My legs feel unsteady and my thoughts worse as I move toward the door and ease it open. I retreat the moment he locks the door and steps forward.

He doesn’t stop. Step by step, he closes the distance, and I keep backing away until the wall presses cold against my spine, trapping me there.

I can only watch him now.

His face is set, hardened by years spent listening to sins and deciding what to do with them. A Bible and chaplet rest in one hand.

My breath breaks and I cover my face, a quiet sob slipping out before I can stop it.

This can’t be happening. If...