"The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die."
— Juliette Lewis
Sister Agnes' POV.
A knock sounded at the door.
Soft at first.
Then again—slightly louder.
I paused, lifting my head.
I wasn't expecting anyone.
The house had been quiet all evening, and I had secretly hoped for a little more time alone with my thoughts.
The knock came again.
A faint uneasiness stirred in my chest.
I stood up slowly and walked toward the door, my steps measured, my mind already wondering who it could be.
As I reached for the handle, something in me hesitated.
Then I opened it.
"Angel…?"
She stood there.
Her wide blue eyes—usually so bright, so full of life—were overflowing with tears. They streamed down her cheeks endlessly, like a river that refused to stop.
For a moment, I couldn't move.
I had not seen her cry like this in years.
Not since she was a child.
"Angel, what's wrong?" I asked quickly, my voice filled with concern.
But she didn't answer.
She just broke.
A sob escaped her lips, deep and painful, as if it had been trapped inside her for too long.
Without another word, I pulled her inside.
---
We sat on the couch, and she collapsed against me, crying into my shoulder.
Her body trembled with every sob.
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, one hand gently rubbing her back, the other holding her close—as if I could somehow shield her from whatever pain she was carrying.
"It's okay… it's okay…" I whispered softly.
But I knew it wasn't.
Not really.
Minutes passed.
Slowly, her cries began to quiet, fading into soft, uneven breaths.
When she finally pulled away, her face was tear-streaked, her eyes swollen and red.
I stood and brought her a glass of cold water.
"Drink," I said gently.
She nodded and took it with shaky hands.
I watched her closely.
"Angel… talk to me," I said softly, sitting beside her again. "Why are you crying?"
She hesitated.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
Then she spoke.
"I came to say goodbye…"
The words were quiet.
Almost too quiet.
My heart skipped.
"Goodbye?" I repeated, frowning slightly. "What do you mean? Are you traveling somewhere?"
She shook her head.
"No… not like that."
Something in her tone made my chest tighten.
The word last echoed in my mind.
A cold fear crept in.
"Inna…" I said, my voice softer now, careful. "What are you trying to say?"
She looked at me.
And in her eyes—I saw it.
Pain.
Hopelessness.
Defeat.
"I don't want to live anymore," she whispered.
The world around me seemed to stop.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
She continued, her voice breaking as she spoke about how she felt—like a burden, like a curse, like someone who didn't belong in the world she loved so much.
Each word pierced my heart.
"My child…" I whispered, reaching for her hands.
I held them firmly.
"Listen to me."
My voice was gentle—but steady.
"You are not a curse."
I lifted her chin slightly so she could look at me.
"You are a gift."
Her eyes trembled.
"Children are gifts from God, Angel. No matter what you are going through, that truth does not change."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"Life…" I continued softly, "life is not easy. It rises and falls. There will be moments that try to break you… moments that make you question everything."
I paused, searching her eyes.
"But success does not come easily. It is not handed to us on a silver platter. If you truly want the life you dream of—you must fight for it."
She listened.
Really listened.
"This world…" I said quietly, "is full of people who will judge you. Some will try to encourage you… but others will try to break you. And some…" I exhaled softly, "…some will try to destroy your spirit completely."
Her grip on my hand tightened.
"But you must decide who you will be," I said firmly.
"Will you become what they say you are… or will you rise above it?"
Silence filled the room.
But this time—it felt different.
Not empty.
Not heavy.
But… shifting.
Changing.
Slowly, I saw something return to her eyes.
A spark.
Small.
But there.
"I don't want to give up," she whispered.
Relief washed over me so deeply I nearly closed my eyes.
"Then don't," I said gently. "This is not your end. This is your beginning."
---
We prayed together.
Not long.
Not loud.
But deeply.
For strength.
For clarity.
For her future.
When we were done, I made sure that everything she had brought with her—everything tied to that dark moment—was taken away and dealt with safely.
Then I turned back to her.
She looked different now.
Not completely healed.
But no longer lost.
"I promise," she said softly, her voice steady despite the tears still clinging to her lashes.
"No matter what life throws at me… I will not give up."
A small smile touched my lips.
"That is all you need," I replied.
She lifted her head slightly.
"I will achieve my dreams," she continued. "Liberia will become a paradise… and I will lead it."
And for the first time that evening—
I believed her even more than before.