If the people in my congregation were without sin, there would be no need for them to come to church I thought. Indeed I did bite my tongue as grandmother told me but that didn't mean I could let go of that thought.
All the praying, the talks about sins, sinners, hell, and the devil didn't change anything. It only created more hypocrites. They did watch tv, listened to the radio, scolded, cursed and if it came to it they ignored the ten rules. Why? Because they could and said they were the only good people, the only ones God loved and therefore good do as they liked which they did. They abused and beat up their wives and children.
'Ladies first' was what they practiced, ladies first... So many tears behind each wall, so much pain. I knew the church wasn't the place to be if you wanted a better life. A life filled with joy, and laughter and be accepted. Church, those people proved the opposite. If God exists he's deaf, blind, or is a masochist.
"Archibald was a great friend," I said to his mom.
I didn't intend to speak these words out loud but I had to. His mom looked so sad. Would she miss him just like I would? Archibald was the only brightness in my life. He dared to wave as he passed by and saw me sitting behind the window. It was him who discovered where father locked me in to rethink my sins. Tied to a chair I had to sit there for several days and nights. If I was lucky grandmother brought me some water but she never brought me food.
Archibald waited, found a way to sneak inside, and comforted me with his stories about people who lived completely different life than us.
"It was his own fault", father said with a harsh voice.
After he left a half-empty bottle of ketchup on the floor and some blood was all that was left from Archibald. I sat on the chair with my eyes closed and tried to remember his voice but all I could was smell the blood mixed with ketchup. The ketchup that God forbids us to eat but dad hid in the cellar, the same cellar where he punishes me and makes me think about my sins.
See 
