Page 123 of Satan's Spawn
It’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about the past few days.
Humans are not born evil or sinful, they’re driven to it.
It’s one thing about Catholicism I’ve never agreed with.
To believe an innocent baby can be born from sin and need to be washed of it in order to be seen as a child of God.
I don’t consider myself an overly religious person.
I believe wholeheartedly in God, and went to church every Sunday in the past, yes, but it was mostly because my Dad was a devout Catholic and I always wanted to feel close to him. It became another thing, like the ocean, that the two of us shared.
Eventually the church pews became part of another lesson my father tried so hard to teach me: be the better person no matter what.
The good we do for others is never between us and them, but between our soul and the God who created us.
I found the idea to be so beautiful I eventually felt comfort in it. Until the man who made me believe in God’s mercy was taken from me by him.
Since Dad died I haven’t been able to step foot in a church, let alone try to understand why the same God who gave me the gift of a father like Andrew Dawson, would also take him away.
I never had the heart to take off the cross Dad gave me, though, because it’s all I have left of him.
I made a decision last night as I laid up in my bed, trying to not only figure out when Crayton will return, but what the hell inspires me enough to write a whole poem about. One that will also grant me Mr. Becketts approval.
Then it hit me…Dad.
So, I decided I will visit a place this weekend that I haven’t dared to even walk past in over two years.
I just have to get through this Friday first.
“Penny for your thoughts, California?” Riggs plops down in the chair next to me, holding a Gatorade and protein bar, which he rips open with his teeth. Levi follows behind him clutching a turkey sub.
It’s about ten minutes into lunch as I sit here waiting for Archer and Hendrix, who had to stay behind in a class they share.
I stir the contents of my veggie noodle soup. “Just thinking about an assignment I have to complete.”
Levi scoffs. “That’s what the geeks are for.”
I roll my eyes, knowing to them, I’m most likely considered just that.
“Yeah, not in my world.”
“Where’s copper top and your curvy friend?” Riggs takes another bite of his bar.
My head whips his way. “Seriously?”
He holds his hands up in defense. “What? I meant it as a compliment. I prefer more cushion for the pushin’ y’know?” He shrugs. “The only bone I want to feel during sex is my own.”
Being considered the “bony type” my entire life has me taking a plethora of offense to that.
Not enough to argue, though, and thankfully I don’t have to, because Saint’s deep tenor comes from behind me. “Must be why the only sex you ever had was between you and your hand.”
Levi cracks up, slapping his knee as he points to his friend. “Fuck, man, you walked right into that one.”
Riggs tries hard not to seem affected by Saint’s comment, but I’m an expert at hiding embarrassment, and it looks a lot like Riggs’s dismissive laugh.
“Fuck off, assholes, we all know I can get any bitch in this dining hall.”
“Except…you don’t.” Saint taps his chin after he sits at my side.
