DISCLAIMER: The story you are about to read contains graphic violence and sexual situations. I pray that the reader would be able to look at the deeper meaning of the piece as it relates to Wrestling with Faith. Reader discretion is advised.

      The room was dark. A single-bulb lamp illuminated the computer desk. A young man sat before the computer, typing and scrolling through numerous pages. The computer screen was filled with a variety of pornographic websites and social media posts that displayed some of the harshest, most dehumanizing images and video clips that could be imagined.
​
    The young man clicked through pictures and video clips, looking for the most stimulating. He stopped clicking and watched. The clip played shows a young girl walking alone through the night. She roamed a barking garage, looking for her car. She was dressed in jeans and a cropped black halter top with thin straps over the shoulders. Over the top was a light tan jacket. As she looked for her car, a figure approached her from behind. The figure’s face was covered, but it was evident that the figure approaching was a male. The male ran up to the young lady as quietly as possible and grabbed her halter top, ripping it off her, revealing her breast to the cold night air.

       She tried to cover herself, but the male figure made one last attempt to grab her arms and pull them away from her body, laughing while he was doing it. The young lady crouched to the floor, attempting to protect her body.

        It was not a staged video. The camera was hidden behind a car across from the incident. The young lady was not aware that she would be sexually assaulted, and recorded. She did not know that her humiliation would posted on the internet for strangers to enjoy.

       The computer screen was littered with these sexual assault videos, each one more grotesque than the last. Some were men being stripped in public by women, where they would laugh at his flaccid penis in the open air; others were women pantsing each other in front of dates and crushes. One video showed one girl tricking another female friend into tying her hands around a tree in the front yard. When the trapped friend least expected it, she was stripped of her clothes and left naked in her front yard. It was daylight, and several cars drove by, witnessing the embarrassment.
      The young man sitting in front of the computer enjoyed each video, taking time to pleasure himself while watching the humiliation videos.
                                                                                                      ***
    The sun shines through the thick clouds in the fall air. The young man strolled through the open sidewalk, his headphones blaring music into his ears as he looked at the road ahead. 
    
I need to go to the store. I’m getting thirsty. He thought to himself, heading toward the door of a local grocery store. Upon entering the store, he headed toward the refrigerators by the self-check. He grabbed his favorite energy drink and a small package of sour gummy worms. Let me look around to see if there is anything else we need. He thought as he strolled through the store. Entering the frozen food section, he met eyes with a beautiful brunette. She was dressed in a short white skirt and a tight black shirt that cut off just above the belly button. She was not very tall, which made her thighs and breasts look perfectly proportioned to her body. He couldn’t look away, even though he knew that he should.
    Look at her. He thought to himself as he started intently. Her skirt would be so easy to pull up. I wonder if she’s wearing any underwear. I bet she’s not. He noticed that none was in the aisle with them. He glanced at the end of each side of the aisle, it was clear. I could do it right now. No one would see, but she would be so embarrassed. It would be funny.
    He stopped in his tracks, shocked at the thought that intruded into his mind. The young lady in the white skirt was stopped, facing a freezer of frozen pizzas, trying to decide which one to get. He was facing her. He was heading toward her before stopping to decipher the thought that interrupted his day.
    Shocked at himself, he turned around and sped toward the register. He quickly and quietly paid for his energy drink and sour gummy worms and left the store.
                                                                                                     ***
    He stared at the computer. This time, the room was illuminated by an overhead ceiling fan installed in the center of the room. He opened his web browser and opened his web history. He scrolled. In the last few months, he had indulged in pornographic material at least four times a week. Sometimes, he even viewed porn daily. On multiple occasions, he viewed porn and explicit social media posts multiple times a day.
    As he scrolled through his web history, his mind was flooded with memories of the material he indulged in. As he further studied the history displayed before him, he realized that the content he viewed often escalated in severity. What started with photo stills of nude women turned into videos of explicit sexual acts; then, it escalated into public flashing and humiliation videos and even open abuse.
    “What am I doing?” He asked himself about the web history still displayed before him. Without opening any of the previous websites that he had visited, he remembered all of them. He remembered the celebrities that had their nudes stolen and leaked; he remembered the Onlyfans websites that he subscribed to. He remembered the chats that he would have with the Onlyfans models, conversations where he sent inappropriate photos of himself, asking the models to mock and humiliate him.
    “What have you become? I could have hurt someone.” He asked himself, dropping his head onto his desk. He looked down at the carpet beneath him. “This is not who I want to be. This is not who I am.”
    With the web browser open and the search history still displayed, he cleared the history, leaving a black screen before him, a clean slate.

                                                                                                ***
The room was dark. A single-bulb lamp illuminated the computer desk. A young man sat before the computer, typing and scrolling through numerous pages. The computer screen was filled with a variety of websites and social media posts promoting the dangers of porn addictions and no-fap communities.
    “I didn’t realize any of this existed,” He mumbled to himself, reading further on fightthenewdrug.org, which is a sight that provides resources and articles that discuss and raise awareness of the harmful effects of porn. Reading on, Wesley realized that many of the articles used science to explain porn’s impact on the brain. This intrigued him since he wasn’t concerned with religious organizations that shamed adults and young adults for desiring sex.
    Wesley was currently reading an article entitled “How Porn Can Become an Escalating Behavior”(https://fightthenewdrug.org/how-porn-can-become-an-escalating-behavior/). He found it fascinating, especially since the eye-opening incident at the grocery store.
    I can’t believe it got this far.” Wesley said, his face buried in his palms. He felt his palms moisten from the tears in his eyes. He looked up from his palms, looking back at the website. He knew that he found something special. He knew that he had discovered a resource that would help him understand his compulsive and addictive behavior.
    “This looks like he will be a great resource for me,” Wesley whispered, looking at the Fight The New Drug Website. He scrolled through the articles and the videos, reviewing the content found. “I will look into this more.”
                                                                                               ***

    The sun shines through the thick clouds in the fall air. Wesley strolled through the open sidewalk, his headphones blaring music into his ears as he looked at the road ahead.
    Man, I'm getting thirsty. I need to stop at the store to grab something. Wesley thought to himself as he headed to the nearest grocery store. Once he entered the grocery store, he headed to toward the refrigerators by the self-check. He grabbed his favorite energy drink and a small package of sour gummy worms. It was out of habit that Wesley decided to roam the rest of the store, unsure what he was looking for, yet looking nonetheless.
    Strolling through the snack aisle, Wesley’s eyes roamed through the snacks. At the end of the aisle opposite Wesley was facing a beautiful blonde with bright blue eyes. She was tall, dressed in a yellow T-shirt and white shorts. Their eyes met as they passed each other. Once she was walking on, Wesley found himself slightly turning his eyes to stare at her butt as she walked down the aisle.
    This is not acceptable. You’ve got to look away. Wesley told himself as she turned his eyes back to the snacks laid before him. I know it is exhausting, keep your eyes off of her. Wesley told himself. He kept walking down the aisle to avoid the desired sight. With a quick turn, Wesley finds himself in another aisle, surrounded by three more attractive women who are wearing outfits that create a sexualized imagination in Wesley.
    Keep your eyes up, Wesley. You can not sexualize them.  It is not their responsibility to heal you. That’s your responsibility.  He pleaded with himself, quickly walking through the aisle.
    “I need to go,” Wesley whispered as he headed to the self-check register. As he paid for his items, he changed the music in his headphones, hoping to drown out the overly sexualized thoughts that entered his mind. He grabbed his bagged items, thanked the employee standing next to the self-check registers, headed out of the grocery store, and continued down the street.
    As he continued down the street, Wesley reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a small coin engraved with “Recovery happens one day at a time.” He looked down at it and returned it to his pocket.   

                                                                                 ***Note from the Author***

This story is an allegory of Porn addiction, yet it is not a true story. While i focused on the main character's realization of the escalation of porn on the human brain. The purpose of the story is summed up at the end; when the main character begins to realize that their perception of reality is being tainted by their porn consumption. I simply ask that, as the reader, you would have an open heart and open mind to the realities of this powerful addiction. 
If you, or someone you know is dealing with this particular addiction, please reach out and find help. As a friend of an addict, please be loving and compassionate as they heal and recover. Thank you.    ​

DISCLAIMER: The story you are about to read contains graphic violence and sexual situations. I pray that the reader would be able to look at the deeper meaning of the piece as it relates to Wrestling with Faith. Reader discretion is advised.

“Hey there, babe. Welcome to my Onlyfans page. My name is Valerie the Vixen, you will find the best content; everything from seductive nudes to cosplay of your favorite characters. I also love to play with myself and with my friends. Sometimes I even play with strangers. I promise you, baby, that this will be the best experience that you’ve had.”
    The room was dark, only illuminated by the computer screen. I sat in front of the computer, eyes glued to the images on the screen while I listened to the seductive voice through my headphones. Valerie was a voluptuous woman; her sandy brown hair hung delicately around her face; creating a cute frame. Valerie spoke to me, gently rubbing her full breasts, which rested in a green lace bra. As she squeezed the breasts, my attention was drawn to the sensual actions of this online goddess.
    I soon lost myself in her free content. I combed through her onlyfans.com content, and her other social media sites, collecting my favorite photos and videos; some of the content was fully nude, and others were only tantalizing enough to spark my interest. Her voice was often soft, yet passionate, and her body was warm and welcoming.
    After a long, hard day at work, I want to be at your service; How would you use me? Valerie the Vixen was pictured topless; her breasts firm and perky. She stood at the front door as if she were greeting her male visitor at the door. She was dressed in a pair of purple panties and black heels. I closed my eyes at the sight, envisioning that greeting in person. I imagined feeling her gentle fingertips caressing my chest and stomach. I could feel her fingernails gently impacting the skin beneath my shirt. I looked down and noticed that her nails were well-groomed and matched her purple panties. She always paid attention to the little details.
    “Come on, let’s get you undressed,” She whispered. Her light breath sent shivers down my spine as she led me into the house. I ran my hands up her arms and up to her exposed breasts. She liked a firm hand on her breasts. I could tell that she was becoming more excited. She knew I was as well.
​                                                                                          ***
    I opened my eyes, my webpage was resting on the same photo. I lifted my hand from beneath my pants and continued to scroll through the page, seeing more enticing pictures and videos. I stopped on a short video clip of Valerie wearing a comfortable summer dress. With a slow, gentle motion, Valerie lifted the dressing, clearly showing her panties. She grabbed the waist of her panties and began to lower the garment, revealing a cleanly shaven vagina.
    “Do you want a taste?” She asked, touching a fingertip to her vagina. I wanted to taste it. I wanted to taste it so badly, my mouth was watering. I could even imagine engaging in the sexual act myself.
    I wanted more. I wanted to experience everything that Valerie the Vixen had to offer. I want to feel her soft skin against my own as we embraced in bed or even on the couch; her soft lips lightly kissing my neck and chest.
    I decided to create a profile and subscribe to her onlyfans.com page. When I subscribed, a notification popped up at the side of the screen, under the messages tab.
    “Hey there, babe. Welcome to my Onlyfans page. My name is Valerie the Vixen, Here you will find the best content,” She began laying in bed in a green lace bra and panty set. “I want to hear from you, baby. Send me a message if you are looking for something special.” She added with a smile.
    Hey. I messaged her, scared and unsure if she would respond. I could feel my heart pounding beneath my chest, fear took my breath away. I had never done this before; my mind roamed through every possible scenario; could my information be stolen from the website? Will my attempt to chat with Valerie be screenshot and exposed to my loved ones? Will our chat be seen as cheating? Is this illegal?
    Bling. I heard the notification tone in my headphones; bringing me back to the reality of the chat with Valerie. The chat remained open on my computer screen. The bright red notification stuck out on the screen before me.
    Hey, baby. How are you? How did you find me? She responded. I looked at the words on the screen, actually scared to respond.
    Hey, I found your page through your social media. I nervously typed back, awaiting a response. A moment later, I could track the small bouncing bubbles that danced at the bottom of the screen when the other person was typing out their response.
    That’s great! Do you wanna have some fun? She typed.
    Yes, I responded, my heart bounding more than ever.
    Ooh, baby, What would you like to do? Her words sparked a part of my imagination that I never focused on before. I was intrigued and excited by the direction of the chat. Do you want to see me naked?
    Yeah. I responded, unaware of the answer I would receive. Before I knew it, a new box popped into the open chat. The box was blurred to distort the image and a paywall prevented me from accessing the exclusive material. It was priced at $15. At the bottom of the paywall, it indicated that the folder consisted of a minute-long video and a series of 10 photos.
    Let’s have some fun, baby. Please tip to open the folder. I want to show you what I want to do to you, baby.
    I didn’t know what to do. I focused my attention on the available link. Do I want to pay for the photos? Will this simple click of the mousepad be the catalyst for my fantasies?
    Are you naked in these photos, babe? I typed.
    Of course, I want to get you hard. Open it, babe.
 I clicked on the available link and approved the purchase. The blurred images were crystal clear; I had access to the full folder. Valerie posed in the photos; beginning in her bed, clothed in a powder blue lingerie set. As I clicked through the pictures, her position on the bed changed, and the number of clothes that she wore decreased until she was completely nude, seductively staring down the barrel of the camera, right into my eyes.
    At the end of the photo selection, I watched the video accompanying the pictures; she lay in bed and touched herself. She moaned. I watched the video clip multiple times. Each time I became more turned on and excited. Without realizing it, I was sitting naked in my chair, my pajama pants punched up at my feet.
    Do you like what you see, baby? She typed. Are you hard for me?
    I am so hard, baby. Do you wanna see it?  I asked, my excitement heightened.
    Yes, baby. Show it to me. She typed. I was taken aback. Yet, my excitement got the better of me. I took a photo and shared it with Valerie.
                                                                                          ***
    I woke in my bed to the sunlight peaking through the slits in my blinds, my energy diminished and weak my eyes were heavy. I felt exhausted. I reached for my phone, lying on my side table. I opened it instantly seeing Valerie’s Onlyfans page on my phone’s web browser. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I scrolled through the open chat. I saw the various photos that I shared as well as the various photo bundles that I purchased.
    Shame. It showered over me. Fear. It washed through my mind and coursed through my veins. It had been nearly a week since I subscribed to Valerie the Vixen’s page. Every night I found myself chatting with Valerie. We were sharing inappropriate pictures, and I was purchasing bundle after bundle. I was never satisfied, I wanted more every time.
    “I need to quit,” I told myself, looking at the purchase history over the last week; nearly $400 total. My eyes dropped in shame as I allowed my photo to slip through my fingers onto the floor.  I pressed my palms to my eyes, rubbing them intensively. “How can I quit this?”

                                                                     ***Note from the Author***

This story is an allegory of Porn addiction, yet it is not a true story. While i focused on the main character's brain receiving positive dopamine when consuming porn, the purpose of the story is summed up at the end; when the main character's beginning to feel the negative impact of the addiction over time. I simply ask that, as the reader, you would have an open heart and open mind to the realities of this powerful addiction. 
If you, or someone you know is dealing with this particular addiction, please reach out and find help. As a friend of an addict, please be loving and compassionate as they heal and recover. Thank you.    

The young man sat at the kitchen table, his hands folded before him. His eyes rested shut as he bowed his head toward the illuminated cell phone before him. Even though he seemed at peace, his mind raced.
    The room was dark. The only light came from a ceiling fan that hung above the table, illuminating the space beneath it. The man sat alone, but he wasn’t alone. In the depths of the darkness was a humble home, where his wife laid his young daughter to bed for the night.
    “Hey Keith,” A soft voice spoke as a young woman approached the kitchen table. “How are you doing?” She asked, approaching her husband from behind. With a light touch she glided a finger across his shoulders. She took seat at the table beside her husband.
    “ I can’t believe that this has happened.” He uttered with a soft voice. “This is the last thing that we need, especially at time like this.” He continued.
    “I know that this seems inopportune, but we will be alright,” She said attempting to reassure her husband. “This is a difficult time for everybody. With this virus spreading through the world, everybody is struggling.”
    “I know, I know. I just can’t believe that I no longer have a job.” He interjected firmly, looking up from the table to the eyes of his wife. His face was distorted with worry and his eyes were filled with sorrow.
    “Did Mr. Thompson say that the lay off was permanent? Is there a chance that you will be brought back once the spread is stopped?” She responded, trying to meet his eyesight with love and compassion, yet matching his level of concern.
    “Mia, I don’t know. I work in the food service field. Right now, the restaurant is closed and on lockdown. My job is expendable. I don’t see why Mr. Thompson would hire me back. The only thing that I can think about is you and Annabelle. I need to provide for my family.” He said firmly, trying to keep his frustration at bay.
    “And you still are. Yeah, you’re not working right now, but you are a restaurant manager, who knows everything there is to know about the restaurant. Mr. Thompson would be foolish to not offer you your job back once this all blows over. You are an amazing father and husband. Also, don’t forget that I am still working, My paycheck will cover our bills for a while. We will just have to stretch each dollar for a while.” She explained.
    “I know and I am not trying to devalue your career. I know that working as a Technician at the pharmacy is extremely important. I guess I’m just scared.” Keith admitted. “You know, nothing in life can prepare us for this world wide chaos….”
    “I terrified too. The truth is, I step into work everyday wondering if the pharmacy will be closed. When it’s not I am faced with the reality that anyone I could be carrying the virus and they may not know it.” Mia explained.  “But I can’t allow my fear to break me. Right now more than ever, I am needed.”
    “Yes, yes you are,” He added with a smile. “You’re right.”
    The two sat together at the illuminated kitchen table in silence. The silence grew into comfort. It was a type of comfort that allowed a bond to develop between the two parties. Keith looked into his wife’s eyes and she looked into his. In that moment they trusted one another and they knew they would survive this pandemic.
    Through the silence, Mia shifted out of her chair and headed into the darkness. When she emerged from the darkness, she carried a small folder in her hand. She reclaimed her seat next to her husband. The two of them looked at the item that she retrieved. First, the folder: She opened it up and pulled out the context of the folder. First thing that Keith saw was a set of photographs. The photographs were from four years ago, when Keith and Mia were baptized at their local church.
    “I think we need a reminder.” Mia said calmly, looking at the set of photos. She analyzed the two photos; one of her and one of Keith. Both of them were very happy and full of joy.  After a moment, she spoke again, “Do you remember this day?”
    Keith nodded as a smile spread over his face. “I do. That was what-three or four years ago?”
    Mia agreed, looking at the pictures again.
    “Man, that was a great time in our lives. Everything was going so well for us.” Keith continued, still allowing the sorrow to fill his heart. Mia could feel the heaviness on her husband’s heart.
    “Honey, I know things feel difficult now. But what is the difference between then and now? The difference is us. At this time in our lives, we were better connected with each other and we were better connected with God.”
    Keith scoffed in disbelief.
    Mia continued, “We have always had difficult times in our lives, and the truth is, we always will. Now, I believe that the reason we are struggling so much right now is not the pandemic, but the bond with God that we are lacking. We are not letting God provide for us. I think we need to let God provide for us again.”
    With his head bowed down, Keith spoke, “I remember the church and I remember the baptism. It was a great day and we were happy. I don’t remember God. I remember the difficult times that we’ve faced, but I don’t remember God. I do remember us. I remember us working hard to pull ourselves out of those dumps. I remember the birth of Annabelle and the complete joy that we felt at that time. But I don’t remember God.” His words were sharp, yet gentle. He was speaking from his heart.He felt lost.
                                                                                                ***
Keith continuously found himself at that table, silently sitting in the dark. Every night he returned to the kitchen table after a long day of job searching and remaining in the home, spending time with his daughter. He sat in silence, allowing his wife and daughter to sleep as he protected them.
    On occasion, Keith would peak at his cell phone often awaiting for a text or a message. He desperately awaited the message that work would resume soon. He needed to get back to work. His desire to return to work grew stronger with the rising of a new sunrise. Yet nothing changed.
    God, where are you?
    Keith remained at the table, hoping that the world’s situation would improve, although the words of the news-stations reminded Keith that the pandemic wold get worse before it gets better. There was no hope.   
    How are we going to come out of this?
    No response……..
                                                                                             ***
    The next night, Keith finds himself perched at the kitchen table illuminated at the rotating ceiling fan. For a brief moment, Keith scrolled through his phone as it lay flat on the tabletop before him. He was searching for the text message from Mr. Thompson.
    Nothing.
    Keith combed his fingers through his hair in distress. Sitting at the opposing side of the table was the folder that Mia once showed to him, the same folder that contained the pair of baptism photos. Keith realized that Mia had been leaving the folder out for Keith before she cozied up into bed.
    Keith’s curiosity spiked as he looked puzzled at the folder. Keith reached for the folder and drew it closer to him. Keith placed the folder between his forearms, looking down at it. He paused before he opened the folder before him. He retrieved the contents and laid it before him, atop the pile was the pair of baptism photos.
    Keith found himself rummaging through the pile until he found an envelope that was addressed to him. He studied the envelope, realizing that it was a letter that he wrote to himself. Keith peeled the envelope open and gather the letter, where he opened the letter and spread it out on top of the pile of papers. He read the letter to himself.


The letter read:


Keith,
    It has been years since you’ve done this; write a letter to yourself. This is something that you began doing as a boy, it was always your way of reminding yourself of what you’ve been through. This was your way of dealing with the world around you. This is the best way of getting ahold of you.
    I can only imagine what you are going through. I know that you feel alone and I know that you feel lost. You always wanted security in your life and because of that, you have always chased the most secure aspects of life that you could think of; you’ve chased a successful job and a loving wife and children that you can teach.
    You met Mia and you instantly loved her and you have learned to trust her throughout the years. But I know that when things get difficult, you want your space. You build a wall around your heart and you refuse to let people; especially those who truly love you. You don’t want them to get hurt. You don’t want to get hurt. I have to say that Mia is different. She is trustworthy, She has always stood by your side. Unlike many of the other women that you loved, she has proven that she will not leave when times get difficult.
    It is because of her faith in God that she is able to stand by your side and remain strong. As we all know, life get difficult and we need our family and friends to support us in our lowest point. She does that.
    At the time that I am writing this, We just realized that Mia is pregnant. We were thinking of naming her Annabelle. Also, I was just baptized with Mia. I actually got the privilege to assist in her baptism. We couldn’t be happier! Honestly, when Mia and I first began going to church I was very skeptical. I never fully believed in God and I never fully surrendered to God, but seeing Mia’s faith, and the true actions of the church, God has opened my heart to His word.
    We started going to this church two and a half years ago and I have seen God provide for us as we looked for jobs and fought homelessness. It was then that the church and church members gathered around us and helped us pay our bills until we both found employment. Mia studied and became a technician, which was her first step toward her goal of becoming a pharmacist.
    Not long after, I began a job at a nearby restaurant. We were provided for. God placed people in our lives that were loving and compassionate and they were willing to sacrifice their finances in order to strengthen us in our times of weakness.
    I don’t know what you’re going through, but I know how you act in difficult times; often times you become an introvert who forgets the love and compassion for people around you. You will remember the hard work that it took for you to become successful and you ignore the truth that people are good and God is even better.
    Please, in this difficult time do not forget God and His provision. God has blessed you with a woman of faith who trusts God with all of her heart. Please remember God providing finances and resources through the compassion of complete strangers. Please place you faith in God once again because He loves you.
                                                                                          ***
    Keith sat in the same spot at the kitchen table the next morning. Sitting beside him was his daughter, Annabelle. The young child poured spoonfuls of cereal in her mouth and smiled at her father. Keith was overjoyed at the sight. He smiled back.
    Without a word, Keith lifted himself up from the table and heading for the third bedroom that was used as a home office. Keith retrieved the same folder that he had read from the night before. He grabbed the envelope from the folder and set it aside. Keith also laid a blank piece of lined paper in front of him. He wrote:


Keith,
    Whatever is going on, do not fear but choose to have faith in God’s working hand. He will always provide for you and your family: Annabelle’s life is proof of God’s grace and love. Trust in Him with all things.


Letter from writer:


Dear reader,


I know that these times are uncertain and truly scary for so many of us. I feel for everyone who has lost their job or who is uncertain of the their status of their employment. I wrote this story not to make light your situation. I wrote this story to do my best to understand the fear that so many fear. I pray that you are safe. I pray that your jobs are reinstated once all of this clears up. I know that everything is truly up in the air when it comes to when life will pop back to normal, but I truly believe that each of you are valuable to your family and loved ones and because of that I pray that your spirits stay encouraged. That is my ultimate goal. I want you to know that you are not alone, there is a community around you that loves you wants the best for you.
We at Beautiful Feet Entertainment love you and we will be praying for you through this difficult time.


I truly believe that God will provide for you in this turmoil that we are facing in this uncertain time. I pray that your heart will be open to His purpose and plan for your life. I Pray that you place your trust in the God that created you and knows your  needs at this time. God will provide. I pray that you find your joy in Jesus and your strength in the Holy Spirit and through it all, stay encouraged. ​

The hallway was narrow and aligned with small mailboxes along the walls. Each mailbox was fixed with a locking mechanism that locked and prevented access to the mail within. I neared the end of the hallway, in search of my mailbox. When I located the proper compartment, I peered into the tiny Plexiglas window at the face of the mailbox.

“Hmm, I’ve got a letter.” I said to myself under my breath. Kneeling before my mailbox, I turned the dial, entering the proper combination to unlock the mailbox. With the rectangular envelope within my hand, I read the return address on the left top corner of the envelope. “It’s from my sister. I’ve been waiting for this letter.”
I pocketed the letter and headed out of the campus post office, which was nestled beneath the campus bookstore. The weather was cool and breezy. The leaves were changing to reds, oranges, and yellows, creating a blanket of color across the courtyard.

I instantly headed to my dorm room across campus. I found my way up to my room. A small living area filled with two desks, a couch, and a TV that stood on a top of a dresser. Entering the front door of the dorm room, I sat at my desk and peeled the envelope from my pocket. The envelope was decorated with a pencil stencil of a creative cross spread across the front. In the center of the hand-drawn cross was a small heart. As my eye analyzed the off-centered cross, I noticed the letter “I” above the small heart and the letter “U” underneath the heart, spelling the phrase, “I love you.”

I shredded the envelope open, pulling the letter from the disregarded pieces. I unfolded the pages, and I began skimming through the contents of the letter. My sister and I have been sending letters back and forth ever since she was incarcerated. I couldn’t wait to read the contents of this letter.
I could never understand what she was going through, yet, I felt I could offer her some light in these dark times.

So, I began to write her every two to three months, sharing the Gospel and the hope that lies within it and in return she would send me a letter expressing gratitude for my kind words and sharing life with me. With every letter that I sent her I spoke about life and life in Christ. I shared scripture that would offer her hope. I just wanted to see my sister understand the hope that I have learned to love over the years.

“First I’d like to tell you that your letter brought me so much joy. I hadn’t gotten mail in about 2 and half weeks and to get a letter from you made me feel so loved. Your letter brought tears to my lovely blue eyes that had been gray for days. When I’m down my eyes turn gray and since I got your letters the girls say my eyes are so bright.”
I read my sister’s words in my head, yet I mouthed the words quietly. I couldn’t believe how much joy I received from this letter. I am very thankful that I was able to share these words with her.

“Tony, this jail time has opened my eyes and my heart to a new way of life and I am looking forward to it. Tony, I carry your letter with my Bible and I have read it at least a dozen times since I got it yesterday.”
At the bottom of the second page, I noticed a scripture hand-printed:
John 15:13-15

“There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you slaves. Now you are my friends, since I have told you everything the Father told me.”

I read and reread the letter until a sense of peace was nestled within my heart. I lay down the letter upon my desk, and leaned back in my chair, thinking. Within minutes, my mind was roaming with new thoughts to share. I quickly grabbed my Bible and a new sheet of paper and prepared to write.

As I wrote every letter, I thought of her sitting in a lonely cell, gripping the letter that I sent to her. I imagined that every word that she read filled her with a reminder of love and grace, giving her something to look forward to.

As I crafted my newest letter, I continued to refer to the letter that I had just received. I read it and reread it, ensuring my understanding of what she was saying and the meaning behind it. I always looked at the verses that she sent me, knowing that she was finding light in them.

“My purpose behind sending you the verses, was basically because I want you to see I’m not just saying that I’m reading God’s word but that I really am!” my sister wrote in her next letter to me , which arrived a few weeks later.
Her letter consisted of two other verses; Philippians 4:6-7 and Colossians 1:9
Philippians 4:6-7:

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need and thank Him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”
Colossians 1:9:

“So, we have not stopped praying for you since we first heard about you. We ask God to give you complete knowledge of His will and to give you spiritual wisdom and understanding.”

My sister’s second letter was much shorter than the first, yet it was still touching. My sister’s words were heartfelt and personal. I knew that she was still in the darkness, yet I believe she is finding peace in those times.
After reading her letter, I pulled out a pile of paper and a pen. I began writing. The words poured from my mind and formed sentences that lifted up hope in Christ. The words were filled with life, looking to give hope to a person who was downtrodden and broken hearted. Yet, I soon realized that my sister was not the only one who would grow from this experience. I would…….

“God, thank you for this opportunity to speak hope to my sister; I pray that You would be with her during this difficult time. I ask that you strengthen her daily, giving her the strength she needs to face this time. I pray that the words that You give me would encourage her and bring her closer to you. I pray all of this in Your name, Amen.” I spoke aloud, leaning forward in my desk chair with my hands folded together.

I finished the letter with a kind word of love and plopped the pen atop of the desk. I folded the pages of the letter into a tri-fold and prepped it for the mail. I pocketed the newly written letter and headed back down to the campus post office.

I can’t believe I get the opportunity to share the gospel with my sister. I can’t believe I get the opportunity to share the gospel with anybody. This feels really good and I know that I am making a difference. I thought to myself as I walked through the campus pathways towards the campus post office. I fought through the muffled existence of self-doubt. In times like these, I am often plagued with a variety of questions: Am I sure I should be so upfront about my faith? Is my sister appreciative or grateful for my message of hope? Do I truly believe in everything that I am telling her? How does sharing the Gospel truly change her life?

With the letter stuffed into my pants pocket, I thought through the series of questions. The truth was: I don’t know all of the answers. All I knew was that God has changed me; God has seen the brokenness that harasses my family, yet He has made me whole. God knows my heart, yet He loves me relentlessly, allowing me to love myself. God has taken a child who was bit with silence, and yet God has given him the privilege to speak.

I decided one thing: If my sister does not accept Christ before she is released, I can at least hold my head high knowing that I fought through my self-doubt and followed God’s will. I also decided that I would not be ashamed of the gospel of Christ in my life. I will continue to share the gospel in any way that I can, regardless of who appreciates it or understands my reasoning.

I released the envelope from my pocket and looked down at it. My heart thumped in my chest, my nerves spiked. I wasn’t being fueled with fear or anxiety; I was collecting my valor and decided to walk a path of strength and courage.

I handed my envelope to the post office employee as he ensured that the envelope was stamped with the correct information and pointed to the mail slot that it would be dispensed into. I slid the envelope into the mail slot, never to be seen again.

My job was finished, the rest relied on God.

DISCLAIMER: The story you are about to read contains graphic violence and sexual situations. I pray that the reader would be able to look at the deeper meaning of the piece as it relates to Beautiful Feet Entertainment. Reader discretion is advised.

The room was dark. The room was very simply decorated; nothing more than a medical bed, a dresser and a wooden rocking chair, sitting next to the bed. Sitting atop of the dresser was an assortment of family pictures of members that are hardly seen in person.
 
In the medical bed lay an elderly man. His hair is peppered grey and black and curled in an organized tousled look. Framing the elderly man’s face was a peppered beard, which lay on his natural wrinkles, giving the impression of a man who has seen a lot in his long life.
 
The elderly man ached from internal pain in the gut as he dealt with a terminal cancer as it slowly eats through his system; this disease will surely be his demise.
 
The bedroom door opened slowly as the face of a familiar face poked through the crack in the doorway.  The man in the doorway was a clean shaven man of thirty-five. He wore a freshly-pressed button up shirt, which was a light purple, draping over a clean pair of jeans.  The gentleman held a thickly bound Bible in his hand as he approached the bed.
 
“Hello, Mr. Ray,” The young man said with a smile. “How are you feeling?” He slowly sat in the wooden rocking chair beside the bed. He politely laid the Bible upon his lap although he refused to open it.
 
“Hello, Pastor Williamson,” The elderly Charley Ray forced out with a hoarse voice. He attempted to lift his head from his pillow and veer his attention toward Pastor Scott Williamson. He smiled at the sight of the friendly thirty-five year old beside him. “It’s good to see you.” He said with a cough.
 
“It’s good to be here.” Pastor Scott smiled. “How are you feeling, Charley?” He asked, reaching a hand out and gently laying his hand upon the elderly man’s hand.  The elderly man lay back in his bed, attempting to relax.
 
“So, you wanted to me to come by? Your caretaker called me and said you had something to tell me.” The pastor said with genuine smile.
 
Charley nodded his head in agreement.
 
“I did it.” The old man spoke weakly.
 
The pastor’s face twisted with confusion. He looked deep into the elderly man’s eyes, hoping to sense the truth.
 
“I did it.” The man repeated.
 
“What are you talking about?” Pastor Williamson asked. Uncertainty distorted his face as the elderly man attempted to explain through bursts of coughing and shortness of breath.
 
“I did it. I killed them.” Charley coughed.
 
Pastor Williamson’s expression quickly changed, realizing that his patient may be telling the truth. “What do you mean, ‘you killed them’?”  Scott kept his handhold with Charley for reassurance.
 
“It was….a long time…..ago.” Charley spoke, trying to steady his breathing. “……..never caught, never…..arrested.”
 
“Are you sure?” The pastor’s face was distorted with confusion as he looked on at his elderly friend of three years.
 
“I……had to…….confess.” He coughed. “I did it to them all.”
 
The look of his guest transformed into hysterics at the validity of the news. His mind began to race through a series of thoughts that spanned from fear for his own life to how and when he should call the police.  Through process of elimination, Pastor Williamson realized that his life was in no potential danger; therefore he stayed in the room, furthering the conversation.
 
The conversation continued as Scott remained friendly and polite. He listened to the story of Charley’s past; his wrecked childhood, his broken relationships with his wives and kids and the events that led to his killing spread over twenty years ago. Charley shared the details of the victims; how he found them, how he executed the killings and how he haunted the families of the victims for years after that.
 
Throughout the confession of the victims Charley’s peppered face became wet with tears and regret. As he recalled the pain that he caused to those families tore his heart and tortured his spirit; he had to talk.
***
Charley Ray confessed to raping and killing five women within the span of a year. He was never caught; he was never even a suspect in the murders. Often his targets would be young women in between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-two. The victims were usually young wives and mothers, leaving behind their loving husbands and children.
 
According to reports Charley would often stalk his victims for some time before he would attack them. The incidents before the attacks were usually a series of phone calls to the target’s home where heavy breathing would often be on the other end. On other occasions, Charley would enter the home while it was left vacant, where small objects in the home would either be moved or taken. Charley would often leave behind a mask and rope hidden within or around the home for his inevitable return.
 
On the night of his return, Charley would sneak into the house in the dead of the night, where he would secure the victim to the bed with the rope. To the surprise of the young woman, a masked Charley would be found leering over the victim. With a calm voice and slowly methodical movements, he would tease his prey. When the tensions were at their highest, Charley would finally attack. First, he would disrobe the victim and proceed to sexually assault the victim, holding a hand over the women’s mouth to keep the silence. Then, as the victim’s movements become more frantic and worried, he would wrap his hands around the victim’s neck, holding tightly, progressing in to a tighter squeeze. As a result of his excitement and the victim’s fear intensifying, Charley’s grip around the sufferer’s mouth and throat would tighten, resulting in the death of the young woman.
 
At the sight of the young woman’s body lying lifeless on the bed, Charley loosened his grip and returned to standing position beside the bed, leering down at his work. Charley carefully untied the victim, leaving rope burns around the wrists from the victim’s struggle. With the seen cleaned up and evidence collected, Charley vanished into the night, leaving the body of the victim to be discovered.
***
“A statement from Charley Ray:” A man in a well tailored suit began, holding a printed document in his hand. Standing before the courtroom, the attorney read the document aloud.  “My name is Charley Ray. I am fifty-three years old. I am dying from cancer. Before I die, there is something that I need to address. Twenty years ago I began breaking and entering into homes, where I would sexually assault and kill the female owner of the house. In the timeframe of a year, I killed five women.
 
“At the time of the murders I never thought about the families that I destroyed. I never considered the young children that I left motherless. I never thought of the husbands that I left wifeless. Not once did concern the mothers and father who are now without their daughters.
 
 I am so sorry for what I’ve done. I don’t expect you to forgive me; I don’t expect you to show me any kind of sympathy. I only needed you to know what happened. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done; how I left your lives, the things that I put you through; I wish I could take it all back.
 
While the defendant read through the elderly man’s confession, tears began forming behind Charley’s eyes, leaving him to wipe the tears from his eyes. Charley remembered every woman that he killed. He remembered every detail of those nights; to the stalking, to the set up, to the actual night of the attack.
 
Continuing to read the confession, the defendant said:
 
“I completely expect to die in prison. I do not expect to be spared from the death penalty. I am prepared for face any sentence that I receive. Yet, before I face my fate, I wanted to look the victim’s families in the eye and let them know my regret for my wicked past. I pray that as I face my fate that you all find peace and that you can move on. Once again, I’m sorry; signed, Charley Ray. ”
 
At the testimony of Pastor Scott Williamson and the confession from Charley Ray, himself, Charley was found guilty of the five murders. Due to his ailments, Charley would rest in his medical wheelchair for the sentencing.
 
At the news of the capture of their mother’s killer, three of the victim’s adult children came to the hearing. The family member’s were seated at the front of the courtroom and looked into the eyes of the man who took their mother away from them.
 
They were able to analyze his fragile frame, questioning how such a sickly-faced, frail man could commit such brutalities. Their minds were able to roam though the many nights of their childhood, trying to imagine the monster that killed mommy. They were now looking into the eyes of the man that haunted their nightmares for years.
 
“Now, before we go into sentencing I have agreed to give the floor to the families of the victims, allowing them to share their thoughts with Mr. Charley Ray.” Judge Marshall Stephens spoke from his benched podium at the front of the courtroom.  His round glasses rested on the bridge of his nose as he looked down at the three attendants before him, awaiting their response.
 
“Uh, yeah,” A young man said to himself, gently raising his hand in the air. The young man’s shabby hair draped low above his eyes. His was dressed in the Sunday’s finest, which consisted of an old black suit and tie. The clothes hung loosely off of his body, indicating that he had lost weight since it was originally purchased. “I’d like to say something.” He directed to the judge, who nodded in agreement.
 
The shabby haired kid with the bags under his eyes stood before the courtroom. He surveyed the courtroom, which look eerily similar to the courtrooms that any viewer would see on any crime drama TV show. The attorneys and the spectators waited with curiosity aimed at him.
 
“Uh, yeah, my name is Eric, my mother was Erin Montgomery; do you remember her?” Eric asked, now aiming his dialog at Charley, who looked in from his wheelchair with a look of remembrance. “You killed her the night before my birthday. You left her breathless on the bed, where I found her the next morning. Do you remember that, you sick schmuck? I’m glad that you are confined to that chair. Whatever is eating away at your insides is a godsend! You deserve so much more torture for what you have to done to all of us!” at this point Eric’s tone was irate and angry.
 
Eric’s eyes were filling with tears of anger. His face was red as he spoke with a heavy intensity. As he spoke, he pointed an index finger toward the wheelchair bound killer. It took everything within him to not physically attack the man that he despised.  
 
“Mr. Montgomery we are going to ask you to try to remain calm while you are in my courtroom.” Judge Stephens ordered with a calm yet firm voice.
 
Unable to contain himself, Eric balled up a fist and pounded it on the tabletop in front of him. “I can’t not remain calm I am here to ensure that he gets what he truly deserves!” Eric hollered, pointing an unstable finger to Ray.
 
With a wave of the hand, Judge Stephens ordered the bailiff to escort Eric Montgomery back to his seat to ensure peace in the courtroom.
 
“Now, I’m Montgomery I understand that tensions are high and that could elicit radical behavior but if your outburst continues than I will have no choice but to banish you from my courtroom.”
 
A silence fell among the courtroom. Charley Ray remained in his wheelchair refrain from all emotion. He just sat slouched in the chair, eyes surveying the courtroom.  With a moment of silence Judge Stephens awaited the response from another progeny of the victims to stand up and address the courtroom.
 
The room remained silent.
 
The two remaining survivors of the victims were both females in their early thirties. They were nicely dressed, although they were not dressing for the approval of those in the courtroom. One of the young women had dark hair that was pulled back into an elegant ponytail, which swayed behind her with every move.  Her name: Abigail Davies, her mother was, Maureen Davies, Charley Ray’s fourth victim.  As Abigail waited in the nearly awkward silence, she looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap. Simply from observation, it was evident that she wished to speak to the killer of her mother, yet she was unnerved and unable to summon the courage. Although, from the expression on her face it was easy to see that she held resentment and anger deep in the pit of her stomach for the man who destroyed her family.
 
Every few moments, the dark haired girl looked over at Charley Ray and glared with eyes of angry frustration over the twenty years it took to catch the killer. Abigail was eleven when her mother became a victim of Mr. Ray. Her father, who often traveled for work, happened to be in an entirely different state when his wife was killed. He blamed himself for the murder, which caused him to develop a heavy drinking habit. Due to the drinking, Abigail often raised herself.
 
Abigail’s anger toward Charley’s crimes propelled her to work toward becoming a defense attorney. She never wanted anyone else to have to go through what she went through as a child.
 
The third and final witness looked around the room, often looking over to Charley. Her smooth, blonde hair hung around shoulder length. She could sense the tension between Abigail and Charley thickening.  Eric sat next to Abigail, his fists balled up in anger at the sight of Charley sitting in the same room as them. Next to Eric was the bailiff, ensuring that there would be no further outburst from any one.  Neither Eric nor Abigail seemed to be moved by Charley’s confession letter and the tears that left his cheeks soaked. All they saw was a killer, nothing more.
 
“Well, since no one else has anything to say…..” Judge Stephens began to speak as he looked down at the manila file folder that lay in front of him.
 
“Judge, can I say something?” The shoulder-length blonde said, holding a semi-pointed finger to the sky, just parallel to her head. Her face was white with fear as she made eye contact with Judge Stephens.
 
“Of course you can,” The judge smiled gently. With an open hand, he welcomed her to stand before the courtroom.  With a deep breath, she approached the podium. In her hand was a folded piece of paper; a prepared statement for this kind of occasion.
 
She unfolded the paper, starred down at it and decisively folded it back up and placed it back in her pocket.  She surveyed the room before she made eye contact with Charley, who remained in his wheelchair looking on.
 
“My name is Danielle Snow. My mother was your first victim. I was ten years old when you commit this serious crime. To be honest, I saw you walking through the hallway, approaching her room. You didn’t realize I was there. At first I thought you were just part of my imagination. I tried to convince myself that you were just a shadow that I saw.
 
“I am of the same mind as Eric and Abigail. I came here to face my fears, to face the man who stole my childhood. I wanted to ensure that you were given the death penalty.  I wanted you to pay. That’s what I came here to say to you. Yet, as I’ve been sitting her hearing everyone’s stories and seeing you here. I must say: I feel sorry for you.”
 
With those words, Charley Ray lifted his eyes to meet Danielle’s. He previously had his eyes pointed toward the floor in shame and embarrassment. With every furthering moment he wished for his sentencing. Yet, he remained shocked at these words.  
 
“I don’t condone what you’ve done, in fact, I despise it. I wish it never happened, but that is something that I can’t change now. All I can do is use this moment to become better, to be a better person. Truth is; I heard your words. I heard the remorse in them. It seems that you truly are sorry. Seeing you now, I see that you’ve grown and you stopped killing. I can see that the truth of your crime has being eating away at you for the past twenty years; it is literally killing you.”
 
Danielle searched through her mind to perfectly encapsulate the feelings that were swirling within her heart. Looking over to Charley, Danielle’s feelings became complicated. On one hand, Danielle wishes to ensure her mother’s killer gets exactly what he deserves, and on the other hand, she sees Charley as a human who makes mistakes, who makes the wrong choices, who needs something more powerful than hate.  
 
“Although this is hard for me, I see that this is also hard for you. I want to thank you for finally coming clean with your crime and finally facing responsibility for your actions. Lastly, I want to say: I forgive you. I will no longer hold in the hate that I felt for so long. I will no longer wish upon you and I will no longer see you in my dreams. I forgive you.  I hope you find peace with yourself and with God. I forgive you.”
 
Danielle finished her speech to Charley Ray with tears in her eyes. She looked Charley in the eye, as she wiped her face clean. She felt peace settle in her heart. Without another word she sat back down next to Abigail and Eric, both of which seethed with anger at the words that she just spoke, yet she was not bothered by their evil-eye looks.
 
Charley remained in his chair, his eyes wet with tears. How could anybody forgive him for what he has done? How could she show him compassion with all that he has done to her? He was overwhelmed at the gesture of forgiveness.
 
Wiping his eyes, Charley turned to look at Danielle. Making eyes contact with her, he mouthed the words “Thank you.” Charley Ray knew his mistakes. He knew he had destroyed lives. He deserved the punishment that he would be sentenced, yet he was offered forgiveness. In the end, that’s all he wanted.