The Passion

The bus hummed underneath my feet, and I shut my eyes as my stomach lurched along with the brakes.

Breathe in, breathe out

As I rested my head on the dirty window, my mind flashed back to the theatre, to the images of Jesus being beaten and whipped and bloodied. With every crack of the switch, I flinched and the girl next to me sobbed louder and louder. I covered my mouth with my hands, and felt myself dry heave. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still hear the sounds of ripping flesh and the cries of the man.

Breathe in, breathe out