There is always a price to pay for treachery. 

No matter how justified she felt in lying, she still lied. 

She knew she had, but her spite was greater than her conscience, 

Greater than her faith. 

She had excused herself, and relegated all remonstrations to gaslighting, 

When she knew that she was guilty. 

She could have had a love for the ages, had what it was she’d been seeking for years, 

But her neuroses stood in her way, as they always had, 

And she descended into self-pity and paranoia for no other reason than a fear of judgment, not from her god, but from those she let run her life. 

Her god would judge her now, for she had usurped his grace and absolved herself, 

Unwilling to follow his command and make the world she had stained clean again, 

Listening to anyone who would reinforce her denial and ignoring the truth as hard as she could. 

She had thrown away what He had sent her, rejected love He had made just for her, 

And she had tried to destroy the one sent. 

No, she would not be allowed to traipse off into her fantasy world unscathed, 

Having not answered for her part. 

She would, in her belligerence, bring about her own pain anew and be exposed for her sins. 

Though she could avoid it simply by being faithful, being kind, doing what was right and admitting, giving herself back to the one whom she had betrayed, the one she had punished unfairly, the one who shared her guilt, 

She chose to ignore her duty, to stay silent and confess nothing, to ignore his existence, though she could not and he would never leave her mind, 

And her subconscious guilt would grow, no matter how she tried to fill the hole she had inflicted upon her own heart, 

She would answer for what she had done, and if she would not do so by aiding him with the truth, by mending her own heart and confessing her sins to him, allowing him to seek retribution against those she had set upon him, those who compounded her lies and used her, 

Then she would pay the price in the public square, stripped of her pretenses and her spite being of no avail to her. 

She doomed herself, for no other reason than she could not admit her faults and could not accept the love that she had spurned against her own will, against her own interest, against her own heart. 

She had doomed herself to a life predicated upon lies, so joy would elude her no matter how much she pretended, her fantasy world would collapse. 

The guilt she ignored would eat a hole straight through her soul. 

And there was no reason for any of it, as all she had to do was admit, seek him and be human. 

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thegrendel@tutamail.com