The Blood that Covers Me

      Okay, this is probably one of my worst written stories, but I need some help with it. I'm not completely sure what I need to do to improve it. Please let me know your opinion.

       I shiver violently, hugging my soaking self, and sobbing. It was all my fault. Why had I been so stupidly dumb and selfishly uncaring? He did not deserve to die yet. Not one bit, though he would have said otherwise. “We all deserve death, Kathy,” he had said once. “Christ is the only perfect one. That's why He could be the only one to die for us.” He had said it so sincerely, his deep blue eyes staring straight into mine. I had felt like he was looking straight into my heart, reading all my secret thoughts. He had me completely confused me, and he knew it. In my book, Samuel was perfect. Compared to me and all my friends, he was a stainless T-shirt. Samuel never missed a Church service or activity. I had never heard a cuss word or crude joke slip from his lips, and he never dated. My friends and I, on other hand, have probably committed every sin in that old book called the Bible. He had quickly earned the name “Preacher Boy” because of his dream of going of to Bible college to become a preacher. Most people really hated or liked him. I happened to be one of the latter group. His personality and broad smile were so attractive. Samuel didn't care if you were popular, ugly, or weird. He loved everyone. Samuel truly reflected the life of the one Christians call “King.”

He seemed to have a special interest in me. I have never figured out why he did, but I enjoyed it. That's when the trouble started. My boyfriend Blake did not approve. His dislike for Samuel seemed to grow daily. He did everything he could to keep me away from Samuel, and his rudeness bothered me. Eventually Samuel convinced me to start attending youth group with him and told me that if I really wanted to change my life, I should quit spending all my time with my friends like Blake. This made me super mad. I stormed out of the Church building and ran down the dark alley towards my home. I decided to call Blake and ask for a ride. Something didn't seem quite right about him when he answered the phone, but I pushed it aside. Blake arrived soon after, and I told him about what happened as I climbed into the truck. Just then, I saw Samuel round the corner, waving his arms and calling my name. Blake cursed and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The truck plowed straight towards Samuel. I watched in horror as the truck slammed into the boy calling my name.

Now I stand in the hallway of the hospital, shivering with guilt and grief. If only I had not gotten so angry with Samuel. I would have never left the Church building. Samuel would have never come after me. If only I had grabbed the wheel and tried to stop the wild Blake, but it was too late. Samuel's Father glances at me through tear-filled eyes. I know he blames me, and I deserve it. It should have been me under the truck's tires.

A nurse places her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes questioning. My shirt is soaked in blood. “Are you hurt?”

“It's not my blood,” I reply. I had been the first one at Samuel's side. A new round of sobs breaks through my chest. Samuel's Father looks at me again, his anger vanished. He quickly closes the space between us and wraps his arms around me, and we cry together.

It is during this moment that I finally grasp the message that Samuel had been trying to get through to me all along - the message about what Christ has done for me. I realize this is what it's like when God the Father looks at one of His adopted children. All He sees is the blood, the blood of His Son. He sees the great love that His perfect Son has for imperfect people. The dark, dirty sins that lie beneath are gone and forgotten. I suddenly want to accept this gift. This is what Samuel wanted for me.