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a certain weight of sadness, of darkness. “He’s the one who killed Luke.”
    My head spins and I chuckle nervously. The only thing I can force myself to say is a simple ‘shut up’ as if I don’t believe him.
    He wedges the bolt from the broken deadbolt into a crack between the door and frame then shakes the door to make sure it won’t budge. “I lied last night when I said I arrived too late.” He refuses to face me as he speaks, and I’m stuck in between the two of them, still unsure which direction the truth will come from. “I was in my car waiting for him when I saw him exit the bar.” He turns around and paces toward the man lying on the floor, aiming a finger at him. “A second later, this man came up behind him and bashed him in the head with a brick.”
    “No, no, no,” the man stutters. “He’s lying,” he screams. “He’s lying!”
    Noah pulls his foot back and kicks the man in the stomach, causing him to cry out in pain. Causing me to flinch and back up against the wall, searching for a sense of safety or comfort in this nightmare. Noah bends down and grabs the gag that sits around the man’s chin and forces it back into his mouth.
    “If true,” I swallow a thick cluster of air, “why not let the police handle it?”
    “At first, I thought the police were just terrible at their jobs.” He grabs the back of the chair railing and wraps his other arm around the man. In one fast movement, Noah pulls the chair back into a sitting position. “Then I realized it was something else. This town is corrupt.”
    “I can’t be in here right now.” I turn to flee, placing my palm on the knob and forcing it open. The door swings and slams against the wall and I hear footsteps p adding after me. I rush faster, sweeping down the center aisle of the church and heading for the oversized, double doors. There are chains wrapped around the handles, explaining why I couldn’t get in earlier through the front doors. I spin around to find an alternate exit, but Noah is blocking my path.
    “I’m sorry you had to see that, but trust me when I say this is the only way.”
    “What are you hoping to gain?” I shake my head. “Justice?”
    “That’s a part of it, but…” He’s unable to look me in the eyes. Instead, he opts to stare at the floor—it’s less confrontational. “It’s mostly about revenge. If he doesn’t confess, he dies. A part of me is hoping that he doesn’t.”
    I reach for his face and make him face me—making him look at me while he says all of these monstrous things. Hoping somehow that I’m able to bring him back down to Earth. “You are not a monster.”
    “Newsflash, Faith. You don’t know me anymore.”
    I duck under his arm and tighten my fist. “No. That’s where you wrong. I know you too well.” I spin around to him. “This isn’t you.”
    “You need proof?” He asks before marching down the aisle and disappearing into the back room.
    I lean against a pew and wipe my palm across my face, then slick my fingers through my hair. The temperature of the thick air is spiking and I’m finding it increasingly hard to breathe. Sweat trickles down the side of my face.
    “Here’s your proof,” Noah yells, pushing the man down the center of the aisle and then finally, onto his knees. He crouches to the floor behind the man and reaches for the collar of the man’s t-shirt, ripping it down the center. Exposing long, bloody cuts trailing down his chest. “Is this proof enough?”
    I turn my head and look away as I try to focus on anything but this man knelt before me. There’s a rage building from within, the kind that is only matched by a conscience fortified by years of difficult choices—even when I didn’t make the right choices.

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FOUR YEARS AGO
    My naked legs dangle over the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth while the rest of my body—and mind—remain motionless. The nurse said the doctor would see me in a few minutes, but it’s been at least