Arel felt the air grow heavy around him, as if the very room was closing in on him. The silence had become unbearable, pressing against his chest, making it harder to breathe with every passing second. His mind, once a fragmented collection of thoughts, was now a battlefield—every thought, every emotion, warring against each other.
For the first time in days, he stood, his body shaking but his resolve hardening. He could no longer let the silence consume him. He had spent too long waiting for God to answer, waiting for something—anything—that would break this oppressive stillness. But now, he was done waiting.
He stepped forward, his voice rising as he spoke, the words burning in his throat. "You think you can silence me forever, don't you?" he shouted into the emptiness. "You think you can ignore me, let me drown in this... this hell of my own making?"
His eyes burned with an intensity that came from more than just anger. There was a fury, yes, but also something darker, something more desperate. It was a cry, a plea that had been building for years. His love for God had never wavered, but the pain of rejection had driven him to the edge.
"I've given you everything!" he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "I've loved you with all my heart, with all my soul! And you—" He stopped, the words catching in his throat. His chest tightened as the weight of what he was saying settled in. It wasn't just anger. It was sorrow. It was betrayal.
For a moment, Arel stood still, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked around the room, as if expecting some divine response, some answer to his cries. But there was nothing. No voice. No sign. No presence.
Arel's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, his hands gripping the sides of his head as if to hold himself together. He felt like he was falling, spiraling into a darkness that had no end. The room seemed to fade away, and all that was left was the echo of his own voice, reverberating in the empty space.
"I don't even know who I am anymore…" he whispered, his voice broken. "I don't know if I'm calling out to you or screaming into the void."
Tears welled in his eyes, but they were not tears of relief. They were tears of frustration, of hopelessness. Arel had wanted so much more. He had wanted the connection, the answer. But all he had was silence.
Then, suddenly, as if the universe itself was listening, Arel felt something shift. It was subtle at first, a small crack in the oppressive silence. The air seemed to change, and for a brief moment, Arel thought he could feel a presence—something powerful, something ancient.
"You've been waiting for me all along, haven't you?" he whispered, his heart racing.
And for the first time, Arel realized that this wasn't just a confrontation. It was the beginning of something far more profound. The final confrontation wasn't with God. It was with himself.