In the nature of things, it is almost impossible that a young man of my sort should have the good fortune to tide through eighteen years of life without making more blunders than one.

Episode 3

The morning came after this night of unrest, and with it the necessity for a plan. I was far too self-willed to recede from a position, especially as it would involve humiliation. Conversely, some people may be too honest. I think of Jeff as the most ethical and guileless man I know. Scrupulously honest and truthful. I felt that he always had to tell the truth even though he was not a sophisticated kind of individual. Jeff also had an uncanny insight for recognizing something that will benefit others. Misery taught him nothing more than defiant endurance of it. His wife was dead, but only to him. The ironical sequence of things angered him like an impish trick from a fellow-creature. 

Half-past ten in the morning was about my hour for seeking a good spot – a time when the town avenues were deserted with only Christians walking into holy sanctuaries for a sacred moment of worship. I picked a Bible, leaving the house in utter solitude. I saw a huge structure, a cathedral full of worshippers, lifting their hands above their heads while the priest prayed silently. I could still feel the pains on my chest I felt the night before,  I felt guilty and filthy, concluding such a holy place as where I wasn’t qualified to be. It was meant for only clean people I said to myself. I groaned. Of course i wasn’t thinking straight. If I had been I wouldn’t have come here  in the first place. I swallowed hard. Reluctantly slid into the chair as I managed to listen to the sermon from the pulpit. I felt the urge to announce to the entire congratulation what I was going through, my nightmares. My expression darkened. I folded my arms across my chest and crossed my legs. I sucked in a sharp breath. 
“Heaven is real, hell is real” the priest declared repeatedly. I couldn’t  tell if God loved me, within me I felt exiled, lonely and disgraced. I sought healing and a means to escape the saddest world I ever known. The thought of being betrayed by someone I trusted brought me to the edge of despair, physically attacked beyond recognition and belief. 

Hunted by abuse in my present and in my past. On a pilgrimage destined to bring me face – to – face with those who sought to destroy me in my early life. I seldom could find freedom from guilt and healing from abuse. I walked out of the church hoping to hear from God on my way home. I knew I never had a home, all I had was seemly locked up in Aunty Lucia’s world. 
The rest of the week sped by easily. I wanted to tell the world my pain, but had realized that no one would believe my story. Who would believe I hated what the world would call a pound of pleasure? I tried to stay away from Aunty Lucia that week. I couldn’t visit, for she had warned me never to bring in any visitor, especially female visitors.

Aunty Lucia drove in at about 6:45pm, all looking exhausted.

“Where is this fool?” She thundered. Instantly I felt a sick feeling in my stomach as her voice rushed masterfully through my eardrums. She came right where I sat, looking unruffled and found me. She smiled. Gazing at me for a safe moment. She loved the way I pronounced her name, ‘Aunty LU-cia’, with some exotic accent. She wanted to kiss me, but her heart was pounding so loudly that she found herself turning away out of embarrassment. Soon she stopped right on her tracks and said, “go to my room this minute and prepare my bed” nervously I stood up, starring at her eyes and the perfectly arching eyebrows. 

Then she added. “Prepare tonight to give me a massage, as you can see I am overwhelmingly exhausted” I nodded reluctantly.