Misunderstood by Bernensky Pierre

He heedfully stared at her picking up the gifts he left on her doorstep. He was observing her with binoculars from afar in his car underneath the shadow of the tree, while he guzzled a large cup of coffee. She looked around, wondering who would do this. She brought it inside and came back outside and got the mail. She went back inside and he waited for her, knowing her schedule. Hours passed and there she appeared with tight ripped black jeans, a small grey shirt, and Black Flat Gladiator sandals. She got in her 2012 black Nissan Maxima and drove off. He followed her, keeping a great distance from her car. He knew that every Tuesday she was off and would meet with her friend to talk. For weeks he did this, every time he followed her to a new place.

This time it was the mall. He parked six spots away from her. He got out of the car contemplating on words and how to approach her. She walked in and walked to the other side of the mall, while he was steps behind her looking as customary as ever. Her friend was sitting on the bench and she sat next to her. He was standing nearby looking the other way, while his heart was infused with nervousness. Suddenly his heart comported, as his disposition changed.

He treaded to them. “Hey Natalie, did you receive my letters and gifts?”

She was confounded. “Yes, you’re very sweet,” she responded with a bit of sarcasm.

“Thank you,” he said. “Are you free tonight? I would like to take you out to dinner.”

“No,” she replied. “I’m seeing someone right now.”

He was mute with a stolid look on his face, but inside one could hear cracks of his heart take place. He nodded his head, turned his back, and walked to the bathroom. He smacked water upon his face and shook his head in disbelief. Meanwhile, the two girls were talking about what just happened. Natalie’s friend was disturbed by their conversation.

“Where do you know that guy from?” she inquired. “He sounded creepy.”

“I know him from high school and back then he had a crush on me,” Natalie responded. “I didn’t know he still liked me.”

“Be careful,” she sagaciously said. “He knows where you live.”

“He likes me, he wouldn’t hurt me,” Natalie lightheartedly said.

As they continued to communicate, he stormed out of the mall exuding anger. His heart was pounding with malice schemes. His anger continued to build, forgetting how much he loved her. He walked back and forth in front of the entrance.

“I’m done being a gentleman.”

He got into his car and sped to her home with an idea, a plan that only seemed sensible to him. He arrived at her home; parked under the same tree he was stalking her from for weeks. He got out, jumped the gate, and broke into the house from the backyard. He examined her home, and eventually he got to her room where he hid himself in the closet waiting for her to come home.

It was dawn and she finally came home. The front door woke him up and he got himself together for this moment. All he heard was her footsteps coming and his portentous heartbeat. She opened the door of her room, sat on the side of her bed, and started undressing herself.

“I’ve spent too much time on you for you not to love me,” he said, while he came out of the closet.

She screamed, but he quickly shut her up. He punched her, pinned her on the bed, and drove a pillow to her head to suffocate her. She was trying to fight him off, but his determination was stronger than her will.

“Since you are not going to love me, you are not going to love anybody,” he said in an irate voice.

All of a sudden, she stopped fighting. He continued to press down on her head, making sure she was out. She was dead and he finally removed the pillow from her head and he raped her. After, he took a couple of minutes to stare at her body with disdain. He stayed there.

A week passed by, it was reported that she had not been seen for days. Her parents and her close friend were worried about her. Her friend told the police of this strange guy that approached them that day they met at the mall. Finally, the police arrived at her home and kicked the front door open. As the police was looking around with their guns, he was lying with the corpse in bed. They got to her room, kicked the bedroom door down, and they saw him next to her. They pointed the gun at him.

“Lift up your hands,” the officer yelled.

He did so. “She deserved it, she never loved me back.”

6835adab19850550376f315dc4227cc6-d5ykipw.jpg

May 2014

My Story

 

2016-02-23_14.15.19[1]                            photo[1]               picture002[1].jpg

July 3, 2013 – March 28, 2014

Testimony (Bernensky Pierre)

It was Wednesday, July 3rd, 2013 and it was 2 in the morning. Doorbell rang, I answered, and I got the news that my father passed. For weeks, I was oppressed and did nothing about it. I sat in the dark and cried alone every day I woke up. Soon I thought I got over it and believed I was back on my two feet, but I really wasn’t (Occasionally depressed and discourage). Now since my father passed away, I really didn’t have anyone to talk to. I didn’t like talking to my mom about certain situations because I needed a man’s perspective on things. My brother was young and we didn’t talk about anything serious, so I replaced my father with lustful conversations. I thought this would be harmless, but it soon got out of hand. Lustful conversations turned into a desire for intercourse (Fornication). I believed this would help me get through the pain and grief of my father, but the pain only increased like water during a flood. I was looking for the solution through girls to fill a void, a space, which expanded as wide as a tropical rainforest. The void was love.

I recognized that this was a problem and did my best to stay away from fornication. I did my best, but my best wasn’t good enough like a good competitor against an unstoppable force. I felt like I was fighting something that I was never going to defeat. I always found myself committing the deed or resorting to the second option (masturbation). It was a sensation that only lasted a few minutes and it only assisted the pain, thoughts, and scars that came after my father’s death. I didn’t know why this was happening, it was hard to explain. I always had a thing for girls, but not like this. Every second and every minute I was thinking of how I was going to receive the pleasure that would never fill me up. This desire was after my well-being like a cheetah preying on baby calf. This was an addiction, I needed help like a patient having trouble to breath. I continued to fight those nagging thoughts that said, “Call her back, she’s willing to give it up”, but those thoughts were too overwhelming. The images in my head were even worse, pornography. Sometimes, I went long stretches where I found myself free, but I really wasn’t. The girls I was dealing with were just like me, no father. My mind soon became accustom to that sin and I always felt guilty because it was one thing for me to know that I was going to hell for what I was doing, but to also realize that I was bringing someone along with me.

I went days struggling with this situation, until my childhood friend, Jacques, told me to come to a House of Peace in North Miami in October of 2013. He invited me before, but I always canceled on him. I wanted to go because he made it sound interesting. I also had the problem that was kicking my butt every day, so I decided to go. I went and there I saw teenagers, just like me. He told me that this was a place where teenagers and young adults come together and pray and worship God. I got there early and nothing was happening because it didn’t start. I had Goosebumps because I didn’t know what to expect. Suddenly, they turned off all the lights, and then I heard music that I had never heard before. I drifted to a corner and I watched these teenagers cry out to God. They were crying, begging, and pleading to him, asking him to forgive them. I prayed for my situation before, but not like that. I usually gave God five minutes a day. This was for an hour and thirty minutes. I soon felt comfortable because I wasn’t the only one that had a problem. Everyone had a problem, but unlike me they brought it before God. I said to myself, “I want to be like them.” That night I prayed the longest of my life. I told myself, “No more playing around, it’s time to change.” After that night, I thought everything was going to change like a full transformation. I prayed every day after that, but found myself committing the deed again. I soon became discourage and had a thought that said, “I don’t deserve God and I shouldn’t pray because what’s the point when I’m going to do the wrong things anyway.” I stopped praying for myself and prayed for others that I thought were better than me. I lost hope and I quit, taking my life back into the shadows of depression.

Sometimes, I went to the House of Peace in North Miami, but I was never really in to it. I just lost belief in myself, but Jacques continued to communicate with me. One day, he told me that there was another House of Peace in Coconut Grove; this time it was a rented place. He told me this would be more epic than the one in North Miami and indeed it was. It was March 27, 2014 and there I saw a few people dancing, others in the corner praying. It was as if they were in a other world, another place, while they were dancing and praying. Their eyes were firmly shut as they moved to the rhythm of the songs that were being played. These people were so into it. I started to think about what I’ve been through throughout my life, the good and the bad. I was thinking about what was cool and what was not. I asked myself, “Why can’t I be like these people? They want to do good, but I struggle with the term.” As I thought about my life in the past, the lights were opened and it was time for the word, but first all new comers had to come up for prayer. I went up and they took all the new comers outside and they prayed for us. Before they prayed, there was this girl that told her testimony. She said she had cancer and as soon as those words came out of her mouth there was a pain that struck me in my heart. Meanwhile, she continued to explain how it disappeared because of God. One night, she came to this House of Peace. She wasn’t a believer, but when they were praying for her she felt a fire inside of her. Couple of days later, she went to the doctor and they were astounded when they gave her the news that her cancer was gone. When she initiated the story with “I had cancer” I almost started to cry like all those days I was in my dark room crying over my father’s death because my father died of cancer. That testimony made me believe again and I thought if God can do that for her than he can turn my problems into cake. All of sudden, I had a desire to be with God and the next day I confirmed it at King Jesus Ministries on March 28, 2014.

20151231_221426[1].jpg          20151223_235711[1].jpg        IMG-20160207-WA0002[1]