Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up. I need your loving hands to come and pick me up. (FM Static)

In my pacing, I noticed the empty chapel. The dingy decade-old chairs were complimented by the decrepit bibles and brochures. The altar below the big cross was all that truly mattered though.

I knelt at the altar and formed prayer hands.

Dear God,

I know you're up there but I don't understand. You can hurt me, I deserve it. You can hurt anyone and I might not like it but I can understand it. Everyone makes mistakes but not Christian. He's so close to perfect it's... it's impossible. It's impossible that you could take him away. We need him here. He gives so much to the world. He loves you Lord and he works so hard to spread the gospel. Lord, he doesn't deserve to die. Save him please.

I know I'm trouble and I know I hurt everyone I come into contact with and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so bad. I'm sorry that I can't be good. I'm sorry that I ever tried to made myself part of Christian's life. I'm sorry, Lord, I'm sorry.

I would bring him down, I understand that and I will stay away, I promise, just let him live. I take responsibility for it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Amen didn't come. I rested my head on the altar and cried. I didn't see Christian's mother again until I returned to the waiting room but she had been there.

The doctor walked out and started toward us. He had a serious expression. I expected anything but good news with a face like that.