“I grew up in a very abusive family.” Taylor twisted her golden hair nervously around her finger. “My mother ignored it and when my father died, I felt responsible. I asked why God would allow such a horrible thing to happen to such a great person, she yelled at me. She said that God had nothing to do with this. That’s why I did it.”
Pastor Homes stood dumbfounded. He looked at the sanctuary covered with red paint. Not even a team of missionaries could get it all off before tomorrow morning, the most important day of the church.
“I don’t understand, why?”
“My mother, she always comes on Easter Sunday,” Taylor knew the pastor thought she was crazy. “She’s been starving me, taking me to the doctor for all these out-of-the world reasons. But she denies the one thing that’s destroying me. She has set the stage for people to disbelieve me if I ever said anything. I know I would be considered emotionally disturbed.”
Looking around to find the nearest exit, Pastor Homes hesitated with a response. Would this distraught young lady pull out a gun, knife, kill him? The poor thing looked awful. He couldn’t tell if she were actually speaking to him or to Him.
“It almost worked, you know. A month after I graduated high school, I thought I would be trapped forever. So I planned it, my escape — suicide. Even after she had treated me so badly, I wanted to spare my mom from another emotional breakdown. That’s why I’ve decided to make my suicide appear to be an accident.”
Slowly moving the red, paint-stained shawl, she took the pistol from her jeans.
For a brief second Pastor Homes feared death.