The place she found herself in was familiar. She had been there a thousand times before, and had each time promised herself that she would never return. Here she was again. The loneliness was crippling. She only wished that there were silence. If only such a luxury and comfort were alotted in a place like this. No, all she had was her own inner-monologue; that is all it really was. But to her, it sounded like a thousand voices screaming her name like an obscenity.
We know. You're a filthy liar. You're a cheat. You are cheap. You have no hope, dear. Your sins have found you.
You're dirty. You're used. You're corrupted. You can never go back. Worthless. You chose this!
She tried to argue with them. The trouble with arguing amongst oneself, even whilst under the delusion that you are speaking to many, is that there can be no real resolution. She knew this, but there was no bringing her mind back to rationality. That, alongside sanity, was left behind a hundred miles before. She gave them up.
She chose the life she thought she wanted. She chose to leave Him.
She thought that they could satisfy her. She thought she could care for herself. She thought that she had her best interest in mind. Trouble is, she did.
Harlot. That is your new name. That's all you know how to be. You wanted this, remember? Remember when you were free? You hated that. Remember when you danced for Him? Don't. He wasn't good for you. He knew nothing about your desires. He could never have been enough.
The voices she was hearing were no longer from her own tremulous heart. She knew no different, though. To her, they all sounded the same.
She was less than a shadow of who she used to be. Yes, she used to dance. Her freedom would cause joy to bubble inside of her, until it overflowed into leaps and twirls. She couldn't contain it, and that was the best part.
He loved it when she danced. It was because of Him, after all.
What tormented her more than the voices was the memory. She would rather die than remember that she gave Him up. There was no more reason. There was nothing left. She was empty, used, and broken.
That is when He works best.
She was paralyzed with fear by that Voice. She knew it well. But she didn't remember it. The other voices were too loud. They were beginning to panic, shrieking a piercing chaos that surrounded and penetrated her. She fell to the ground, her knotted hair and tattered dress caking with dirt. She couldn't handle the pressure of the pain anymore. She was broken, yet she thought her only release would be in breaking. She wanted an end. All she had, and all she could see, was darkness. Cold, hard darkness.
You are nothing! You are worthless! Give up, you child of Hell. Give up! Quickly! You must give in! You cannot do anything else! Stop pretending that you have a chance! You stupid child! You have nothing else to live for! Just go to your death! You can rest there! Give into death!
She was sure that was the only answer. Desperation is not strong enough a word. Neither is hopelessness. Bondage was all she knew. Guilt. She was guilty, and she knew it. She was sure that nothing could save her.
Come, darling. I am here.
She was so very ready for her death. She was ready for anything that would end this suffering. It felt like rotting inside of her, as if her spirit had died long ago. She knew nothing else to do.
Then, the owners of the voices saw Him.
She is ours! She is ours! You know what she is! Leave this place!
And He replied,
She was, and always will be Mine. I have chosen her. Leave her.
Who shall pay? Who shall pay? She is guilty! Someone must pay! We own her!
This time, His voice boomed like the dawn of creation itself. The ground shook, and the voices were silenced.
I have paid. I have taken her cup. I shall tell you once more, and there will be a day when you shall be forever silenced. Leave her. She is mine.
And so they left her. She could barely hear His arguing with them at first. As He had begun to plead her case, they began to push her more. They wanted her soul. She thought that they already had her. She thought that they had already won. She had no idea why their cries were fading.
Then she heard Him. She remembered His voice, which she knew so well. She dared to lift her face, and was nearly blinded by His glory. His majesty was unmatched, and His love for her overwhelmed her.
You are mine, darling. You are not your sins. You are my beloved. My suffering has cleansed you.
She felt like dancing.
This piece was written as a response to this post on the GND blog.
The first song I was listening to when I started writing this was the proposed Save Me by Avenged Sevenfold. Believe it or not, I immediately thought of a Misty Edwards song after that. What's the correlation between Avenged Sevenfold and Misty Edwards? This songfic, apparantly.