The sun shinned brightly through the window this morning. I overheard my Grandparents downstairs. They were getting ready for church as they did every Sunday morning. I figured that I would wait till they left before I got out of the bed. Unfortunately that didn't happen. There was a sudden knock at the door. As usual she entered after the second knock not waiting for my reply.

"Good morning dear. Grandpa and I are going to church. We would like you to go with us today."

I groaned. "Why?"

"Dr. Givens says that you need to get out more and your Grandpa and I think so as well. So come on now get dressed and let's go."

"Do I have to?" I whined like a two year old, pulling the cover back over me, trying to stay warm.

"Yes, I'm not asking you to, I'm telling you to. Now get dressed," she demanded.

I drug myself out of the warm bed. I found the black dress hanging in my closet. After putting it on, I fingered through my hair; who needs a brush anyway? I didn't put on any makeup. I then went down stairs and grabbed a piece of toast from the kitchen table. I was still yawning of course.

I got in the car even though I didn't want to and as my Grandpa backed out, driving down the road I didn't even think about what direction we would go. As he went to take a right I whispered, "No!"

"What is it Shayla?" Grandma had asked tilting her head back in my direction.

"Can we go a different way, please?" I asked nicely.

"But this is the way to church. We always go this way." She protested, stubborn in her everyday routine.

"Please, I can't." I started to breath heavy. "Stop. Stop the car, let me out." I tried to open the door, yet the child safety lock had been on and I fiddled around with the lock and door handle and still was unable to open it up. I felt like everything was starting to sway all around me, my hands started to get that clammy feeling.

"It's cold out there; you can't walk there or walk back home dear in this weather," exclaimed Grandma.

"Then please turn around and go a different way." I started to beg. I could feel my chest starting to cave in. My eyes started to fill. I knew the road. I knew it very well and I knew what was on the other side of the small rise in the road. I haven't faced that place since that night. I hadn't even come close. I had managed to avoid the scene, but I knew it was coming. I looked out in front of the car and in the road just up ahead I could see the tire marks. For a second I stopped breathing it was like a balloon when someone lets the air out and then suddenly ties the knot in it so that the air cannot escape. I started to mumble something, in tongue and then out of nowhere I screamed, "Stop the damn car!"

I didn't mean to curse. I never would have in a million years, especially in front of them. However it was like the only thing that I could say to make them listen to me. Grandpa pushed down hard on the brakes and I felt myself being jarred to the front a little. I unbuckled myself, fumbling with the stupid lock and jumped out of the car. He had stopped exactly in the same spot of the accident. Once my feet hit the pavement my knees buckled up and I fell hard on to the pavement. It felt like someone sucker punched me into the stomach, as the wind was being knocked out of me. I felt my stomach turn inside like an old butter churn. The feeling didn't go away and I started to hyperventilate. I heard Grandpa get out of the car and walk over towards me, putting one hand on my shoulder.

Finally realizing that I did not want to come this way he calmly said, "Come Shayla. You were right I should have gone a different way."

Then my Grandma got out of the passenger side and walked over towards us. "You have got to stop babying her, Robert. She has got to start moving on. Now both of you get in the car or we will be late for the service." She always had to be on time, regardless of what was going on with the world around her. Did she even think about my needs?

Perhaps she was right, I needed to move on. But it had only been a few weeks and I just wasn't ready to make the next step. Grandpa held out his hand and I grabbed it as he pulled me up. He walked me back over to the car and I got back in. A part of me hated her at this moment. As I glance up to look in the sun visor mirror I could see that she was hurting as well. She used her used tissue on her cheeks to pat the stray tears. The rest of the way she looked out the window as well as I did. I wonder if we were thinking of the same thing. My mother.

When we got to the church, she got out and I watched the both of them walk hand in hand into the church. They sat at their usual place on the third pew. I walked in slowly behind them. Members of the church wanted to shake my hand as I walked in. Yet I didn't want to be bothered by them. I did find a seat in the back pew. The music started to play, and then the choir started to sing. They had requested for all of us to get up and sing, but I stayed seated. I wasn't thinking of being here. My mind was on the accident again. Finally we were all asked to take a seat. Father Matthews walked in and made his way to the podium to make his daily sermon.

I remember coming here once a year with my parents. Father Matthews always had something good to say. I liked to hear his sermons, but today I had rather been at home in bed. He had welcomed the members of the church and then welcomed all guest. He rambled on and on about the birth of Christ. Considering that Christmas was at the end of the week, the Sunday school kids made a Christmas play and he stopped halfway through his sermon for them. It was a cute play. I can also remember when I was back home going to our church. I would be an angel that looked down on Earth and the baby Jesus. But as I sat here in the back pew I did not pay the kids much attention. I watched the parents instead. I saw them laugh along with the play. A few moms wiped their faces from tears of happiness. What I would give to have my mom here right now.

Father Matthews must have noticed me sitting in the back pew, because when he got back up to the podium he started talking about faith and how we were a family in the church. He talked about all God's children and how miracles sometimes happen. I tried to block the sermon out of my mind. Then he requested for all of us to pray. Afterwards everyone got up and made their way into the dining hall. Everyone had brought a dish from home for a pot luck dinner. I waited until everyone left before I got up. Father Matthews came up behind me and asked me to sit back down for a few seconds.

"Can I have a word with you Shayla?"

Of course I obeyed him.

"I'm glad that you could make it today. How have you been doing?"

"Fine, I guess." It was always so difficult to lie to him and even now I couldn't do it.

"You know things happen in mysterious ways. I think the good Lord has great plans for you."

"Yeah, whatever." I tried to smile.

"Shayla, I know this has got to be very hard for you. I just want you to know if there is anything that I can do please let me know. I'm here for you. The church is here. God is here to listen to you, to help you through this difficult time in your life. Would you like me to pray with you?"

"I'm getting enough therapy, Father Matthews."

"This isn't about therapy Shayla. It's about giving you some of God's love."

"I don't mean to be rude Father Matthews, but if God loved us so much why would he hurt us so?"

"Like I said there is a reason for everything. God has his plans. Maybe you should open up to him again, trust and believe in him." He touched my hand to give me the touch of faith.

I looked down from him to stare at the floor, remembering my Grandmother's words, 'If you can't say something nice don't say anything at all.' This was one of those moments.

"I see." He went to stand up and then turned back to me. "He forgives you for the way that you feel. He knows how difficult this must be for you. Will you join us in our Sunday dinner?"

"Maybe." I followed him into the dining hall. I looked around the room and watched everyone eating and chatting with each other. I turned and walked outside. The cool air hit my face as I walked around the graveyard, like a thousand pieces of glass shattering my skin. I found the graves. They were side by side. I lay on the ground between my parents. I tried to think back when I was smaller. I would jump in the bed with them on the weekends, right smack between them. Both of them would hug me up. Sometimes when my mom got up to take her shower, my father would tell me stories. Then he would get the tickle monster out, (his hand, like a crane, claws for tickling me). He would tickle me until I almost peed on myself.

I laid there for what felt like forever. I heard car doors shut, cars leaving to go home. I heard voices yelling for me. Then voices right over me.

"What are you doing out here, its freezing?" My Grandma looked at me with a stern look.

"Just saying hi." I motioned towards the grave stones. Their names nicely engraved on the stones.

She looked down and then from out of nowhere she sat down beside me. She picked at the grass around the graves, pulling out dead leaves. She smiled and then laid a few flowers down on the graves. "Shayla, I miss them too, you know. This is so hard for me. She was my little girl. I know it is hard for you as well. I was hoping that we could deal with this together; however you seem so far away in your own world. How can I make things easier for you?"

I sat up and looked down for a few seconds. Then I glanced over at her, holding back the tears. "I miss them. I didn't realize how hard life would be without them." She reached over placing her hand on my knee. "Grandma what if I could have stopped it? What if I could have changed all of this?"

"What do you mean Shayla, sweetie there was nothing that you could have done. This wasn't your fault."

She called me sweetie, just like mom. "Everyone keeps telling me that but the truth is, it is all my fault. I knew before it was going to happen. I don't expect you to believe me; no one ever did believe me." I paused taking in a small breath of air. "I knew. I knew Grandma and I didn't stop it from happening. I was just so mad at him. His harsh words, the threats, the way he would look at me with that evil glare. I knew to keep quiet. He could care less about what I knew."

"How did you know; how could you know what was going to happen dear?"

"It's hard to explain and even if I could tell you everything you wouldn't believe it either." I stopped and then looked away towards my Grandpa who was waiting for us in the car. "Let's go, Grandpa is waiting." I got back up and started walking towards him, letting her follow behind me. I didn't have the heart to tell her about the dreams. It was odd; it was like from somewhere that my dad was watching my every little move. He knew if I would talk about the dreams or not and that was one thing that he did not want me to talk about, my childish dreams.