Scapegoat, Memoir Part Four


Hope was her constant companion through the bleak waltz of her young years. She was sure that it was, God, Himself, who put this unconquerable perseverance within her, because it was that which gave her the ability to continue her crawl through even the thickest sludge of despair.

Still, the path was dark, and seemed to have no end in sight. She trudged on, always looking ahead for even the smallest morsel of brightness that might encourage her forward; but the only bit of light that was even remotely visible was that which came from her undying hope. She knew that God had placed this illumination within, to will her on, because there was absolutely no trace of it, whatsoever, outside of herself.

Yet, even He, the Giver of her hope, faith, and perseverance was the chosen Scapegoat of her vile insults and fulminating rage, resulting from the scalding fury she harbored, due to her mother’s wickedness and cruelty. She wanted… no, she needed someone to pay, as she paid, day after day. There was no one who cared … no human being to hear her out. But, God was there.

Isaiah 53:5

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.
Scapegoat, Yancosky
Tamara Yancosky

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