SINNED and SIN

Aubrey Maye Arrieta

I stared upon my window the turquoise abyss of the ocean. There is no way to defy but welcome the cold breeze kissing my bare skin. “Here’s your food, John,” my mom exerted an effort to sound jovial but her voice and emotion say otherwise. She put the tray on my table and stirred the mixture of banana shake she prepared for me. My mouth watered just by imagining its palatability. “Are we not going to have dinner together tonight?,” I asked with my voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I have an important errand to run,” and she traversed her farewell walk out of my room’s threshold. I have been hearing that line for years now and the pain always felt like a struck of a bullet. I understand where she is coming from. She became the different mom I used to have after my father and sister departed life.

Flashback to the times my world started to crumble. I whimpered like a dog for the beloved lives that have been lost during that day—November 1. To say that I am shattered would be an understatement. My spine shivers beholding the blood spreading like a river inside the room. I cannot will back the tears showering from my two orbs as I put my ear to my sister’s mouth. There I confirmed she was not breathing…so was my father lifelessly lying in a fetal position with bullets pierced through in his torso.

“John, here’s your food,” my mom exerted an effort to sound jovial but her voice and emotion said otherwise. “Are we not going to have dinner together tonight?” I asked with my voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I have an important errand to run.” She was about to do the mantra she always exhibits when I hit the table where the foods are situated. I heard a clunking when both the spoon and fork fell down the floor. “Mom, can you please see the other side of the door? It’s not only you who suffers most,” I said hoping I could still tame the fury building deep within but I threw the glass on the wall—the milk spilled untidy alongside with the broken glass.

“John, inhale, exhale…,” she tried to calm my demons down but it wasn’t enough.

“STOP CALLING ME JOHN. THAT IS NOT MY NAME. MY NAME IS PAUL,“ I screamed with a volume like I would want to wake up Poseidon in his sea kingdom throne. But, it was not the person that I anticipated would wake up to. I see an old man wearing his round spectacles and his white coat entering my room alongside the two nurses. After them were two muscled men with guns inserted near their pockets.

“Mom, help me,” I begged for a rescue but my words fell into deaf ears. She stayed in her place doing nothing. “She is not your mom, John,” the doctor said to me while he tried to reach out my right arm. “I SAID MY NAME IS PAUL NOT JOHN,” I shouted. “YOU KILLED MY FATHER, YOU KILLED MY SISTER,” I continued.

“No, your real name is John Kennon not Paul Ster…” the doctor told me and dropped a bomb on the floor. I kneeled down and pick up the photos. “NO…NO…N--O…,” the only litany I could pull. I could not fathom the idea that I was here—in a mental health institution for criminals who shed life in the past life. I want to feel the zenith of pain what would it be like to be shot dead. I want to feel the pain-est of all the pain inflicted to my father and lone sister. I hastily grasp the gun that has been threatened in my direction awhile back. I put the head of the pistol onto my temporal. I recited my last prayer before I end the life I did not dream to have. “Forgive me for I have sinned. Forgive me for I will sin.” But before I could pull the trigger, a needle pierced through my biceps. Everything numbs and my whole being then fell into unconsciousness.