There Will Be Blood

HONKING HORN.

The cars on the freeway move at a dizzying speed. Standing on the sidewalk of the overpass, Jesus grips the fence that Sally once crossed, for what would be the first and last time in her life. And it was all Jesus’ fault: words that he shouldn’t have said and deeds that he should’ve done but he didn’t. The weight of his sins hangs heavily upon him. It’s time for Jesus to pay the price for his mistakes. After taking a deep breath, he lifts one leg over the fence, unsure of what awaits him on the other side.

From the far end of the overpass, Annie—Sally’s best friend—comes running, her screams lost among the deafening noise of the freeway.

Dismissing Annie’s plea, Jesus swings his other leg over the fence, teetering on the edge as he clings to the railing. His shaking knees beg him not to go further. The cars zoom down the freeway at a deadly speed, daring anyone who attempts to cross it. And Sally dared to jump. Would Jesus too?

Annie keeps shouting as she gets closer.

“Sally,” Jesus mutters and blinks, and in an instant, as if on cue the sunny sky turns cloudy. A deep and overwhelming desolation engulfs the entire freeway, leaving an unsettling sense of estrangement; the sense of being rejected by the world. Although Jesus can still hear muffled echoes of Annie’s shouts, he can no longer see her anywhere on the overpass. The cold breeze brings the haunting scent of Sally instead, accompanied by the melancholic melody of a crow’s symphony of death. A mad, hollow laughter from his left only intensifies the already gloomy and dismal ambiance.

Sally stands on his left, looking directly into Jesus’ eyes. Surges of regret wash over the despair in her tearful eyes.

Jesus has been transported through time, arriving at the pivotal moments just before Sally’s tragic suicide. He stretches out his hand to caress her cheeks with the tip of his fingers; the gesture that used to do magic, soothing her in an instant—a deed that Jesus should’ve done much earlier.

A tear escapes her eye. “I love you,” Sally says, and facing Jesus, jumps on the freeway.

Jesus reaches out and rushes to grab her, but his hand passes through her body as if she is a ghost. With the cry of anguish stifled in his throat, Jesus remains fixated on her gaze, but even the most intense gaze cannot fight gravity.

“No-o-o-o-o-o!” Jesus’ scream escapes and echoes through the freeway as he watches Sally’s slow-motion fall onto the moving cars below.

HONK.

Jesus snaps back to attention, consumed by the immense sorrow of Sally’s last moment.

As Annie’s indistinct voice gradually becomes audible, Jesus struggles to make out the words ‘sick’, ‘pills’, and ‘depression.’ Turning to her in disbelief, Jesus strains his ears to hear more clearly. The shocking story that unfolds shifts the blame of Sally’s death onto someone else: another man who has done to Sally what Jesus could never do.

Annie arrives, panting and out of breath, her black funeral dress fluttering in the wind. She clutches to Jesus’s gray shirt before collapsing to her knees.

Jesus vaults over the fence and hastens to attend to her. “Are you sure?” he asks, desperately craving the affirmative response that would release him from the unbearable burden of guilt.

“Sure… I’m sure,” Annie says between short, labored breaths. She sinks to the sidewalk and leans back against the fence of the overpass.

“How can it be? This doesn’t sound like Sally.”

While gradually regaining her composure, Annie pulls a drug container from her purse. “This is one of the strongest in the market.” She hands it over to Jesus. “It can take down an elephant.”

“When did Sally start taking these?” Jesus asks, studying the label on the container.

“It’s been for many years now, shortly after she broke up with you. He dumped her after their first night. She’s been on drugs ever since.”

“Who is this bastard?” Jesus asks, his overpowering sense of guilt now transformed into an unleashed desire for revenge. “I’m gonna cut off his balls and feed them to the dogs.” Grinding his teeth, he reads the word ‘Caution’ printed on the container with large black letters. Bringing the container closer, he inspects the nearly invisible list of side effects printed in a tiny font at the bottom.

Jesus hears nothing but his own heavy breathing. Feeling the weight of Annie’s gaze on him, Jesus glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

Annie stares at him with a blank expression on her face.

“What?” Jesus asks, turning to her.

“You honestly don’t know him?”

Jesus takes offense at Annie’s accusatory tone. “How would I know such a bastard?”

“Well,” she lets out a brief chuckle. “Because this bastard is always by your side. Your buddy, your pal, your right hand.”

“Who? Paul?!”

“The front runner of good-doers,” Annie continues, disgust taking over her sarcastic voice. “Yes. Paul. Your best friend.”

HONK.

Time stands still. Although the cars on the freeway are no longer moving, the ear-piercing noise of their hunk fills up Jesus’ head.

The freeway noise gradually fades into Paul’s irritating laughter, accompanied by cracking and popping sounds one would hear from a crumbling building. Turned into a vertical jigsaw puzzle, Jesus’ world then comes crashing down on him, revealing Paul’s filthy face behind it, who mocks Jesus with laughter.

Feeling lightheaded, Jesus ascends to the sky, the fury of the world concentrating on his enraged glare.

Paul’s shameless gaze remains void of any remorse as he stands on the grave of his victim: Sally. The murderer that he is, Paul follows Jesus with his gaze, his laughter growing louder and more sinister by the moment.

Floating in the sky, Jesus roars his wrath like thunder, a bolt of lightning striking from his blazing eyes.

The earth beneath Paul’s feet yawns open and swallows him whole into the depths of the grave. His laughter turns into a screech for help as he falls deeper and deeper into an endless abyss, much like what happened to Vincent. No doubt, Paul is at fault for his death too. First Vincent and now Sally. It is time, if not overdue, for Paul to pay for his sins. And Jesus, the voice of God, will gladly perform this sacred task, becoming His executioner too.

Every beat of his bleeding heart pumps a single goal through his veins: revenge. Jesus clenches his fist, his whole body becoming a vessel of vengeance.

The story continues in the book, Jesus of Detroit, which is free on Google Play, iTunes, Amazon, and other platforms.