The fever has worsened. My nights are restless. I keep waking up every few hours, sweaty and cold. Yesterday, my sister told me I was thrashing in my sleep, and that the fever had made me delirious.
I feel every inch of my body burning. And yet there is a deathly cold inside of me. My bones feel like metal rods. I can barely move. I can’t swallow anything. The last few weeks have been nothing but torment.
The only thought on my mind: When will all this end?
I can hear the people surrounding my home. Whispers are being passed around. “He’s not going to make it.”
“The fever is far too strong.”
Then, another voice. My sister’s.
“I thought he would come.”
Yes. I had thought so too. I thought by now, surely, He would have come to see me.
How could he not?
A sudden bout of coughing. I can feel my insides ache. I can barely keep my eyes open. I allow sleep to take over me. Restless as it is, it is my only brief escape.
“He will remember… he will come.”
Darkness. Total darkness. I can’t feel anything. I can’t hear anything. I feel like I’m slipping away into a very, very deep sleep.
I wake up with a start.
I don’t know how much time has passed. It is cold all around me but on the inside, I feel warm. I hear the sound of my heavy breathing. And then a rumbling sound all around me.
I hear someone calling my name. I try to open my eyes, but it feels as if I’m trying to lift a hundred kilograms with my eyelids. I try to move my arms and fail. Panic grips me. Where am I?
“Lazarus, come out!”
That same voice. Wait… I know that voice. With renewed vigor, I lift myself up and move toward the faint light I can see. Feeling along the stone walls for support, I make it to the entrance.
“Take off his grave clothes!”
And there He stands. The one I’ve waited for.
His face is wet with tears. And as He smiles at me, I feel every part of my body fill up with warmth. I know this man.
I knew that he would remember.
“Jesus, I knew you would come.”
– Prakruthi Angelina