[JP] Picture Prompt
Prompt
Angela Petrelli was not a woman of great faith.
The weekly ritual of attending mass had long since lost its cathartic nature and become almost like a chore in that respect, another piece of her going through the motions and pretending that everything was alright. After Kirby Plaza, she’d stopped going completely, almost as though losing Peter had killed that last piece of effort she needed to keep going through the motions.
She was tired. Tired of the pompous self-righteousness, the false promises of deliverance to a God who was far more merciful in their fairytales than she was inclined to believe he was. Angela had seen the end of the world and all in entailed, and she couldn’t find herself believing that the supposedly merciful God of scripture and the higher power that would bring about judgment in that particular manner were one in the same. Her dreams were full of hellfire and damnation, and maybe that was just her particular day of judgment, her punishment for the life she had lead, but after nearly losing both her sons, she just couldn’t bring herself to care.
She had also found the sacrament of confession the most tiring ritual of all. Confession was good for the soul, they said, and yet Angela had never found much comfort in confessing to an anonymous stranger. Aside from the idea that most of the sins on her list, a priest would never believe or even begin to understand, Angela hadn’t started to lose control yet. Her secrets were hers to keep, and until the day when they were relevant for others to understand, they were going to stay that way. However, the situation she was in now was far from the normal ritual.
She hid in the dark of the confessional, and she didn’t have to dream to know that she and Peter were going to get caught. They had no way to escape from Danko’s men, and they would probably wind up in cells by the end of the day. There were things that needed to be said, and what better place to say them than a confessional-a place meant to absolve, yet hold the secrets as well. This wasn’t her confessing to an anonymous priest, to someone who wouldn’t understand. This was her son, someone who was so much like herself before the world swallowed her whole, and someone who she needed to understand, more than anything else. So she confessed-lifted some of the many secrets off her soul and let Peter know that in the end, his mother, whatever he may have thought of her, was just as lost and confused as he was. She confessed and eased her burden, searching for absolution and forgiveness from the one person who could give it to her.
And when Bennet let them go, she slept.
475 words
Angela Petrelli was not a woman of great faith.
The weekly ritual of attending mass had long since lost its cathartic nature and become almost like a chore in that respect, another piece of her going through the motions and pretending that everything was alright. After Kirby Plaza, she’d stopped going completely, almost as though losing Peter had killed that last piece of effort she needed to keep going through the motions.
She was tired. Tired of the pompous self-righteousness, the false promises of deliverance to a God who was far more merciful in their fairytales than she was inclined to believe he was. Angela had seen the end of the world and all in entailed, and she couldn’t find herself believing that the supposedly merciful God of scripture and the higher power that would bring about judgment in that particular manner were one in the same. Her dreams were full of hellfire and damnation, and maybe that was just her particular day of judgment, her punishment for the life she had lead, but after nearly losing both her sons, she just couldn’t bring herself to care.
She had also found the sacrament of confession the most tiring ritual of all. Confession was good for the soul, they said, and yet Angela had never found much comfort in confessing to an anonymous stranger. Aside from the idea that most of the sins on her list, a priest would never believe or even begin to understand, Angela hadn’t started to lose control yet. Her secrets were hers to keep, and until the day when they were relevant for others to understand, they were going to stay that way. However, the situation she was in now was far from the normal ritual.
She hid in the dark of the confessional, and she didn’t have to dream to know that she and Peter were going to get caught. They had no way to escape from Danko’s men, and they would probably wind up in cells by the end of the day. There were things that needed to be said, and what better place to say them than a confessional-a place meant to absolve, yet hold the secrets as well. This wasn’t her confessing to an anonymous priest, to someone who wouldn’t understand. This was her son, someone who was so much like herself before the world swallowed her whole, and someone who she needed to understand, more than anything else. So she confessed-lifted some of the many secrets off her soul and let Peter know that in the end, his mother, whatever he may have thought of her, was just as lost and confused as he was. She confessed and eased her burden, searching for absolution and forgiveness from the one person who could give it to her.
And when Bennet let them go, she slept.
475 words