This is a continuation from Rescued: The Gun
You should have died. No one wants you here. No one loves you. No one would miss you if you were dead. Do what your mother failed to do. End your life.
Carrie pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. She didn’t die.
The gun must have jammed. She was about to check it when there was a knock on the door. She stared at the door, then the gun. Why answer the door? She was about to die. The knocking continued. She tossed the gun aside, slightly annoyed. She wasn’t sure she would be able to build up the courage to pull the trigger a second time. She stood shakily to her feet, and wiped her watery eyes on the back of her hand.
Don’t answer the door! Don’t get up. Pick up the gun! The spirit was frantic. Her hand twisted the doorknob. Don’t! Don’t do it! Carrie opened the door.
The first thing she noticed about the man at the door was his suit. Men in suits never came to her trailer.
“Umm…I’m sorry. My mother isn’t here,” Carrie told him. The man looked too nice to be her mother’s boy friend, but who else could he be? He looked her mother’s age.
“I’m not here to see your mother. I’m here to see you,” the man said. Did she know him? He was tall—a little over six feet. His shoulders were broad and Carrie guessed that under that suit was well toned muscle. He looked like an athlete, but his face looked more like it belonged in an office than a football field. His face was clean-shaven, his dark hair was closely cut to his scalp, and his chocolate colored skin was smooth and clear.
She didn’t recognize him, and she was sure she would remember if she’d seen him before. It wasn’t everyday she saw a bodybuilder/lawyer walking around the trailer park.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Her tone was a little sharp. It was a little unnerving to be alone while a guy that could be a line-backer stood at her door. The gun in the room behind her didn’t even have bullets.
“You can call me Geff,” he said. His voice was soft, but strong at the same time. “I am here to bring you much needed peace.”
“Peace? Are you some kind of preacher?” Carrie asked. She didn’t feel like listening to someone go on and on about how much God loved her. No one loved her.
No one loves you, echoed the blackness hovering around her.
The man chuckled, “In some ways, I suppose I am a preacher. A preacher delivers messages from God. My job is the same.” Carrie was confused. Was he a preacher or wasn’t he?
“Look, I don’t have time right now to…” she started.
“Don’t have time?” Geff looked confused, “But didn’t you call for help?” Was this guy with the police? He could be from the FBI judging by his stature and immaculate suit. All he needed were dark sunglasses.
“I didn’t call anyone. You must have the wrong house,” she told him.
That’s right. You don’t need his help. He can’t help you anyway, whispered the voice.
He can’t help me, thought Carrie, No one can.
“There is help for you Carrie,” the man said. Carrie was startled. How did he know her name? Maybe he did work for the FBI. That would explain why he knew her name, but even an FBI agent couldn’t read minds. It must have been a coincidence.
He lies! said the voice. There is no help, not for you.
“Look, I don’t know who told you to come over here, but I didn’t call anyone to come help me,” she told him feeling a little freaked out by his accurate guessing skills.
Tell him to leave.
“You should leave.”
“’God—if there is a god—help me now.’ Aren’t those your words?” asked Geff. Carrie couldn’t answer. She was astonished that this man knew her exact words. She didn’t even say them out loud. He couldn’t be from the FBI.
“Who are you?” her voice whispered.
“I am someone sent to help show you the truth.”
“Come,” he held out his hand, “Come with me, and I will show you.” Did this man really think that she would go with him? She wasn’t five. She wasn’t going anywhere with a strange man, no matter how expensive his suit was.
Shut the door! Shut the door! Howled the spirit.
She started to shut the door.
“You aren’t an accident,” said Geff looking into her eyes. “No one was made by chance. You were made with a purpose.”
The words stopped her. Could it be true? For some reason hearing the words from this man made her want to believe she was more than her mother’s mistake. Could she have a purpose?
You don’t. You have no purpose. There is no purpose to a life like yours.
Maybe I am an accident, Carrie thought, Maybe there is no purpose to my existence, but maybe—just maybe—there is some reason to my life.
But there isn’t, protested the ugly spirit, Don’t listen to his stupid lies!
“What purpose?” she asked. “What purpose could I have? You don’t know anything about me, or my life.”
“There is only one who truly knows the purpose of each individual’s life. I can’t tell you what your purpose is, but I can assure you that you do have one.”
Carrie’s anger stirred at the words. This man was just playing with her. He didn’t know the meaning of life anymore than she did. If he couldn’t tell her straight out, then she was an accident, a mistake.
You are a mistake. Don’t let this man’s words deceive you. Your whole life is a mistake.
“I have a purpose huh, but you can’t tell me what it is. It sounds to me like there is no purpose. There is no reason to life.”
The man’s deep brown eyes were compassionate as he spoke, “There are things that you can’t see, Carrie. There are things that can only be revealed. Do you want your eyes to be opened? Do you want to see what is unseen?”
No! Don’t listen to his ridiculous ramblings. There is nothing beyond what you can see. Only the things seen by your eyes are real. There is nothing more than that.
“Do you want to see truth?”
The story continues: The Boxes
Previously: The Gun
This is the second part of a five part series called Rescued.