I am wearing a small robe, the material soft and clean and alien to my skin.
I am a slave.
I am determined to be good.
I am nervous, scared even.
I am walking with a holy book of Amarrian prayers in my little arms. I'm clutching it to my chest like a shield.
I'm quietly padding my way through the Chapel, my small, bare feet slapping gently on the bare stone and marble with each step.
The sound of my footsteps echo down the dark, empty halls, most of the Chapel having gone to sleep. While the mining camp itself is still semi-active, the night mining crew still working, there is a sense of quiet and solitude in the halls and camp.
I walk into the main devotional room, the pews seemingly an endless series of steps to the priests pulpit.
I knew Father Yervanian would be here. He seems to never sleep.
He is sweeping the pews, fighting an endless war against the dust and grim that his miner parishioners bring up from the mining pits. Though the other priests tell him all the time that he shouldn't, he always says that there is no service to God is too unimportant.
I watch him a moment, and take a deep breath, steadying myself. His sermon today spoke of forgiveness for the bad things one has done, of asking forgiveness from God.
I listened intently the whole time, a mixture of wonder and fear as I did. I thought he was speaking right to me.
I shouldn't have eaten the food.
It was my friends. And now they're gone.
I walk up to him, the large book heavy in my arms, but a young child's determination drives me toward.
I walk up behind him. Though my little footsteps sound so loud to my ears, he doesn't seem to hear me, and continues to sweep.
"Father Yervanian?" my young voice asks quietly. I'm still not comfortable with speaking, especially in the presence of the priests.
He starts a bit, then turns to me, his shockingly pale blue eyes finding me in the dark room.
"God in Heaven Adrean, what are you doing up? You should rest child...your shift will begin soon..." He frowns at the last words, as if he is sorry for having to say them.
"I...I listened to your Tenth Day sermon Father." I swallow. "You said people should pray if they've done wrong. I....I found a prayer I was hoping you would pray for me. I....I dont know if I can do it right."
I shove the prayer book up to him, nervous but determined. I was bad, and I was selfish, and I want to be good in God's eyes. I want to be good in Father Yervanian's eyes.
His face is somewhere between cautious and incredulous. "Ok child, but...." He looks down.
Im shaking, and my tiny voice grows even quieter. I'm afraid I picked the wrong passage. Reading is still very hard for me, but I think its the right passage, the one Father Evcin said is for those who do very bad things, for those who take the lives of those they should love instead.
"I....I think I found the prayer for me." I look down, at my feet, as I always do around Amarrians. Im shaking, and trying not to cry.
I hear him open the book, to the bookmarked page. He starts anew. "The Prayers for the Damned? Penitent murderers? By all the Saints, where did you find this? Why...?"
He doesn't finish. I;m shaking. I'm so ashamed. Tears well up in my eyes.
"I'm so sorry I ate their food. I didn't mean to. I was so hungry. I tried not to." The words flood out of me, spilling over, my voice stronger now than I can remember, even between the little boy sobs.
"What....what are you talking about child?" He kneels, and I see his blue eyes looking at me with a worried look, his pale face showing more concern than I knew a priest could show. At that moment, it was the face of God to me.
Its too much to look at. I bury my face in my little hands. I don't deserve to be pitied.
"I..ate their food...they were gone...they were all gone....it was just me....I didn't want them to go...I...", sobs interrupt my confession. Images run through my head. The pouring rocks. The woman who held my hand, then told me to run. All my friends, the fellow children, the older miners who were good to me.
The young woman who would always give me food.
I cling to their images in my brain, refusing to let them go, to fade away forever.
"They were all gone...I waited...I would have waited...." my little body shakes, and it all floods out of me.
"Oh child, you speak of the accident..." Yervanian's voice has a rising tone of understanding. I feel his comforting hand on my back. That simple act of kindness makes me cry uncontrollably.
"Its not your fault. Adrean, listen to me. Please. It's natural to feel guilt when we survive and those we love don't. I know you would have saved them if you could. God knows that."
I squeeze my eyes tighter at that. It's like he's found my secret fear.
Yervanian's voice is quiet, his words filled with a quiet sense of understanding that I don't quite grasp. "It is a hard thing, to live on when others you love are gone. Please put your faith in God, and rejoice that those you love are now at His side."
"But...but why me...I...they're all gone...I should be gone....Why did God save me, and not them...I ate the food, I was bad...they weren't..." my voice croaks between sobs, my nose running, my face damp with tears.
"Hush child. Please." He hugs me briefly, awkwardly even, then seems to return to his seemingly natural state of priestly concern and dignity. "God's ways are His own, Adrean. He kept you here because His plan for you is not over. I know you miss your friends. I know it hurts that they're gone. And I know its hard when so many are gone and you still remain."
"All we can do..." he seems to catch himself, and he takes a breath, steadying himself a moment, "all you can do is devote yourself to God the best you can, to promise that you will live your live the way He asks. That is what He asks of us. That is the way we can give thanks to God for our lives, and to honor the memories of those who are gone."
I listen, still crying, the words burning and sharp and ring with the sound of truth to my young ears. My body is still shaking violently.
I keep crying, something in me seeming to release and give way, and months of fear and anxiety and guilt flood out of me. Yervanian keeps an arm around me, awkwardness battling with sympathy in his movements, and he seems to understand that I just need to cry and cry.
Finally, it seems to end, and I rub one sleeve over my face, under my nose, wiping away the tears and snot and trying to appear clean in the house of God, like we're told to be.
I speak softly, my voice staggered with the little spasms of someone who's been crying for too long. "I'll try to be good Father, I promise."
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