Part Four: Faith

Floating in the middle of the sea on a broken back with nothing but a life jacket and a small box of belongings was perhaps the worst experience in my entire life. I hadn't seen a single person, boat or other signs of land for hours, I knew that I was headed in the wrong direction.

Suffering, fear, and desperation can make ordinary people do extraordinary things and in my case, turn doubt into belief in minutes. At that point everything that had been my life was gone. I had no home, no family and nowhere to go. As the sky went from light blue to grey as the day turned into early evening, I began to do the one thing I swore I would never do.

"You win. It's over, you won. I have nothing left, everything is gone. There's nothing more to give, nothing more to take. All that is left is the shallow and empty shell that you see before you."

The waves rocked and crashed against my broken frame, like a pile of driftwood I let myself go with the current. Accepting what fate would bring, I closed my eyes and continued, fully prepared for this to be my final moments on Earth.

"I give myself wholly and freely, that I might find humility and save what little soul I have left. Whatever challenge you give will go unopposed, without hostility or malicious and will be taken in full stride."

A rouge wave crashed into me, causing me to go under for a few seconds and shallow sea water. It was salty, bitter.

"Let me die now" I continued, now to the point of begging, "If you truly are what you say. If you are God, then let me die. Don't make me suffer anymore, don't make me fight a losing battle in a war that was lost the minute I came into the world."

It was then that it happened. At the time I wasn't sure what was happening, if it was a vision or I was just going crazy from hysteria. Whatever it was, it came in the form of my father, hovering above my useless body as it swayed side to side and up and down, moving with the choppy waves of the sea.

"You look tired kid" Dad exclaimed nonchalantly, "What's eating yah?"

I was surprised to hear his voice, it wasn't anything like I thought it would be, for despite a shaggier appearance he was the splitting image of me, just older. He sounded like a Southern Gentlemen, a quieter and more intelligent version of Mel Blanc's Foghorn Leghorn, whether or not this had anything to do with anything I'm not sure, but the drawl was distinct, distinct enough to catch me off guard for a few seconds.

"Help me" I replied, my voice hoarse from overuse, "Help me."

Dad only smiled, he didn't say anything. Sitting on his haunches Dad raised his right forepaw and made a small heart in the air. Why he did this I can't say, for I never asked and he never explained. I did however, feel an immediate sense of comfort, what fear there was had left me, in its place was euphoric bliss unlike anything else. I began laughing uncontrollably, I wasn't even phased when another rouge wave hit seconds later I just shrugged it off and continued laughing as if I heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Close your eyes" Dad commanded, "Have faith, if not in Him, than in yourself."

I did as I was told and closed my eyes. I wasn't entirely sure on the faith side of the request, for my logical and rational side was beginning to surface, telling me that I was imagining everything. The truth was I didn't care if it was real or not, it was enough. I thought of all the people that I had lost, those who had died or were back in the States. I wondered if they thought about me, about where I was and what I was doing. Most of all I thought of Stewie.

"Take me home" I pleaded, "I don't care what you have to do…just please, take me home."

Before I could even so much as blink, Dad disappeared. I was alone. The silence of the now dark sea was frightening, for I had every reason to believe that I was going to die, that this was going to be the tragic end to the tragic story. I would not get the reward long sought, the just reward, which I had earned at that point. But still, it is through my own arrogance that I am in the sea to begin with, perhaps if I hadn't been so ambitious in the beginning, if I hadn't wanted more than what I already had, all of this would never have happened. I never would have met the love of my life, who I suspect now is happy with whoever she's with, if she's with anyone at all. I would have never left Quahog, I would have always looked at the world the same, in the same way, in cynical and cold hearted lights with close minded ideas that stilted progress and a life that, for the rest of it, would be nothing but depression, suffering and pain.

Maybe it was better that way. Maybe I wasn't meant for greater things. I should have stayed, I should have taken back everything that was said, everything that was done, it would have taken a while but everything would've gone back to normal eventually. Now, nothing will ever be the same. At night, when I do sleep, I can hear my own words coming back, haunting me to my very core.

"I want out of this family. I don't care what it is I have to fucking do I want you people out of my life…My life is over. Our lives are over. I don't want to be a part of this anymore."

I told them that I needed this, that I deserved this. To be cast out into the world on my own without help in order to find my own way. I was angry, I was upset, for the hope of a third date night and dinner had been ruined in the span of a few hours. It was my one shot, my last shot, at happiness. For one night I was the only thing that mattered, and it felt good, to be the center of attention for a while.

If I could turn back time, how things might have been different. Even if it was only for the past 24 hours it would still be a drastic improvement to my current situation, for I wouldn't be in the middle of the Mediterranean, which if we're taking this in steps, is one in the right direction.

Since I splashed down in the Mediterranean thanks to the courtesy of a flight attendant I hadn't slept a wink. Understandable given the circumstances, but even so my body, brokenness aside, was tiring. Soon, the life jacket wouldn't matter, I would succumb to exhaustion and either die from dehydration, for I was starting to get thirsty and the odds of anyone finding me were slipping by the minutes the further I drifted from land, or I would drown of my accord. It would be so simple, to take the life jacket off, let myself go into the water as my lungs filled and the air left, prefect for someone more worthy than I. The only thing that stopped me at the time, fear of getting eaten by sharks, for if I had to commit suicide, it was going to be as peaceful as possible. The sharks could have me when I'm dead, for I wanted to cling on to life for as long as possible, to reflect and think about everything and not worry about pain.

"The world is a cruel and dangerous place" I said aloud to myself, "It is not worth dying in, but it is not worth living in either."

I slowly began to fiddle with the frayed straps of the jacket, fully preparing myself yet again, for death that night. I had managed to undo the first strap, the second one was being stubborn, entangled in itself and the third and final strap. As I worked the euphoria suddenly returned, this time in the form of warmth, as if I were standing before a roaring fire. I stopped and simply decided to look up at the night sky. Seconds later, the bright searchlight of a fishing vessel came down upon me. The sound of a pulley as a dingy was lowered into the water, the oars crashing against the waves. I cried and did the only thing that made sense.

"Thank you" I exclaimed, my gaze ever upward like it had been throughout the ordeal, "Thank you, thank you."

I said nothing for twenty minutes, for I had entered shock at that point. The fishermen who had brought me out of the water, a man by the name of Leonardo DeCosta, carried me below deck where he confided me to the cargo hold. Wrapping me in the warmest blanket available, Leonardo only smiled and gently brushed my head, his eyes reminiscent for apparently I reminded him of someone. He didn't say a single word, he just kept that single solitary smile that told me that everything was going to be okay.

"DeCosta" one of the men said from above deck, "Let him rest. We can ship for the nearest port tomorrow, take him to a hospital and go from there."

The first bit of good news I had heard in weeks.

Now I am lying here, surrounded by nets, crates and a few odds and ends. It isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but I don't really care. I am saved. That is all that matters.