Noe -The Harmless-

By Manny Hancer

This novel offers a profound lesson for those who know how to learn from unfavorable situations and who seek to make this world a better place.

Noe -The Harmless

• Language: English
• Publisher: Manny Hancer
• Release date: May 18, 2025
• ISBN: 9798349358050

Book preview

Offensive Content Disclaimer

This novel has a High Rating. It contains material that may be considered offensive, controversial, or triggering to some readers. This includes, but is not limited to strong brutal and graphic violence, graphic sexual content, and strong language. The content reflects the historical and cultural context in which it was created and may not align with contemporary values or sensibilities.

The religious, social and political views of controversial nature that are contained in this novel are not meant to influence readers in any way that's not helpful and safe to humanity and do not reflect the actual views of the writer. If you are sensitive to such topics, you may wish to consider this before proceeding. Reader discretion is advised.

This novel is not based on a true story or suitable for minors. It is inspired by true events, that have happened many times in history and at different nations around the world.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that. - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Noe -The Harmless-

Manny Hancer

To Martha. And the older children.

Copyright © 2015 Manny Hancer

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 979-8-89704-472-6

Cover design by: Lizette Durazo

Copyeditor: Mallory Todd

Printed in the United States of America

Table of contents

Heartbeat

Disclosure of Facts

The Prodigal Son

The Monastery

The Earlier Years

Internal echoes

The good boy

The testimony

Sequence of events

Aragones

The prom

The kidnapping

The intensive care unit

The Red Flags

Botelo

Life at Redemption

The secret war

The first taste of blood

The attempt

Silent fall

Noe’s Redemption

The vanishing

Amends

The three days of horror

•      SATURDAY

•      SUNDAY

•      MONDAY

The Aftermath

The life ahead

Epilogue

Heartbeat

Help was taking too long. The building had grown silent and everything had become fuzzy; it didn't feel real. I was still bleeding and my hands were getting numb. I was in excruciating pain and my heart was beating so hard I could literally hear it. I knew that would be my end if help didn't come quickly. I was terrified, but knew I had to be prepared for the worst.

I asked God to receive me into his kingdom and help my family cope with my loss. Words couldn’t describe how desperately I had wished I could see them and hug each and every one of them one last time. Neither before nor after that day did I ever feel so lonely and anxious about anything. I missed my home and my room dearly and unbearably. My whole life flashed in front of my watery eyes in a matter of seconds. I thought that was it for me.

I started closing my eyes, but the pain in my chest was so intense I didn't pass out. I was told to stay in the closet where I'd supposedly be safe, but by that time, I knew staying in it would cost me my life. I would have died if I waited for help to find me.

Leaving the closet was risky, but I had to take my chances. Finding help soon was my only hope for survival. I had to make an extraordinary effort to get to my feet. I gripped anything I could, all the while feeling like I was about to faint from the sheer effort it took to stand. I could still hear the thud of my heartbeat. I knew I could lose my life to either my wounds or murder any second. I just kept praying while moving on difficultly and very slowly.

Getting out of the closet led me into one of the most painful and horrifying moments of my life. My father was lying in a pool of blood on the office carpet. I tried to talk to him, but I couldn't. I was too weak to even whisper. I was having trouble breathing because of the frequent contractions in my chest. I was devastated to see my dad like that, but I knew I couldn't waste any time. He was dead, and I needed to survive.

I kept moving, begging God not to let anything happen to me. I thought of Dad to encourage myself as I slowly left the office and the science lab; I could hear him in my mind, Keep going Greta. I was his little girl, and I knew I had to survive for him.

The hallway was empty. There were shoe prints and blood smeared all over the place. I couldn't yell for help or even make any noise. I knew the shooters could be close and I couldn't let them notice my presence. My heartbeat was affecting my ability to hear, but I still could detect the sound of someone breathing nearby. The sound led me to a classroom a few feet away; I moved as fast as I could hoping there would be someone there in the right condition to help me. I soon realized that was actually my classroom.

What I saw from the door was more unsettling than my darkest nightmare. All of those inside except one were dead. This can't be happening! I thought to myself. I had been surrounded by all of them barely one hour earlier. No one had foreseen what was about to happen. The image of –their inert bodies, together with the relentless sound of the beat of my heart pushed me into insanity. I just lost it. The scene was so gruesome I could no longer move. I was in such shock that it made me forget my lack of air and the unbearable pain I was suffering.

Alina was the one alive. She had her eyes wide open and was bleeding profusely and breathing heavily. She noticed my presence and looked me in the eyes with a terrified expression on her face. She wasn’t able to speak but somehow, I knew she was begging me to help her. But I couldn't do anything. I surrendered to my shock and fell on my knees.

Another loud gunshot came eventually...this time from someone who had just arrived. It shook me and made my blood curdle, but it didn't kill me as I thought. Two men and a woman were there. I could hear their voices as they talked.

All I could remember from that point were fuzzy images and random noises in the background. Sirens were sounding nearby. Next thing I knew, I was holding Alina's hand even though I could no longer look at her in the eyes or hear her breathing. She had been gone for I didn't know how long. I too was gone shortly after.

Disclosure of Facts

The Prodigal Son

The ungrateful son hits bottom, learns his lesson and returns home, where he is received by his loving and forgiving father who even throws him a great celebration. Who has not heard that parable? Ironically enough, they say it was Jesus who told it. If that’s true and he told it exactly as it is known then even he avoided or forgot to mention a detail. That would explain why people continue to ignore this same detail nowadays.

That parable has been with me ever since our lives changed. It is interesting how much it has done for my family while it has broken my heart again and again as I have thought of it.

I couldn’t help but feel frustrated as I heard my brother preach it yet again in front of the hundreds of people who were present in the church. That was the first time I had dared to leave our house after I’d returned home. He sure was popular. People were suddenly interested in meeting me; it was so pathetic. They only knew about me because of who my brother was. He was a big inspiration to them, and a big joke to me.

My mother was so proud of Aaron she had been shedding tears of joy during the whole stupid sermon. Many things came to mind as I watched her. I couldn't believe she was happy on that date. I never thought she could ever be. She had fallen into her darkest depression hole all the other years. And so had the rest of the people in our city.

I was uncomfortable and regretted even being there. Yet I didn’t have the heart to share my thoughts with Mom. I had not seen her smile like that in several years. Her face had been frozen into this sad expression for a very long time.

I’d think about that and recall the parable yet again. Just like the father had begged his older son to join in on the celebration of his brother’s return, my mom had pretty much begged me to attend the sermon and witness the victory of my brother who just like the prodigal son, was far from deserving any glory.

That day was the anniversary of our city's most brutal tragedy. Every church in town had always prepared a special service in remembrance of the victims on that date and I knew that year wouldn't be the exception.

Nevertheless, I never thought the day would come when Aaron would be invited to be the preacher in one of them. I knew no one was stupid enough not to realize that the church was just using him to win more attendees; they all had been curious about our family since the tragedy and the heads of the church knew that. Yet, no one would dare to mention that. Not even me.

Those two hours felt extremely long. Aaron finished preaching and left the stage while the congregation applauded him. Leslie and my mother approached him excitedly. Leslie turned to see me and tried to encourage me to approach him too. I just didn’t feel like it. The echo of the words he had told me a few days earlier had been ringing in my ears as I was hearing his testimony that night; How can you suggest such a stupidity? How can you even think I’d sentence my son to carry such a curse? Can you imagine what that would do to his life?

An f-bomb would have been less hurtful to Aaron than what he had heard me say that day; I’d feel hurt too just by knowing that. It was awful to see how even he was shameless enough to judge someone he owed so much to. My suggestion had been fair in my opinion. I had suggested Aaron and Leslie to name their unborn son after our brother Noe.

Many people came to Aaron once he was off the stage. They all wanted to talk to him and seek his advice on their different situations. Someone else came to ask me if I was his brother and say hi to me. I just avoided the situation by excusing myself and made an attempt to head to the restroom. I walked a few feet and ran into someone I had not expected to see. Cristina, Noe’s old girlfriend was there.

Neither one of us could say a word. The expression on her face made it evident to me that she had heard Aaron’s testimony and spent the last two hours experiencing the same feelings I had been dealing with. It was an extraordinary moment. I had been thinking of Noe so much and struggling with so much anxiety that seeing Cristina again really made me lose it. Neither one of us had been able to get past him as hard as we had tried to.

We hugged and let the tears come out. We tried to speak, but Aaron came out of nowhere.

Aren’t you going to tell me anything Samar?

Aaron smiled when he saw the tears on my face. He was so stupid he really thought I was crying because of how powerful his testimony had been. He gave me an excited hug and I just stood still. He then saw Cristina. It took him a few seconds to recognize her, but he reacted with a fake smile once he did.

Cristina? Wow! It’s been such a long time.

She responded with something he never would have expected. It didn’t surprise me at all; You’re an idiot Aaron!

The anger in Cristina’s eyes when she said those words made Aaron visibly uneasy. I could tell it brought him very unwanted flashbacks. She walked away without another word. Cristina was mad at him for the same reasons I was.

Understanding how my mom could feel so proud and happy while hearing her son divulge our family’s troubled past in front of hundreds of people was impossible. The fact that it helped him get to be seen as a survivor and deeply admired by big congregations wasn’t worth our right to keep our lives, and the pain we had to bear every day, privately. I was certainly regretting having returned home. I’d definitely move out soon.

The church pastors insisted on buying us dinner that night. A few of the congregation members came along. I wasn’t in the mood to join in, but didn’t want to hurt my mom’s feelings. She had been very happy ever since I had decided to abandon the monastery and come back home. That, along with Aaron’s success and the fact that she’d be a grandma for the first time soon, had her very excited and a lot happier than I had ever seen her.

Aaron wouldn’t stop talking. They were all hanging onto his every word at the restaurant. It was almost as if the few hours he had spent preaching at the church had not been enough for him to be satisfied with the attention he got. I knew him well, unlike almost all of the people present. That was maybe why I was feeling so annoyed.

Alfredo Paz, the main pastor of the church was the other person who wouldn’t stop talking. He and Aaron would keep going about how to help redeem dysfunctional sinners through their personal testimonies and own experiences. The few people present would feed the fire by granting them their full attention, asking them questions and sharing their own ideas.

Alfredo noticed my silence and tried to encourage me to speak at some point;

I’m especially curious about your testimony Samar. I bet it is as interesting and powerful as your brother’s. We all had been looking forward to meeting you personally.

I answered with a question: So you all have been curious about me because of my brother?

Yes, he has told us a lot about you.

My answer to that brought the reaction I expected; I didn’t mean Aaron.

Everyone at the table went quiet. The silence lasted some awkward seconds in which they all avoided eye contact with each other. I knew both Aaron and Alfredo were trying to think of a way to get past my words and keep the talk going without getting into what or who I had in mind.

Ultimately, it was me who broke the silence; "I can tell you’re a wise man Alfredo, it is easy to see. Still, I wonder if you’d be able to answer me one question."

He looked at me with curiosity and tried to sound confident in his words, Well, why don’t you try me and see?

I went ahead and exposed my thoughts to him; You guys keep on talking about those alcoholics, drug addicts, gang members, sluts, criminals, and abusers of all kinds who need to be redeemed, healed and saved from hell. But, do you ever take one second to think of the other children of God?

He made his confusion clear, What do you mean? What other children?

I answered reflecting the indignation in my voice; The older children! Those who choose to stay home and look after their loved ones while the little ones are gone, enjoying their dysfunctional lives and not giving a damn about their families’ suffering. Those who suffer worse than anyone else by doing the right things and yet never receive any glory or even get to be acknowledged by anyone. Kids like my brother…

Stop it, Samar! my mom cut me off.

She too was avoiding being taken back to the past. I looked at the concern in her face and felt bad that I was ruining the night for everyone.

I excused myself and left the table. Aaron followed me to the men’s room and tried to let me have it there.

Samar what the hell?! Why are you being such a jerk? Don’t you see how important this is to me and Mom?

I know it’s important to you, but not to me! Sorry.

Not to you huh? I’m your brother! How can you not give a damn? You know how hard my fight has been better than most people!

I turned to look at him in the eyes. Your fight Aaron? What effort did it take you to let yourself fall apart during all of those years? What kind of role model are you trying to be?

Aaron’s face turned red. His voice reflected how hurt he was. "You’re an ignoramus Samar! It might have been better if you had stayed in the monastery."

I gave him an honest answer, We finally agree on something …and then walked out of the place.

I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. I took a cab and left. Aaron’s words were ringing in my head as I was carried away from the restaurant. The six months I had spent at the monastery had been enough for me to get unused to the normal world; yet, not enough to forget what had stayed behind me.

Our town had not changed at all in the last few years. I could tell that as I was riding the cab through its streets. It all looked the same, but I knew it didn’t feel the same to most people. Bucaramanga had always been a quiet and boring little city. Always...until the day came, we were struck by that horrifying tragedy. I knew I was far from being the only person who was still struggling with it. But I knew no one knew the facts that had brought that tragedy on all of us better than me.

Barely one year ago I had decided to give my life to God and work on his purposes. I was in a desperate need to find peace, and had thought that joining God’s army was the one thing I could do to help make up for the mistakes and sins of my family. It had not been long after that day that I had been invited to live in a monastery as an aspiring monk.

I was supposed to go through a whole year of vocational discernment. This was in order for me and everyone else to be certain that I had the vocation to be a man of God. I knew deep inside I wasn’t really meant to do that with my life. I didn’t know why I wanted to take that step. All I knew was that I needed to do something, anything, that would help me get my mind off the things my family and I had gone through.

I was so firm in my decision that I didn’t hesitate to end my courtship with Nuria. As an aspiring monk I was forbidden to have relationships with women, so she was cut out of my life. We had been together for six years by the time I broke up with her. She cried like a crazy woman just like I had foreseen. She continued to question me why, even though she knew the answer.

She knew I was not born to serve a church. She was heartbroken as I confirmed to her that day what she had so desperately tried not to face; that I never loved her enough to leave the past behind.

She had failed to help me heal my pain and keep that sweet love I used to have for her alive in my heart. She was no longer special to me. More, she brought me bad memories as we had gotten together for the wrong reasons. She was one of many things I was meant to leave in the past if I really wanted to move on. She swore with tears in her eyes that she would always be waiting for me. I told her not to waste her life by making that mistake.

It was sad, but ending things with Nuria was the first thing I did that really helped me experience some of the healing I had been trying to find for so long.

The Monastery

Mom cried a lot the day I left home. She made things much harder on me that way. I was told the trip would be very long and it was. The monastery was settled right in the middle of the Occidental Cordillera. I had to travel two full days by bus and three by donkey in order to get there.

I made the trip in a group consisting of one clerical guide and three aspiring monks out of which I was the only one who was under twenty-seven. I was twenty-one. That was the perfect age to give my life to God according to most religious leaders, and too young to do it according to my friends and family.

The trip was brutally uncomfortable. It felt like we’d never get there. The bus we were on for the first two days was crappy, dusty, and so stinky and full I found it hard to breath. We were all crushing one another. There weren’t any seats left when we got on.

I had to travel many hours standing. We all were sweating due to the lack of fresh air. It was like being in a sauna. I was soon exhausted and ended up passing out on my feet with my head leaning on the shoulder of some stranger with bad breath. I felt relieved when we left the bus two days later. I enjoyed that relief while I still could.

The part of the trip we made by donkey was not any better than the bus ride. The trip felt so long I thought I’d lose my mind. The mist of the mountains kept me always wet. The hat I was wearing wouldn’t stop the wind from hitting my face and the donkey’s constant motion made my butt so sore I was in pain from the first five hours. I struggled to sit and walked like a cowboy for a few days once the trip was over.

I had been regretting my decision ever since I had gotten on the bus. I would ask myself at times if it was too late to turn around and go back home. I looked forward to getting to our last stop every second while riding the donkey. Sadly, arriving there made me even more depressed than I already was.

The place was settled in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of kilometers away from the nearest town and the people of the rest of the world. There was a total of thirty-one monks living there out of which, at least eighteen were around seventy years old. Most of them had been there for decades. They all got excited when they saw me, as they had not seen a young person in a very long time. They’d seek any excuse to talk to me or even touch me. They made me feel uncomfortable and awkward with their friendliness.

The place was depressing. The monastery was eroded, deteriorated, and very old and ugly. There was no running water, drainage, or even electricity. The monks had to use candles and oil lamps, use latrines, collect water from rain and chop wood every day to make the fire so they could cook and keep their facilities warm. They made money by making homemade eggnog and selling it to different towns.

Knowing that I’d have to live in those conditions made me feel scared. I regretted greatly not seeing any other person of my age living there. That’s when it finally hit me…it was for real. I had given God my life. Every single thing I liked doing and every single person I loved was gone for good. No more freedom for me. I’d have to live in total and absolute solitude from that day on, away from all real-world pleasures and beautiful things. I had changed my entire life for a future of total and absolute confinement and isolation.

That was a very hard moment to me. I felt scared like a child and missed my home painfully. It was ironic how badly I had hated home for so many years. I had never thought being so far away from it would make me feel so miserable and lonely. I don’t even know how I managed not to let my pain be noticed by the monks.

A community meeting after dinner and a praying circle before lights out were part of the daily schedule that monks were never allowed to skip. I was lucky that day as the monks were nice and acknowledged how exhausted I was and how badly I needed to rest from my long trip. They let me go to sleep after dinner.

The monks gave me a very small room that I was going to have to share with Rafael; one of the other two newbies who had come on trip. I had a hard time getting in my sleeping clothes because of how small the space was.

A thunderstorm we had on the night of my arrival was the cherry that topped the cake of my anxiety. I woke up to the creepy thunder and lightning and then had a very hard time trying to fall asleep again.

The thunder was horrific. My room was getting colder, and the blanket I had wasn't thick enough to keep me warm. I put one of my sweaters on and tried to fall asleep again. Rafael, in the other bed, didn't seem to have any problem at all with the storm. He was snoring almost as loud as the thunder. I was stressed out from being unable to fall sleep in spite of how dead tired I was.

I got lost in my thoughts again as I was trying to sleep. The storm was adding strength to the feeling of regret I had been dealing with ever since I had left home. The cold was intensifying. I was afraid of going around the creepy and dark monastery looking for a second blanket, but I didn't have a choice; I'd either do that or freeze my butt off that night.

I lit a small candle I found by the door and left the room. I had no idea of where to go find what I was looking for. Wandering around looking for some clothing closet or laundry room led me accidentally to something that looked like a prayer room. I tried to turn around and then, I stumbled inadvertently over a step. The candle fell off my hand and everything went completely dark. The candle was nowhere to be found and the darkness was not helping me; I was in big trouble. I had always been afraid of the dark.

It took a couple of claps of thunder for me to corner myself tightly in a small corner. I sat directly on the floor and held my knees tight with my arms. The lightning was flashing repeatedly; each and every one of them gave me a scary and terrifying glimpse of the place I was at.

The praying room was full of small statues and images of saints made of all different materials. All of them looked very old and appeared to be alive and even staring at me with every flash. The sound of the wind and the rain was loud. I was having a hard time trying to keep it together. I was so scared I couldn't move; yet, I would not dare to yell for help. I then tried to think of something else in order to relax and avoid thinking about what was happening.

My fear of the dark brought a few memories to my head. I remembered my childhood and how my parents used to get mad at me for refusing to sleep with the lights off every night. My father was an angry man who would never let me crawl into bed with him and Mom. Blackouts were common during storms and naturally, I'd be terrified every night we had that situation.

Even the big fear I had of my dad was not as great as my fear of the dark. He'd ground me and remind me more than once how expensive electricity was and yell at me if my brother wasn't there to defend me. I would always turn to my brother when I was scared. He was the only one to whom I could go to find safety as I was forbidden to turn to my parents and Aaron was never home.

The storm seemed to be slowing down. I started sliding in and out of consciousness as I was still on the floor. I had another flashback at that moment of the many storms that caused our electricity to go out. I was nine, and was scared as always. Aaron was not home as usual and I could hear Mom and Dad arguing angrily from my room. I went to Noe's room. He opened the door and looked at me unsurprised.

What? Are you scared again?

I answered shaking uncontrollably; Y...Yeah!

Noe let me in. He had a candle lit in his room. He helped me get on his bed and bent down to look at my face.

Why are you shaking so bad?

I… don't know...!

A loud burst of thunder came right after I said that. My shaking increased and my brother started rubbing my shoulders. He was not scared at all. He looked at me in the eyes and talked to me:

You have to stop being such a chicken. Rain, thunder and lightning are natural things, there's no reason to fear them. Learn to be a man.

My brother was barely fourteen back then. He was wise and mature even being so young. I told him, Mom and Dad are fighting again!

And he said I know. That's as bad it's going to get, so don't worry.

I heard the echo of those words in my mind at the same time another burst of thunder came. That's how bad it's going to get, he said to me right before wrapping me in his blankets and letting me fall asleep. I'd be waking up in my own bed later on every time. Noe always carried me back once I was already asleep. He cared enough to even leave me a lit candle to make sure I wouldn’t get scared if I woke up at some point during the night.

I was able to control my nervousness by thinking of those words; yeah, the rainstorm was loud and the monastery dark, but that was as bad as things were going to get. I got off the floor and left the prayer room.

Next thing I knew, I was back in the hallway. Someone had the light on and the door open some steps away. That created enough reflection for me to be able to see where I was going. I was moving slowly as I was overwhelmed by sadness. Having remembered my brother had brought me to ask myself the same damn questions I could never find answers for: How the hell did I get to that point in my life? What the hell had happened to Noe?

I knew someone had to be in the room ahead of me and that I'd have to ask them where to find a blanket and how to get back to my room.

All of a sudden, I began to hear the notes of a ballad I knew pretty well. The song was Rats Do Not Have Wings, a bitter and depressing rock song that used to be one of Noe's favorites; a hit single of a Mexican band named Jaguares that was famous in Colombia back in the day. My heart started beating hard, and suddenly, everything seemed to go in slow motion. Anxiety came over me. I could feel it grow inside me with every step I made towards the room.

I felt Noe's presence so strong I feared passing out before getting to see him. I knew my heart couldn't be wrong. He had to be in there. I finally got to the frame of the door where I could hear the song more clearly. I took a look inside the room and there he was …I was stunned.

The lump in my throat was merciless. I couldn't speak. My need to cry was desperate and yet, I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to react in any way. I started shedding tears silently as I was watching my big brother sitting on a cot, with his old radio by his side and in his gray high school uniform. He was playing with something and didn’t seem to notice my presence. His gaze seemed to be very focused on what he was doing.

There were so many things I wanted to do at that moment I could not even think clearly about what was going on. Noe was back, that was all I knew. That was how I knew he had been gone. That was what reminded me of what he had done. And that's how I finally realized what he was doing.

He had a gun, a rifle, rifle bullets and gunpowder on the cot. He was loading both weapons as I was watching him. A very distressed echo came to my mind: Oh God, no!!!

Noe still didn't seem to notice me. I made an extraordinary effort to overcome the big lump in my throat and speak. I could only whisper one word, Why? He didn't react to my question. He just continued focused on what he was doing as if he had not heard me or even noticed me yet.

I made another effort and was finally able to move. I made one step towards him and whispered again with distress, Why?! He acknowledged me this time. He lifted his face, looked at me and gave me a cold expression and a cold answer, "Ask him." He glanced at the wall and I turned to see. There was a crucifix hanging on it.

A voice brought me back; Samar! Hey! I got scared and took a deep distressed breath as I tried to figure out what was happening. Danilo, the other aspiring monk who had come in my group was in front of me holding a lit candle. He said: "It’s me, calm down," and I came back to the reality.

I was still in the prayer room; I had passed out at some point and Danilo had found me by accident. What are you doing here? he asked. I tried to answer, but I couldn’t speak. My nightmare had left me in shock and I was struggling not to have a nervous breakdown.

Danilo noticed my struggle, Are you ok?

I tried to speak again, but that resulted in me losing it. I broke down in tears. Danilo got worried. He tried to go get someone and I didn’t let him. He then stayed there waiting for me to settle down. He questioned me one more time, What is wrong? And I avoided his question. All I could do was ask him, "Please! Help me find a blanket and lead me to my room."

....................................

The monks woke me up very early the next day. That’s when the hard work started. They kept me busy the whole day. I had to chop wood, help build a fence, learn how to set fire to cook food and warm up our facilities, clean and unpack my stuff. That first day of work was tough as hell, especially because of the terrible night I had had and the lack of sleep.

Danilo had respected what I had asked him the previous night. He had kept between us how he had seen me and stopped asking why I was so upset even when he was still curious about that. He and Rafael were both twenty-seven, the youngest people in the monastery after me.

The bible study circle we had after dinner was the one thing I couldn't comply with fully. I had thought things would be fine if I just took a seat and let the monks run the show. I assumed I wouldn’t have to share my thoughts about anything but was willing to lie and pretend if I had to. I did not see a reason not to be able to go with the flow in a discreet way.

I was right for the most part, but there was one thing I didn't foresee. I knew we’d end the day with a group prayer and got prepared to fake it too. I had expected the monks to pray standing, but to my surprise, a statue of a crucified Jesus was placed in the center of the circle and they all got on their knees before it.

I couldn’t bring myself to get on my knees. I looked at the statue and couldn’t even move. I wasn’t able to pretend. The monks saw I was still standing and one of them talked to me;

"Kneel down Samar, we all must show respect."

I still couldn’t react. Another monk asked:

Is there something wrong?

I put my head down to avoid seeing their faces. I couldn’t say a word. Brother Saul, the abbot talked to me too.

You have been asked a question Samar, answer! Show obedience or we’ll doubt you have the vocation to be here.

There was no way around it; I had to talk: "I...can’t kneel down."

The abbot asked –Why?"

Then I told the truth: "Because I won’t kneel down to an image of Jesus. I do not feel like it."

The men were confused. They knew I wasn't making sense. The abbot asked everyone to get off their knees and sit down. He then got close to me.

Samar, you just made a very long trip to come here and become a servant of Jesus. You made that decision on your own and without having been pressured by anyone as far as I know. What is going on? Have you been lying all along?

I stayed quiet and kept my head down. Brother Saul grabbed my chin and made me face him.

Look at me! Why won’t you kneel down in the presence of Jesus? And why did you come here?

I avoided his eyes for three seconds and caught a glimpse of Danilo staring at me from where he was. I gave Brother Saul the answers he asked: "I came here looking for peace and to escape from the world. I hate Jesus, that’s why I won’t kneel down to him."

Everyone in the room remained quiet. The abbot continued to look at me as I struggled not to shed tears. He then took me to his office and Brother Jose, his assistant, came with us. Then the abbot confronted me.

Do you realize how senseless you are acting Samar? What do you think this place and these habits are? A joke? I can’t believe what you said! Why did you come to this place if this is not your true call? Were you really planning to dedicate your life to God or were you just trying to make fun of Him? Why did you lie and take things this far?

I did not lie.

You didn’t lie? Then how were you expecting to become a monk when you don’t even love God?

I made a big effort to talk without letting my voice break. "I... was hoping I could heal my hate for him."

Well, that’s something you need to do first in order to know if you can be his servant or not. I had not been this confused about anything in years! How in the world did it happen that you decided to pursue this life? Why would you want to if you don’t even like the idea?!

But I do like the idea!

Oh please Samar! I’ve been watching you ever since you arrived. Your miserable face is impossible to miss. You do not have a heart for serving. You hate the idea of being here and grieve the freedom you’ve left behind. You see this life as a miserable sacrifice. It is nothing less than a punishment to you.

I had not noticed at all how well Brother Saul had been watching me. I felt stupid for having tried to fool the monastery. It had been a terrible idea. More, I had fooled myself into thinking that I could take the habits and live that kind of life. The abbot continued talking once he saw I wasn’t able to speak.

It is late and we all have to be up early. Go get your stuff, you’ll be staying in the chamber of reflections. You’re forbidden to leave the chamber for any reason and talk to anyone. You’ll be in absolute isolation and silence until I can talk to you again. I expect you to use your time to meditate and think about what you came here for and what you need to do next. Make sure to pray for guidance. Start working things out with Jesus.

I did as Brother Saul said. I got my stuff and moved to the chamber of reflections. I could tell no one had slept there in a long time. The room was dark and scary to me. It had a big crucifix in it, yet another one. I got settled while I thought of how things couldn't go any worse. And then it happened. A large burst of thunder came and a new storm started.

That was the hardest night I had that year. I had not been very worried about that kind of storm knowing that I'd be sharing my room with Rafael. Having someone else with me in the room made me feel safe, even though I barely knew the guy.

Being alone that night was hard. The thunder and lightning felt even more powerful, intense and disturbing than they did the day before. The rain and wind were a lot louder too.

I noticed at some point the rain had turned into hail. It was so loud I feared the roof would collapse and crush me. I was nervous and terrified. My heartbeat was out of control. I didn’t know what to do to calm myself. I couldn’t even help myself through prayer. I didn’t know how to talk to God after having confessed how I really felt about him. All I could do was lay down in fetal position and repeat to myself the same sentence over and over hoping the storm would be over soon: This is how bad it’s going to get!

The creepy aspect of the chamber and the big crucifix in front of me were two more things I was uneasy about. I covered myself from head to toe with my blankets to avoid seeing them and embraced my pillow trying to feel safe and stay warm. The rainstorm started to slow down eventually but I was unable to sleep by then. I got so deeply lost in my thoughts that at some point I even forgot my nervosity and how scared I was.

Thinking about why I went there was one of the things I was supposed to do while being in isolation. It was one of the questions I needed to find an answer for. I knew I needed to meditate in order to be able to help myself. I tried to, but the only life I could think of wasn’t my own. It was my brother Noe’s, the one I had been obsessing about for years.

I had been given a pen and a notebook to write notes and assist me in my meditations. I sat down and started writing the whole story of my family all of it exactly as it had been, with all of the shame and horrors it involved. I dared to face all of the facts. The process of writing it was easier than simply thinking it.

The Earlier Years

I will never know why my brother Noe was such a good kid. It didn’t make sense if we kept in mind how dysfunctional our family always was. Dad had always been a leech and a distorted man who’d get drunk and high and cheat on Mom every day. I don’t know how many times Noe had to go look for him everywhere to keep Mom from going into hysterics. He would always find him completely wasted, either already passed out or close to it.

I was the youngest of three kids. Noe would ask me to stay with Mom every time he had to go find Dad or Aaron. I’d just go to my room and play video games while waiting for everyone else to return. Dad would always puke and pee on himself in the end because of how intoxicated he was. Noe and Mom would always have to bath him and put him in bed, so he wouldn’t have to wake up in his own filth. Obviously, they would have to clean up his mess every time.

Dad was never able to keep a job for more than two months. He was an irresponsible man in every single way and in every single role. He wasn’t interested in changing. No boss would ever want to cope with his nasty agendas. He was shameless and irreverent if he was addressed on his failures by anyone.

Needless to say, he was a dick at home too. He was a very angry and proud being; a loser with terrible issues who was useless to everyone and absolutely incapable of taking responsibility for his actions. An awful human being who'd always give and make excuses for everything and blame others for his behavior. An addict whose interests didn’t include his family. We all knew it; alcohol and women were the only two things Dad always had on his mind. He’d try to hook up with a different woman every day. He was lascivious as hell and had no problem letting it show.

My mom on her side was quite pathetic. A woman who built her pride around the fact that she was the only provider of her family. The owner, worker and administrator of a small bakery store she had inherited from my grandparents.

She was excessively attached to Dad for reasons that none of us were able to understand. She would spend every day complaining, crying, and whining about how much Dad and my brother Aaron made her suffer. She was bitter, an addict to her own misery, and manipulative to a fault. Completely incapable of kicking Dad out even when she knew he was useless as a husband and father.

Mom was also a fan of sympathy. She was a two-faced neurotic who'd always appear friendly and smiley to people and enjoy their compliments on what a good mother she was and how our family was surviving thanks to her. All of our neighbors knew Dad and Aaron were useless parasites and that it was Mom who was providing for all of us and facing our problems all by herself. They were always wowed by her ability to smile, be nice and friendly to everyone and have such a sweet soul in spite of her afflictions.

She would absolutely enjoy their compassion and admiration for her. None of the neighbors could have imagined what she was like behind closed doors. None of them knew she was an abusive neurotic woman who’d always get up and go to bed in a bad mood and find any excuse to become hysterical, hurtful and verbally aggressive.

Aaron was and had always been a smaller version of Dad. An alcoholic, addict and immoral being who’d do nothing but bring trouble home. He was a gangster, the lead of a disgusting ring of dysfunctional losers who’d bully kids, harass girls, assault others, seek fights for no reason and steal from anyone they could in order to buy, make and sell drugs.

He had been expelled from every school he had ever gone to and had never shown interest in finding a job. He was never home. He’d only come home to sleep at times or get money from Mom or steal it from her bakery.

Aaron was my parents’ oldest child and the only spoiled and evil one of the three of us. He was a terrible son who’d never help our family in any way and just spend his life seeking to please himself and toying with the well-being of others.

As a brother, he was simply undesirable. He’d give Noe and me a hard time if he was mad about anything. He didn’t give a damn or ever do anything good for any of us, not even for Mom, no matter how bad he’d see her suffer. He would not hesitate to steal from her or Noe if he was broke. He never spent a single second helping with the business or our house. He’d only enter our store to steal cash from the sales of the day. He was abusive, selfish, insensitive, disrespectful and irreverent. He was a bully who only cared about his filthy businesses and his gang.

I’d never be able to tell how many times Mom and Noe had to get Aaron out of jail. And of course, he would never thank them for it. He was proud of his disgusting life. He was the big dog, who’d decide who’d be victimized by his gang and how the drug dealing would be done. He totally loved how his gang looked up to him. He was a god in his mind and his nasty little world.

My brother Noe was the only member of our family who always used to act normal and appeared to be functional and okay. This sadly, would lead him to be the one to have to deal with our worst situations all the time. Noe was a very good kid, responsible, selfless, respectful, well-behaved, kindhearted, supportive and loving. He was totally incapable of getting in trouble anywhere or failing to help his family if that was necessary. And it always was.

Our parents, Aaron and I would