Novel & Cerita Pulp Fiction Prayer

April 4th was my brother, David Frost’s birthday. While I lay alone, helpless, down on my last breath, my parents sat together at home, celebrating the birthday of their beloved son. A sharp pain suddenly clenched at my heart, and tears blurred my vision, making it impossible to see the calendar in the lobby or the nurse’s face. “So, being a ghost is just like being alive… you can cry, you can feel pain...” I thought to myself. The nurse seemed as stunned as I was.

He yanks upward on the chain pulling Nico back to his knees and I feel the tears that I thought had dried up spill from my eyes. Damian sniggers and then I feel him push hard and roughly inside of me, my eyes squeeze shut and I try to block it out, to take myself to anywhere but here like I normally do but it’s impossible. Knowing Nico is right there, like this and I am helpless to stop it, to help him. There is no escape from this moment, I have never been religious but I send a prayer to whatever might be out there to help us, for karma, or divine intervention, or anything to come and strike him down. Truly he is the most evil thing to ever walk this earth.

After a long time, Vincent cupped his hands and bowed his head to pray. “Forgive me for all the sins I have committed. For all the anger that made me like this. I'm not a good follower of Yours. I beg you, if I die, don't put me in hell. I... I don't know who or what I am right now. Help me! I don't want to die!” Vincent whispered as he shed tears.

“I let him breathe. That’s not the same thing.” Vincent’s silence followed me down the hall. Outside, the air was cool, heavy with the promise of rain. The engines growled to life as I stepped into the back seat. Through the window, I could see the faint lights of the city bleeding into the horizon. My reflection stared back at me, half shadow, half man. The devil wearing a saint’s name. And somewhere across town, a priest was probably on his knees, praying for deliverance. Let him pray. Because when I was done with the prison, I’d go to him so he prays to me too.

Even my lips felt raw from repeating desperate prayers over and over, begging for some kind of absolution. Yes, I was doing penance. Please, Lord, forgive me. It had been an hour since I’d woken up from that hot—no, sinful dream. Our Father, who art in heaven… please forgive me. I squeezed my eyes shut, chanting every prayer I knew, adding a few ad-libs for good measure. It was the dead of night, yet here I was, kneeling against a wall like some medieval flagellant, begging for mercy like a sinner in a confessional.

I prayed with every fiber of my being that his eyes would flutter open and look back at me with that familiar, soul-stirring warmth. ​"Did you suffer a lot? I know you must be in an immense amount of pain right now. You have so many wounds, and a gunshot wound... that has to hurt terribly, right?" My voice broke into a heavy sob, and I leaned my forehead against our intertwined fingers. "You took all of this damage because of me. You’re lying here because of me, and I just want to beg for your forgiveness. Do you want me to kneel for you... so you can find it in your heart to forgive me? Because I will. I’ll gladly kneel right here."

the pillar of the youth wing. But as the choir began a slow, soulful chorus, I felt the weight of the "Shadow’s" threats pressing against my chest like hot lead. Every time my phone vibrated in my tote bag, I imagined it was a message from the Pastor—not with a scripture, but with a screenshot of my suspicious bank statements. "Sister Mary, please lead us in the opening prayer" The Youth Pastor, a man with eyes that seemed to see through every "holy" facade, was gesturing toward the pulpit.

He commanded, gesturing to two pillows opposite himself. ‎ ‎Leviathan took a seat first, offering me his left hand. I gazed down at him, rolled my eyes, ignored his hand and took a seat next to him. He didn't say a word instead he just let out an abject smile, returning his hand to it's original position. ‎"Let's begin with a prayer" Priest Phillip said and we obliged, “Close your eyes" ‎“Almighty God we come before you with a heart filled with happiness. We want to thank you for bringing us here, and we pray that may you watch over the festivities this evening...." Priest Phillip prayed but my hearing became interrupted by the annoying sound of Leviathan's voice.

Once we were all together, Dad signaled for me to lead the prayer. I took a deep breath and nodded, realizing that this was something I could do. As we gathered in the living room, I closed my eyes and began to speak, my voice trembling. "Lord our God, You are great and almighty. We come to You with humble hearts, pleading for Your mercy. Please keep Poppy safe from all harm and bring her back to us safely. We're lost without her. She's the light of my life, and I can't imagine a world without her. Give her strength, wherever she is. And give us the strength to keep hoping, to keep believing that she'll come back to us.”

No one had disturbed it this morning. “Hail Mary, full of grace…” Panting out a Hail Mary, Milli forced herself to drop her robe on a lounger. “Pray for us sinners…” saying another, she stepped closer until she was at the edge. A five on the floor under her feet felt smooth over the scratchiness of the concrete. “Now and at the hour of our death…” Her face was already wet from tears as she forced her body to draw in a single breath at a time and repeat.