance the most. Many saints felt lost when their sanity left them. It’s why God spoke to them. To lend them his voice. His guidance. Maybe you have yet to find which voice is his. It takes time.”
She smiled at her. She wasn’t here to convert her. She just wanted her to know peace. Lottie didn’t seem very familiar with the concept.
Lottie let out a hollow chuckle.
“So God loves insane, partially faithless lunatics?” she asked.
Laura Lee’s grip tightened—just a little bit.
“Yes, and so do I.”
Since the crash, Laura Lee replayed that moment in her head a lot. She thought about it particularly when Lottie ran out of her Valium. She was afraid. She needed someone to comfort her.
She warmed her. It was better than the fire. Than the blanket. Maybe even a bed, too.
And then she just kept coming back.
Night after night.
And who was Laura Lee to deny her? To reject or shun her? She wasn't cruel.
In the absence of that cruelty, something bloomed. She didn't know when, but eventually, Lottie realized it.
Then things started changing.
When the remembrance faded, replaced by the cold air of night, kept tolerable by the presence of a solitary flame, she heard her speak from behind her.
“Do you know what you’re gonna do?” Lottie asked her softly, knowing exactly what burning that letter meant for Laura Lee.
She stared into the fire. As the orange embers trickled away into the night air, she knew her answer.
“I’ll worship you, Lottie.”
Don't be cross, this sick I want
Nightmares become me, it's so fucking clear
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣇⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣹⣿⣿⣦⣼⣿⣯⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠿⠻⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠻⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣾⣿⣿⣷⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣅⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣦⣄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀