Satan's Most wanted Person

Why didn't God kill me?

Thank you all for giving this story a chance.
I'm highly amazed at the feedback I'm getting. Such encouragement to keep writing.

Akosua

Suddenly, the atmosphere seems airy and cloudy as though it's about to rain.

There is strange feeling  whenever I get closer to Pastor Elias...an overwhelming urge to cry. A tugging pull in my heart. He has that effect on me and I've come to notice. It makes me want to hug him for some comfort.

So why am I feeling this way?

I'd wanted to scurry off a second ago but now I just want to ask him the one question that has been ringing through my mind.

"Why didn't God kill me?" The moment these words escaped innocently from my lips, tears begin to fall down my cheeks.

Catching him off guard with shock on his face. He clearly wasn't expecting that.

God has the power to kill and give life. Was my life worth sparing, just to suffer in misery?

Pastor Elias takes my hand into his, assuredly gives me a small smile then releases a deep breath of sigh.

We're seated behind the church building on a visitor's bench. Most of the congregation had left at this point with the exception of a few church workers and other roamers who have nothing better to do with their lives I presume.

So why am i still here?

I don't know.

Then I might as well call myself a  wanderer who has so many questions to ask God. One of them is what I have just asked.

After what seems like a long pause, he let go of my hand to pick a handkerchief from his pocket, giving it to me.

As I was wiping my tears with it,

"Why would God kill you, Xorlali? Do you know that killing you is equivalent to killing million souls whose destinies are tied to your purpose on earth?" He says sounding so serious as though I had offended him with my question.

"Million souls? Tied to my miserable pathetic life? You don't mean it Pastor," I challenge his statement with all sense of reasoning.

Once again. He's not making sense and speaking in parables will not grant me scholarship or the financial help I needed so badly.

"I meant what I'm saying dearest one. Your life means so much to God and it carries a great purpose even if you don't believe it now" He continues

I pick my purse from beside me and decided it was high time I go back home and think about myself.

Just when I was about to make a move  he calls my name to stop me...

"Akosua Xorlali, I know you have so many questions and you have some grievances and misunderstandings about everything you're going through per the scriptures I suggested. I'm here to help you." He points out.

Taking a careful moment to watch him clearly with his ethereal handsome features—no doubts and his plain sea blue long-sleeved shirt with black trousers, how is he going to help me aside from offering me nothing but words.

"How?" I ask "How are you going to help me Pastor Elias?"

"Firstly, I'm going to give you something you needed from me about five minutes ago. It will tell you that the heavens truly listen to you deepest thoughts," He says and stands up.

He's very tall might I add. I'm not good at measurements but he could be around 6ft.

I look up at him noticing he is a heterochromia. His iris changing colour slightly from ocean blue to hazel gold.

Suddenly I felt scared. I've never in my life seen eyes changing into a different colour. Maybe he's sick or something. I learnt some sicknesses can cause that.

He smiles at me with a dimple-show on his left cheek. A cute act that helped alleviate my initial fear of his eyes.

Squinting my eyes and trying to think hard through his words. What does he think I needed from him five minutes ago? I just couldn't decipher.

I don't need anything from him for all I know, because, like I said earlier —he's got nothing substantial to offer me other the parables, vain psychological words after mentally assessing my plight.

That's what most pastors do these days.

"I don't remember asking you for something. So what do you mean by that?" I ask

"You think you didn't, you know you didn't but I felt you did." He replies leaving me more confused and astounded." You didn't need to ask and I never said you requested for something but I know you needed it so much"

"Needed what exactly?" I laugh raising my hand in question. I don't see the head and tail of whatever we're discussing now.

"Let me show you. I want you to stand for me please" He says whiles holding me up on my feet, gently.

"Oh! Your handkerchief you can have it back"

Just as I was handing it him, he holds my palm that has the handkerchief in it, firmly in his. "No, keep it. You're going to use it in the next 25 seconds"

He then pulls me into an embrace mode. Wrapping my hands around him.

He was hugging me.

I didn't know how to respond to this sudden act. Why was he hugging me?

Was this what he thinks I needed?

My thoughts were jammed up for the first five seconds. I'm mentally counting the seconds because he said I was going to use the handkerchief in 25 second.

It hit me again... that strange urge of needing a hug, a comfort.

Now he's giving it to me.

No no.. I try pulling myself away from his hold. But, I honestly ended up doing it so weakly.

How did he know I needed a hug? I was contemplating.

It also seems the more I force myself away from him and there's this electrifying magnetic power that rather pulls me deeper in, to receive more of his hug.

As though I had been craving for it for years.

"Please, let it stop." I let out a cry for help on his shoulder.

He was still holding me silently. Like he'll never let go.

"The pain I'm suffering, I can't bear it any longer. If‐ if you're closer to God, tell him to let it stop." Uncontrollable tears kept pouring, soaking his shirt and as he had predicted I was wiping them from the back of his shoulders with his handkerchief.

Still holding me securely in his embrace with a sultry soothing voice that sounded like an echo, "I can truly feel your pain Xorlali. You will overcome it soon. I promise you. God has never forgotten you"

He wasn't helping...this time, his words got me wailing till I was falling off —collapsing slowly in his grip.

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