Heaven is Heart-broken

"Good morning, brothers and sisters in the lord!" The middle-aged man dressed in a dirty grey suit with a big bible shouted moments after he got onto the bus. He seemed to be drunk with the word of the Lord and little wine.

At the rear end of the luxurious bus sat Heaven - a pretty young lady, with a burnish complexion. Her feelings were hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crinkle of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. But her eyes reflected her soul, and in it was an ocean of sorrows.

For the first time since she entered the bus, she raised her head to take a really hard long look at the strange preacher.

In split seconds, she examined him and drew up a conclusion – he must be a jobless man, probably with five children and a wife. This morning, he woke up, dug up that suit which has no current relationship with a pressing iron, dusted his bible, off he went to the nearest bus station waiting for the arrival of this bus.

In about fifteen minutes, he would rant and rave, gesticulating wildly, telling them about the love of Christ, His healing power, unfailing protection and His reward of everlasting life which He will only give if first, we give Him our lives. He would then pray with velocity, energy and a pious sincerity that could melt even the most stubborn atheist's icy heart carefully choosing his words.

Before going into the real business where he would then call on a lady who has paid undivided attention to his sermon, asking her to collect offerings, even tithe from everyone. Nothing is too small and your token will enable the church to move to a permanent site.

A thin smile appeared on her lips, staring straight at the preacher, she murmured "Fake pastor! I decoded those tricks a long time ago. If your God is that good, how come you are this wretched? I want nothing to do with such god".

After a long hiss, already feeling simmering anger in her chest, she slowly rests her head against the seat in front sinking back into her thoughts.

Heaven is heartbroken, filled to the brim with regret and remorse. She has given up on life, love, and even God. Attempted suicide twice but lack the balls to go through with it. Every ounce of her wished she had the nerve to swing her body off the top of a building; to walk deep into the depths of the ocean and stay down under; to take a gun and place the cool metal down her throat, pulling the trigger, shooting away the pain.

Everything has fallen apart, nothing holds any longer. She is just twenty-four but soon she will be counting days to the end of her life that just began. Everything that once brought her pleasure now brings only misery and untold pain. Why did it happen to her? How could love be this wicked? How could just one mistake lead to such a grave disaster?

She is in so much emotional pain and it doesn't hurt as a cut or a bruise would. It is just this heavy feeling. Her head spins and the only explanation she can sum up for the pain is how she is the cause. All that does is bring even more pain.

A headache started in the back of her skull, pounding, warning her she wouldn't like what she found. She fought her thoughts backwards, pushing through to remember the cause of this emotional pain.

Her life took a drastic turn about six months ago. In a bus just like this one, she sat next to Peter – a fine-looking young man with a great body and adventurous personality. His face strong and defined; his features moulded from granite. He had brown eyes, dark eyebrows, which slid downwards in a serious expression. He had a prominent cheekbone, a well-defined chin, and nose. He was in a stunning outfit. At the sight of him, she miraculously fell under his spell. The feeling was so strong and beyond her control. After she tried everything within her power to get his attention and failed.

She bit her lip, how would she start a conversation with someone she just met? Then in that instant he turned and caught her eye; before she could turn away bashfully a genuine grin appeared across his face, turning it from handsome to the divine. At that moment she felt her body flush warm. This was a person she wants to know more about. This was a guy she could love forever.

When he said "Hi, my name is Peter!" a playful smile cut a hard line across his face. He had the most magnificent voice – soft and low, each syllable articulated, with flowing rhythm and inflexion that was almost musical with a hypnotic affect. Her heart fluttered as a million butterflies zipped inside her stomach. He seemed to like and found her interesting as a few minutes afterwards both of them were laughing and giggling like children; resulting in a stare all over the bus.

It was as if time and space became the finest point imaginable; as if time collapsed into the tiny speck and exploded at light speed. From that very moment, every other person or thing faded into the background. All that mattered was the handsome devil beside her.

Later that night, she pondered his words, recalling little in particular that he had said because he never said anything concrete, but rather the special feeling it had given her. She pictured him smiling at her, exposing those perfect white teeth through his pale and thin kissable lips.

The way he looked at her, with his eyes boring into her soul, filled with desire and lust. The way his rough and hard palm wandered around her body, from her shoulders to her laps almost into her bosom. He was imprudent, witty and incredibly bold with hands quicker than safe. He praised her qualities so fulsomely that she blushed.

He said all the right things in the perfect way; certainly, a love affair with him will be adventurous, one with pure pleasure, an exciting brush with danger and this trills her.

Having being raised in a good Christian family with a strict and overprotective father who locked her up while growing up, preventing her from any form of adventure as a child and teenager. This resulted in an inner yearning for a little adventure and danger. She wanted to be free of the constraints of virtue and decency. Someone to take the wheel; own and possess her and Peter seem not to have the fear of God. He would free those repressed desires that cry out for liberation.

It was as though he never left like he was there in the room with her; mentally not physically. He was all in her head like a song stuck on replay. She lay on her bed rolling from side to side; she couldn't catch any Z's.

Is she in love already? But that's not right, love is supposed to take time, probably develop from friendship. Love at the same time is crazy and always out of control; she was crazy about him and her love for him was way out of control. Is she thinking with the ready wet V in-between her legs?

This feeling is so strange, stretching throughout her body. Overwhelming, yet makes her complete. It has no bound nor length nor depth, just absolute. Feels as though she is in a furious fire, yet completely safe at the same time; as though her heart is dancing around her chest; and a hole she was never aware was there, has been filled.

It's strange; frightening even; how can he go from a complete stranger to someone giving her such intense feeling in just a day. Was it just a crush? She has had many of those and none felt this way. Isn't she acting like an infatuated girl; acting all loosed but the heart wants what it wants and doesn't care?

She woke up the next morning to meet the most romantic text from him. In it, he offered her praises that would make the heart of any woman melt like butter icing on a sunny day. He was seducing her in all the right ways and right places, she knows this but loves it.

He was an artist creating the illusion she required, reflecting her fantasy and idealizing her portrait. He had somehow within a day made himself her ideal lover. After all, it was more about her love for him not his for her.

A week passed, with the love, lust, passion growing with such grave intensity; as Peter – the heartless seducer seduced her further with romance and burning sexual desire. She could no longer wait to possess his body, to have her hands caress his smooth flawless skin all the way down to that dark region and to have his lips locked with hers in a deep passionate kiss.

Finally, an opportunity to bring her fantasy to the reality presented itself when Peter called and asked her over. In the most innocent of tones, without thinking she agreed. It was a date – they are to meet in a hotel around seven pm the day after the next day.

Heaven didn't bother to ask why it was a hotel and not his place. Even if it was a rat hole, she was ready, willing to go there with him. His impetuous words, the fantasy, and danger of it all – her head was whirling, she was lost. What were virtue and her prior boredom compared to an evening with this handsome devil?

Immediately, he dropped the call, he credited her bank account with a sufficient amount of money to cover all her expenses. What could be more seductive?