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Ruthie & her Saudara

Short story By: skilletgirl2
Other


I don't have much to say. . .but this is me!


Submitted:Mar 23, 2012    Reads: 6    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


Her Story
by: skilletgirl2
There once was a girl who went to a school with a whole bunch of rich and snobby kids. So there, she was the "odd-man-out." She had been there a mere grade, but each pupil decided she was wierd. The girl had no friends and she felt alone.
Then one day, an Indian girl named Ruthie showed up. Strangely, Ruthie and the loner were pained together in the "get-to-know-you" buddy system. They got to know each other and found both had a lot in common. Soon, the girl and Ruthie became best friends. They were invincible together. Or so they thought.
A few weeks later, a Muslim guy moved in the school. His "Allah" had told him to kill Ruthie. The way he went about this was harrassing her and breaking her feeble self-esteem. Ruthie looked into the mirror and saw only a piece of trash.
The girl just stood by, angered by the damage the bullying was causing her friend. She approached the Islamic native and said, "Look, I know she's Hindu and you're Muslim, but that doesn't mean you can just tear Ruthie apart. She's my friend. I understand this God thing. I have a Yahweh myself. But I request you'd break her off school grounds so I can focus on my grades."
She was about to walk away, confident he was going to stop his torment when he grabbed her wrist. He tightly restrained her small bone and snarled at her. "Look I know what I'm called to do, alright? Don't get in the middle of this." He gestured at her arm in his grasp. "If you do, I'll break your wrist."
The girl didn't think much about the threat. So what if she broke her wrist? Every one else did in their life, right? At least that's what she thought. Even so, she pulled away from verbally standing up and took Ruthie's hand emotionally, supporting her. This angered the Middle-Eastern and he made his move during the P.E. class they had together. There was a sharp edge that led from the sleek bleacher floor to the wooden bench against the brick wall. He caught her right on the sharp edge as she shuffled by in kickball. She squealed in pain, and sure enough, X-rays proved she had broken her wrist.
That wasn't going to stop the girl though. She approached him again after a few weeks of more destruction. "Look dude. You're kind of ticking me off. Stop messing with Ruthie."
The Muslim made a dirty threat-- he would come find her and rape her.
The girl was terrified at the threat. Her grades were dropping that year because she was focusing her attention on Ruthie instead of her studies. She was at the point of nearly failing the sixth grade. To frighten her into getting her act together, some encouraged and others condemned. All the negativity she recieved though, was based on her purity. The girl was majorly frightened.
The girl took a chance and still aided her friend with support and love. She shared the Gospel, but she was agnostic at the time. She didn't really think God was real. Why was He letting her go through this if He was real and loved her?
Ruthie and her companion stuck together like peanut butter and jelly on a sandwich. Even after not saying anything, the AlQuada member found a picture on Google of a girl's breasts and sex-ted it to everyone in the sixth grade class calling this poor girl a whore. She became very insecure and frightened. The girl became anxious and had frequent panic attacks. She decided to fade under the radar for her safety.
But after Thanksgiving break, Ruthie sat in the bleachers and confided to her sister-by-heart that she had nearly committed suicide that weekend. She had gone in front of her parents and was about to shove a knife in her gut when her mother stopped her.
Whether the girl's life was on the line or not, she was enraged about this. She stalked up to the odd duck about to say not something very nice when he pulled a twelve-inch razor sharp blade to her neck. "Don't move. Leave me the (bleep) alone or I will kill you. This is my battle, not yours. (bleep) off."
The boy was about to slice the girl's neck when they heard footsteps. But they never saw anyone come. While being a coward and running away to avoid prosecution, he cut her neck slightly. Yet, the blade still drew blood.
Being very strong and courageous as she was, Ruthie ran into the boys' bathroom (the nearest there was) and grabbed several sheets of paper towel before the cut could do much damage. There had already been trauma, and the girl sat below Ruthie's locker, sobbing hysterically. "I can't do this!"
Together, Ruby and her near Sacrafical Lamb tended to her neck wound, found a way to hide the injury, and cried together. Ruthie pushed back the girl's bangs. "Look, I love you to death, teman, but you can't do this anymore. Its too risky. He could kill you and will if you provoke him to be homicidal anymore. You have to find some release, saudara."
"I've tried everything!" the broken girl cried.
"Everything but something I'm doing. It might help you like it does me. Give you a buzz."
The chica heard the word buzz and her ears perked up (so to speak). "You have an idea?"
Ruthie nodded. "Cutting. Slit your wrists then take a shower immediately. The sting will feel like a good high and release the pain. I promise you. It works. Like nothing else will."
The girl contemplated it, listing out the pros and cons. If I do cut myself too much, then I can just be done with it. "Okay, she decided. I'll try it." She went home that night and snuck the sharpest knife into her room. She sliced her arm and felt the sting. The girl hissed at the pain, then went go wash out the torn skin. She felt such a surge of a bite and release, she hurried back to the sanctum of her privacy, and tore the flesh up and down her arm. Before she knew it, about two weeks later, she was an addicter cutter.
On the girl's twelfth birthday, Ruthie said she was moving away. Down in the obscurity and solitare of the girls' locker room, the sisters shared their last goodbye, with tears and hugs. "Dear friend, I'm sorry. I'm going home to Indonesia, saying farewell to my loved ones, and killing myself. I can't take this anymore."
After Ruthie had moved back to her own country, the girl turned numb and cold, like a marble statue in the winter. June 20, 2009 she decided she was done.
At one-thirty a.m., the girl took her cutting knife and hurried into the ominous woods. She sat on a log, crying her last tears. Then, she raised the blade and was going to stick it in the main artery in her neck when she saw the flick of a flashlight. Again, the beam landed on her face and pointed over her left shoulder. The girl broke down. Over her left hombro was home.
She ran home with the knife abandoned in the twigs and rotting limbs. The despaired niƱa lay in her bed, sobbing and knowing there was a reason to be alive. Whatever it was, its deadline was July 2.
The next morning the girl's Sunday school teacher had an objective lesson. She taught that how if you spent a lunch with the President, you wouldn't just talk about the color of your socks. You would talk about political things. But, the Lord's servant said, if you sat in God's presence and all you thought to think about was the color of your socks, he wouldn't mind. But He'd rather hear about your troubles and desires, your needs and passions.
The girl ran to the bathroom where she got sick to her stomach and cried unconsolably. "Okay, God. You got me. But I swear on anything that's true and holy, if you don't show me your love at camp this week, my soul is Lucifer's."
The next evening, she gave her life to Jesus, her King and Lover of her soul. Tuesday night, she recieved a powerful word from an elder and realized God wanted to pursue her, no matter how she felt. Wednesday, the girl was called into the mission field, to spread the Gospel in Uganda, Africa. On Thursday, she repented, scowling at the nasty scars on her arm. She groaned to the Lord, "God, chop off my arms! I don't deserve them! Just come and saw them off!" For she remembered the verse, "It is better a man to be blind than to live his life in sin."
The King told her to rise and the song the worship team was singing was a song she knew the sign language to. The girl did the signs and watched her hands in awe and fear. Her hands were glowing, being sanctified by the Spirit. She fell on her face again and gave her hands to the Lord for his good.
More than a year and a half later, He revealed to her He glorified himself to anyone who watched her worship with sign language. It was a gift he had given her, instead of a demonized curse on her soul.
After walking closely with the Lord after then, the girl moved on in life.
Until her world stopped spinning. On August 25, 2011 she recieved an email from Ruthie's mother.
Hamsika Ruthie Hondrika had committed suicide July 29, 2011. But in all things, the girl knew this very true fact: We know our God reigns!!!!
This, marafiki zangu ("my friends" in Swahili), is not a made up short story of my mind. This actually happened. It's just not a girl's made up tale of God's rescuing and provision.
THIS IS ME-- SKILLETGIRL2 (IN REALITY:RACHEL LYN WILLIAMS)
I BEG YOU FRIENDS, IF YOU EVER FEEL THIS WAY, CONTACT ME IMMEDIATELY. I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANOTHER THING LIKE THIS EVER HAPPEN TO ME AGAIN. MY EMAIL--
SKILLETGIRL2@GMAIL.COM
GOD BLESS! I HOPE MY TESTIMONY HAS BROUGHT HOPE AND PEACE INTO YOUR LIFE! TO ALL MY CUTTERS, MY BABIES, MY PEOPLE WHO HAVE SUFFERED A FRIEND'S LOSS OF SUICIDE OR ANY OTHER TYPE OF RELATIVE, AND OF COURSE, TO ALL MY PRECIOUS BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN THE LORD, BE STRONG AND VERY COURAGEOUS. 'FOR THE LORD KNOWS THE PLANS HE HAS FOR YOU. PLANS TO PROSPER YOU AND NOT TO HARM YOU. PLANS TO GIVE YOU A HOPE AND A FUTURE.' AND TO MY LACI: 'AND WE KNOW GOD WORKS ALL THINGS TOGETHER FOR THE GOOD OF THOSE WHO LOVE HIM, WHO ARE CALLED ACCORDING TO HIS PURPOSE! GOD BLESS!!!!!!!! REMEMBER: OUR ABBA FATHER'S LOVE IS ALWAYS STRONG ENOUGH!




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