Johanna

I struggled to open my eyes as a flicker of light passed by, faint voices growing clearer as I regained consciousness. I forced my lids open, and as my vision cleared, an image of a woman with dark curly hair met my gaze.

I jolted upright, instantly feeling a pang of pain in my head.

"W-where am I? Who are you?" I asked in a panic, lifting myself from the bed despite the throbbing pain dominating my body.

"No, no, dear, don't try to get up yet. You're safe here, don't worry," the woman cautioned, gently helping me back down. "Before you ask again, my name is Marina Jacob. You're in our Pastoral house."

My eyes widened at her statement. "Excuse me? Pastoral house? Wait... what do you mean, ma'am?"

"Pastor Eyasan found you unconscious near a bar, and it seemed like no one was around to help you, so he decided to bring you here... to keep you safe."

I nodded as realization dawned on me. The last thing I remembered was falling to my knees... and praying. As funny as that may sound, I clearly remembered my words. I lowered my gaze, the memory of my dimming sight flashing in my mind.

Oh my goodness.

I looked up at the woman before me. Ah... the Jesus people.

"I'm so sorry for being a bother, ma'am. I really appreciate your help, but I can manage now. I should go..." I said quickly.

"Oh? Is that so? Will your parents be looking for you?" she asked.

I lowered my head at her question. Of course she'd ask that. But it wasn't something I could answer easily. "Uhm, I'm not with my parents," I said quietly.

Her expression shifted from gladness to something more concerned. "Oh... so, who are you living with then, dear, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I live alone... in my apartment. My aunt lives somewhere else, ma'am."

She looked at me intently. "Hmm... if it's alright for me to ask—what happened to your parents?"

I hesitated, unsure of how much to say. "I..." I took a deep breath. "My mom married another man, and my dad died of heart disease when I was five."

Her gaze softened. "Oh... I'm so sorry, dear."

"Yeah... it's okay. I've learned to live with it," I said simply.

"Would you believe me if I told you we're somewhat alike?" she said softly.

I glanced up at her, surprised. "My father died when I was a baby, and my mother was busy with her other family, so... we were left to our grandfather."

A silence settled between us, and my mind scurried for the right words. "So... what happened?" I asked hesitantly.

"Well, I was miserable. I felt so bad and desperate for the love and attention I expected from my parents. With them in different worlds, I never really had that need fulfilled," she explained, her eyes distant. "Because of that frustration, I tried cutting my wrist until it bled badly, hoping to end my life."

My eyes widened as she spoke, even more when she rolled up her sleeves, revealing the scarred marks on her tanned skin.

Whoa.

"What can I say? My life felt meaningless. That's why I did those things," she continued, rolling her sleeves back down.

"Um... but ma'am, you don't look like the kind of person who would've done that," I said, staring at her in disbelief.

She smiled. "I know. That's because my past—all that I was before—has been cleansed by the blood of Christ." She paused, her gaze resting on me. "All I had back then was anger, hate, loneliness... but when I accepted Jesus into my heart, the void was just... filled."

I found myself listening intently, her words striking deep. It wasn't much, but her simple honesty felt like arrows hitting my heart. If my friends were here, they'd probably call me crazy, but I knew it wasn't crazy. It was real—insanely real—and my mind was struggling to process it.

"I may not know exactly what you're going through right now, but God does. And He offers you rest from everything you've been through. There's always hope when you're in Christ."

Her words amazed me. It was as if she'd heard the questions I'd been asking in silence all along. Embarrassed, I felt a few tears slip down my cheeks and hurriedly wiped them away.

I took a shaky breath and lifted my gaze as the woman gently gathered me into her arms. "It's okay, dear. It's no sin to cry."

My cheeks flushed. I had never been embraced like that before, and it felt... comforting.

"You know, dear, if you want to hear more, you're welcome to come tonight. We have a revival crusade at 7 p.m. here on the church grounds."

I nodded without thinking, wiping my cheeks dry.
"I'd love to."

⸻

I fiddled nervously with the skirt Pastor Marina had lent me, my heart pounding as I stared at the giant tent outside the Pastoral house.

"Might as well go in already," I breathed.

I slowly made my way outside, heading toward the church grounds. People bustled about, setting up speakers and equipment. Others, likely earlycomers, were already seated under the tent.

I felt awkward as I walked in my borrowed peach dress, the fabric swaying with the breeze. Skirts and girly things weren't my style, but Pastor Marina's kindness left me no room to complain. After all, it was church.

I checked my phone for the time and sighed, leaning against one of the posts. Before I could even press the button, the screen lit up with Aunt Riza's name.

Oh no...