Kit assumed prayer position, getting down on his knees and putting his hands together, his fingers intertwined so tightly, his fingernails dug into his skin. He had poured his soul earlier into a confession for only Sister Jude's ears. How ironic that before, those very same ears would let his words come in one ear and flow through the other. "Dear God," A tear rolled down his cheek. He muttered the words quietly, hoping none of the other inmates could hear him. He wasn't quite sure what to say, him never quite being a religious man, so he went from the heart. "I'm…scared. I don't know what to do. I'm looking for you but I can't quite find you. What should I do?" He began to get up and go back to bed, calling himself stupid for even thinking some almighty being in the sky was listening to him. But something beckoned him to keep going, and so he did.
"I did something bad," He hesitated on admitting what he had done. He hadn't felt bad for it until now since he never believed he did it. Still, Dr. Thredson kept pressuring him into the idea that he murdered and skinned three women including his beloved wife so it must be true, right? "I love Alma, you know that. I love her with all my heart, but I'm scared that I've done something terrible, and I can't do anything to fix it," His voice cracked. Kit couldn't speak anymore so he continued his prayer in his head. The good doc says I've killed these ladies, I don't remember doing it, but he says I did it, he thought. He told me that I beat my wife because I was so angry at her and myself. Kit shook at the idea of being violent with his wife. He says that I'm not evil, it's just society that broke me. They kept convincing us that marrying someone of a different race is wrong so I took it out on her because she was ashamed of us.
This story felt very wrong to Kit, he would never do anything like that, but more and more he began to question his sanity. "Where are you, God?" He croaked. Kit had found the strength to speak again. "Why won't you HELP ME?" He screamed. The other inmates began to roar in anger, spitting curses at him. He couldn't take it. This wasn't his element. He didn't belong here, or did he? Kit got in his bed and pulled the covers up, slamming his pillow on top of his head. He tried to fall asleep, but instead started to daydream of Alma. She was wearing a pretty pink dress and had her only pair of heels on. Her hair was especially nice that day and she donned a pair of sunglasses with white trim – this was the very first day he spotted her. From the minute he saw her, he knew it was love at first sight. Her skin colour didn't matter to him - all he saw was a beautiful woman that was fit to be his bride. These happy moments with Alma kept him sane, even though he started to develop feelings for Grace. "If you control everything, God…why do you allow racism? Why did you allow for my Alma to be ashamed of who she is? Who we were? I kept telling her she was beautiful but she didn't believe me because she was raised not to believe me…why did you do that? And why can't we get another chance at living forever? I mean, we've come awful far from Adam and Eve. Why are you punishing me for something I can't help? I mean, I couldn't have killed my Alma…I couldn't have killed my Alma…I couldn't…" Kit finally fell asleep, his face streaked with tears.