She was on her knees praying, Father, please be with me, help me now, I’m calling to You. Please stop him, don’t let him do this.

He watched her with her eyes closed. His anger seethed. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed her hair and yanked her to her feet as he screamed, “Stop that praying, bitch! It’s never helped your slutt-ass before, it’s not going to help you now!” He waved his free hand wildly, “God isn’t real! He isn’t going to help you!”

His hand came close to her face and she recoiled. That was a mistake. He saw it and yelled even more, “You think I’m going to hit you? Do you!? HUH!?” He yanked her hair hard with each question. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

His face was red with anger. She didn’t bear look at him or even answer him. She shut her eyes tight, preparing for what she knew was to come. She kept praying in her mind, Father I adore You and I lay my life before You. How I love You. It was a song she had learned years ago. She couldn’t remember who had taught it to her. But it brought her comfort. Especially when he got mad. She hoped that God would hear her prayers today.

He glared with rage at her with her eyes shut. With a tight hold on her hair, he drew his fist back and screamed, “You fucking whore! You think I’m going to hit you!? I’ll fucking hit you allright!” With all his might he brought his fist toward her face. 

As his knuckles hit her jaw she heard the loud CRACK of a bone snapping. He never let go of her hair but the impact still made her fall backwards. She landed on the floor with a scream and this time, the tears flowed freely. Her hand went to her jaw and she cried out at the surge of pain that enveloped her head and neck. She could taste the blood in her mouth. This time she couldn’t hold back the tears.

He watched as she cried, he could see the blood dripping from her mouth and his wrath ignited. “Get up bitch! You’re not hurt! I hardly even touched you!” She obediently got up and she struggled to keep her balance as she stood in front of him, dizzy with pain.

From out of the blue she heard a voice, “God loves you.” When she saw his eyes widen in surprise she realized the voice was her own. How she had managed to get the words out with her displaced jaw was beyond her. She was just as surprised as him. But he was only surprised for a second. Again his eyes narrowed and he cocked his fist back again.

Through gritted teeth he asked her, “What did you say?” He was looking for another reason to hit her again. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t even realize she had said it in the first place.

“God loves you. Jesus loves you. I love you,” the words were foreign. She heard herself speak again, “I forgive you, Jack. For everything you have done. For everything you will do and for what you do now. I forgive you and God forgives you.”

His eyes widened again and he stepped back as he lowered his fist. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. She couldn’t believe what HE was doing. He looked as if he was actually afraid of her. “Jack, you know you don’t want to do this. I love you. God loves you. Your father was an evil man. You are not your father.”

Tears sprang to his eyes. She could see his anger fading. She didn’t know anything about his father. She didn’t even know where these words were coming from. But she was glad that whatever she was saying was making him back off.

There was a long silence. She didn’t say anything else and neither did he. He slowly backed himself up against the wall and slid down it, drawing his knees up to his chest. He just kept staring at her with tears in his eyes. His hands rested palms up on the floor. He looked like a little child. Helpless. She could see the pain on his face. She didn’t know what to do, so she just stood there, looking at him.

Finally he spoke, “Christine,” he looked at her lovingly. His voice cracked with emotion, “What is that prayer you always pray?”

She fell to her knees and cried with joy as she recited her prayer. He listened and cried.

PP Press © 2005

The old man opened his eyes and blinked. He didn’t move, he just stared at the white ceiling. He could hear his heart rate monitor with its steady [i]beep….beep….beep….beep[/i]. He winced when the automatic blood pressure cuff went off. He hated it when it squeezed tightly on his arm. Pinching his skin. He wished everything weren’t so automatic anymore. It was nice when the nurses used to do everything in person. When they wouldn’t stand around in a crowded nurse’s station, monitoring their patients by the green and red dots on an electronic monitor. He sighed and rubbed his arm where the cuff had pinched him.

He looked over to his right. Where his chair normally sat was an empty spot. He groaned and slowly sat himself up in his bed, grabbing for the nurse call-button. After a minute, a male nurse entered the room. The old man liked this nurse. He was special. Many times this nurse had stopped by his room to chat for just a few quick minutes before moving on to help the next patient.

“What can I do you for, Sir?” The nurse asked with a smile.

The old man just tilted his head in the direction of the empty spot where his chair normally was and grunted, “My chair.”

The nurse nodded, “Oh yes, sorry, Sir. I think the patient’s family down the hall nabbed it while you were sleeping. Would you like me to get you another one?”

The old man closed his eyes and nodded. The nurse left to fetch another chair and the old man sat back in his bed and relaxed.

Out in the hall, a heavy-set female nurse saw the other nurse leave the old man’s room. She touched his arm as he walked by, “The old man wants his chair again, huh?”

The male nurse looked sternly at her, “Don’t call him “old man”. He has a name. And yes, he wants his chair again.”

She looked down and nodded, “Yes, sorry. But…” she looked up at him again, “why does he always want a chair? He never has any visitors. No one ever sits in it. I don’t get it.”

The male nurse looked at her and smiled, “I asked him that one time. He told me that a very special person always sits in that chair. When I asked him who, he said….‘Jesus.’”

The woman snickered, “Ah, I see.” Satisfied that her question had been answered, she hurried off to the nurse’s station.

The male nurse shook his head in disappointment and found a chair. He brought it to the old man where he was waiting patiently and sat it down close to the head of the old man’s bed. “Here you are, Sir, enjoy your chat today.”

The old man grunted his thanks and waited until the nurse left. He thought about how many times he had had his special conversations with God. He found his faith on April 4th, 1932 when he was only 20 years old. Ever since that first day, he always pictured Jesus, sitting in a chair, whenever he prayed. Since he had been admitted into the hospital, it was harder to do. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find the time, or an empty chair; he just realized that he didn’t have the energy anymore. All he could to do was barely sit up and the only words that came out of his mouth were non-audible grunts which only the male nurse seemed to understand.

The old man looked at the chair longingly. Today was not a normal day. Today he didn’t want that chair so he could talk with God. Today he wanted that chair so he could see Him. The old man moaned as he slowly lifted up out of his bed part-way. He looked at his Savior as He held out His arms in an embrace. Suddenly, the old man’s pain was gone.

An hour later, the male nurse came by to check on the old man. What he saw brought joyful tears to his eyes. There was the old man, with his hands folded on the seat of the chair, his head resting on his arms, with his waist and feet still in his bed. The old man was dead. His last actions having been to hold his Lord as he was welcomed Home.

PP Press © 2005

Kyle raised his fist mockingly and hissed, “Shut up you dick! You wanna get us caught?!”

The two were crouched on the metal rafters just above the security desk. The two guards on duty were too busy talking to each other to bother looking up and seeing them bickering. Guy and Kyle were waiting for the right moment. They were hoping that one of the guards would at least leave to use the restroom, then the two of them could handle just one guard. In the meantime, they were getting restless.

Their break finally came when one of the guards got up. The two stiffened and fell dead silent as they heard the guard say, “Well Wilson, if you don’t mind….I think I’m gonna give Jenny a call.”

Wilson teased him, “That girlfriend of yours still has you wrapped around her little finger huh?”

They heard the first guard chuckle and mumble something as he got up and went into the office and shut the door. Wilson angrily mumbled, “Pussy-whipped. Women are nothing but trouble.” Guy and Kyle looked at each other. Guy was antsy, he wanted to jump down and pounce on Wilson while they had the chance. Kyle put his finger to his lips and whispered, “Wait.”

Guy glared at him and frowned. Kyle pointed down and the two watched as Wilson kicked his feet up on the old metal desk and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his big belly. After a couple minutes, the big guard was fast asleep.

The two convicts smiled at each other. They started making their way over the rafters to the adjacent window.

They grunted and squeezed themselves over the beams, contorting their bodies in ways they never knew they could. They were in full view of the guard’s desk now. If Wilson woke up, they would be caught. They kept as silent as possible.

Finally they reached the small window. It didn’t look like they would fit through, but as Kyle unhitched the lock and pushed it open, the cool breeze of the outside air made them realize that they would do anything to get out of that place. Even if it meant cutting off an arm to squeeze out of a window.

Kyle turned around backwards and stuck his feet out of the window. “Ok, now you grab my hands and slowly lower me to the ground. When I’m on the ground, I’ll grab hold of your feet and help you down.” Guy simply nodded as Kyle slowly lowered himself out of the window and grunted, “Ok, now take my hands.”

Guy grabbed Kyle’s hands tightly and slowly lowered him the rest of the way out of the window. Kyle dangled there for a while. He looked down at the ground and saw that he was much higher up then he had anticipated. He glanced back up at Guy who was smiling at him.

Kyle’s eyes widened. Just before he could protest, Guy dropped his hold on Kyle’s hands and watched as he fell to the ground. When he saw that Kyle hadn’t broken any bones, he stuck his finger out of the window and flipped him the bird. Kyle stood up, brushed himself off and watched angrily as Guy stuck his feet out of the window and dropped to the ground.

As soon as Guy’s feet hit the ground, Kyle’ fist was in his face. Guy fell backwards to the ground and glared up at Kyle.

Guy looked up at Kyle with a bloody smile, “It was worth it, you dick. It was worth seeing that scared look on your pussy face and watching you fall. I’d do it over again if I had the chance.”

Kyle smiled and held his hand out for Guy. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, man.”

PP Press © 2005