{"id":1300,"date":"2012-10-08T08:56:59","date_gmt":"2012-10-08T08:56:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/averral.com\/blog\/?p=1300"},"modified":"2012-10-08T13:02:05","modified_gmt":"2012-10-08T13:02:05","slug":"faith","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.averral.com\/blog\/2012\/10\/faith\/","title":{"rendered":"Kiss of Judas"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n

“Do you… still have faith?” I asked Judas. I was helplessly wounded on the floor, bleeding from a bullet that hit my shoulder.<\/p>\n

“Yes I do.” He held my hand tightly. “Stay with me. Don’t sleep.” He took a piece of handkerchief and tried to stop the wound from bleeding by tying a tourniquet.<\/p>\n

I was losing consciousness. I could feel the blood draining out of my veins, weakening my resolve to stay alive.<\/p>\n

“Maybe, it is more beautiful in the other world. I have lost faith.” I whispered slowly and softly… my vitality erasing away.<\/p>\n

“No! Stay with me. We can create something beautiful.” He tightened his grasp on my hands, cupping them together. “Believe in me.”<\/p>\n

“You betrayed my trust.” I looked at him with all the effort I could muster. “You led to my death.” I teared.<\/p>\n

“No! I love you. Believe me. I did love you.” He looked deep into my eyes, his brown hair touching the tips of my face, his scent, as addictive as ever. At least, I consoled myself, he is beside my deathbed.<\/p>\n

“Did you loved me like how you loved Jesus?” I knew my time was running short, my voice dripping lower with each breath.<\/p>\n

“Yes…. and no… but stay with me. Don’t go.” He began to cry uncontrollably, and whimpered.<\/p>\n

He looked at me closely, bent over and laid a kiss on my lips, the Kiss of Judas. <\/strong><\/p>\n

“I can’t…” I glanced at his hands… I can no longer feel them.<\/p>\n

I breathed his scent in heavily for the last time.<\/p>\n

“Good bye, Judas.” <\/em>I said as I drifted into the next life.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“Do you… still have faith?” I asked Judas. I was helplessly wounded on the floor, bleeding from a bullet that hit my shoulder. “Yes I do.” He held my hand tightly. “Stay with me. Don’t sleep.” He took a piece of handkerchief and tried to stop the wound from bleeding by tying a tourniquet. I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\t\n