B.C.
BEFORE CRISIS
The Garden
Genesis 3:1 King James Version
“Now the serpent was more subtil than any beast of the field which theLordGod had made. And he said unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?”
One
ANDREA
Diffused late afternoonsunshine streaks across the muted rose carpet, dust spiraling like microscopic fairies twirling to unheard music as my fingers idly weave my hair into a braid.
I’ve been thinking about cutting it. Not just a trim either. I want it chopped. Maybe dyed too. Something cool and edgy— something drastic. Somethingdifferent.
Because I don’t feel like myself anymore.
I’ve become a passenger in this body, wearing a costume of the Andrea I used to be. The obedient seventeen-year-old daughter. The confident cheerleader. The responsible older sister. The supportive friend.
Wide brown eyes blink at me in the window's reflection, tears collecting on dark lower lashes.
Part of me misses her.
The rest of me resents her.
Her ignorance, her bright optimism, her painfully naive existence.
Did you really think praying would work?
That God would actually listen?
Heat prickles across my skin.
All summer, I've cried on my knees at my bedside,pleadingwith Him to have mercy on my best friend, Remy. I’ve never felt more helpless than the night Win left. The night he shattered. Ever since, I’ve been utterly useless, standing on the other side of an invisible barrier, unable to reach him through the mental illness consuming his brain.
I've known for months that something was off with him, but I made excuses.
Why?
Because I was too busy beingher.
My hair tie snaps.
The staring contest with my reflection breaks. A white line appears on my finger. Swells. Turns red.
Dropping the unbound rope of hair, I lean fully against the window, curling my toes into the velvet cushion.
A delicate knock.
“Drea?”
Blowing out a sigh, my eyelids fall shut at my little sister’s timid voice.
Shuffling.
“Daddy is on his way home now.”
