It was only by the grace of God that I was allowed to live. That is what my mother and father always told me. And yet as I lie here on my back with a man above me and a gun pointed at my head, I wonder where God is now. Has He forsaken me? Or was there never such a being to begin with? Why would I be given miraculous life if it were to end so early, so painfully, so suddenly?

According to my father, my now disappeared mother gave birth to me almost two months early. I was severely underweight, and had multiple heart and lung complications. Simply put, I was going to die before I even had a chance to live. And then, a so called miracle occurred. My emotionally distraught mother claimed to have met with God, and begged him to allow me to live, even at the cost of her own life. I don't know if she really met God or not, but fact of the matter is I'm here now. Who or whatever it was that granted her wish seemed to spare her, as she continued to live on, raising me with my father. I was named Megumi, meaning "blessing".

She was a kind woman who raised me with much love. At first, at least. As the years went by she became more and more distant. I can remember fights often breaking out between her and my father over her absence. She was depressed and temperamental, swinging violently from mood to mood, lashing out at whoever happened to be closest. But that was only the beginning.

I believe I was around 8 when my mother began slip away from reality, that is to say, 6 years ago. She claimed to have spoken with God many times. This was not so unusual, as she was a devout Christian. It was natural for her to believe in such things. But it was not so simple. Her words slowly began to change from praise to bitter, spiteful remarks. She called Him a liar, a murderer, a thief, a false idol. Being as young as I was, I did not understand how my mother, once a devoted believer, had fallen into a Nietzsche-esque pattern of verbal heresy. But approximately one year ago, when I was 13 years old, I understood. It was merely one brief moment, but at that moment understanding washed over me, and that understanding quickly morphed into terror as the revelation settled in.

It was the last time I ever saw my mother.

I remember it so vividly that I could almost relive it just by recalling it. Of course, it was only a year ago, but it still remained etched so deeply into my mind that I truly believed I would see it when I die. I was coming home from school one day, and as I walked through the front doorway I noticed an eerie stillness to the house. This stillness was almost immediately broken by an unholy shrieking. I ran to the source of the sound and found my mother, shaking, pointing a gun at a strange furry creature. She resumed screaming countless profanities in an almost incomprehensible stream. But there was a few words that I could make out: liar, murderer, thief. My mother was screaming at what she believed to be God.

It was then I realized; this was what my mother saw lying in the hospital bed, with my crippled form cradled in her arms. It was then I realized, that my mother had not been spared. She had been cursed far, far beyond mere death.

That, however, was all I knew. I did not know the context of anything that I witnessed that day. I did not know what that creature really was, or what it had really done to my mother.

My mother fired a shot at the mysterious entity. It missed. And then, she collapsed. That is all I can remember, as after that I was knocked out by a bizarre explosion. My house was entirely destroyed, and I was left in critical condition, buried under the rubble, when my father returned to find me.

But I lived. It was as if the events of my day of birth were repeated. Brutally and ruthlessly twisted, but the parallel was clear as day to me. My mother encountered God, and a miracle occurred. But no sane human would called what happened this time a miracle. It was a disaster. I'd rather have died then and there.

The events of that day and the years preceding it were shoved into the deepest pits of my mind by my subconscious. My father as well. It is only, as I believed, upon my concrete death bed that I recall them. As I attempt to empty my mind in preparation of being stripped of my innocence and my life, the memories come flooding in. It was a brief recollection, however, as I hesitantly shift my view to my side, and see a white, animal like creature. Realization once again hit me like the bullet about to be emptied into my skull; this was Him. This was the God that my mother had contracted with, the God that had allowed me to live until this day.

I heard it in my head:

"Would you like to make a contract with me?"

The memories of my mother were drained from my mind, along with my common sense, by my instinctual drive to survive. Had I been in my right mind, I would have accepted my fate and ignored the offer. But I was not so lucky.

"If you do, I'll grant you one wish."

And so, the words flew through my mind, and managed to break their way through my frozen lips.

"I wish…to escape from this fate...to live."

I have no idea where I'm going with this, or if I'll even go anywhere at all with it. I just wanted to write something, okay?