SEX REBELS OF JESUSLAND, mini-chapter 153

153. A TERRIBLE TIME TO DIE.

How can I die now before I’ve told Eve that I love her? I know I am unworthy of her, but I must tell her I’ve always loved her, and still do, in my new unworthiness. She must know I do, but I’ve never told her in so many words. I’ve never poured my love over her in plain speech. And now I’m about to die in this bizarre way. My head sawed off by a Muslim.

This is my fate in the United States Under Christ?

My government cannot protect me from the hated Muslim Brotherhood terrorists here in the strongest country on earth? Jesusland can’t save me?

“Do you have anything to say, infidel?”

Adam looked into the masked man’s eyes.

“Why don’t you show me your face?” he asked the masked man. “Why do you hide your face when you kill? What are you afraid of?”

I amaze myself. I speak like a man with courage. I’m facing death, and I am challenging it.

The man drew his knife lightly across Adam’s throat.

It touches my skin like a finger, like the walk of an insect across my neck. I am going to die. I will feel terrible pain, the blood will run out of me, and I will not be able to call it back. I will bleed like a goat sacrificed in some loathsome pagan ceremony. A blood sacrifice to Allah, an evil God. This is an initiation I don’t want to be part of.

Dear God, help me. I never told Eve I loved her outright and forever. Even though I am a sinner. Does she love me? Why must it end before we open our hearts to each other? What does she feel for me? I will never know.

After all the years of wishing for revenge, this is what I get. A death at the hands of the same enemy who vaporized my first love. She went up in ashes, and I will be emptied of my blood. Where is God? Who is He to allow this? Is Eve right, is God absent?

I can tell this man with the knife, my executioner, is smiling. He will enjoy what he is about to do. He won’t do it with distaste. He will do it with pleasure. He will do it with a sense of justice. I am a dog to him.

Spare me this, God. If it is within Your power, hurl a thunderbolt now. Don’t let me die like this, like an animal with its throat cut.

I see the knife.

“No!”

“What do you say?” asked the Muslim behind the mask.

“No, don’t do it!’ Adam screamed. “I will help you find another infidel, a bigger infidel than me! Bible promise! I will bring you a very important infidel to kill, just set me free.”

I want to live. I don’t want to die. Why have you forsaken me, God? Why did you give Eve back to me, why did you let me rescue her, and now you take me away from her before I can tell her I love her and before I can hear what she feels about me? I will renounce her if you let me live. I will renounce all women. Are you punishing me for sleeping with women? Is this why I deserve this death? Spare me, God, please. Please, please. I can’t live with this fear. Maybe I should die now, for this fear to be over. I am shaking.

I feel the knife against my throat. It is cold. It draws itself across, lightly, and now it goes across again, harder, cutting into my skin. It is finding its way into my throat, making a path for it to saw into me. I am shitting myself. I am crying. My shit and my tears are leaving me, making way for my blood to do the same. I shit myself in abject fear, too scared to beg for my life. All is darkness. There is no next.