a sharp contrast to her tumultuous life. Each step weighed as much as her walk as she thought about the past, and the cold gale seemed to remind her of her failures. The transaction with

le, to believe in do-overs, in salvation. But the hurt in her heart was too fresh, the betrayal too recent.

he once knew sanctuary of warm light and soothing hymns-where, many years before, a man named Jonathan had given her hope. B

nts of lingering souls. Moonlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting a rainbow of hues on the pew

heart beat with defiance as she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Every step groan

back of the chu

- gentlee eyes which had once promised a life without pain, a smile that had once lightened the darkest corners of her heart. But when sh

s face was etched with worry. "Melinda," he began softly, his voice filled with the warm

ht they'd met in this church for the very first time, when Jonathan had touched her with kindness in a wor

y. "I'm not here for your pity, Jonathan," she said, speaking l

n pleas. "Mel, I'm not asking for pity-just a chance to help," he said gently, stepping f

nity, the dreams, the very hope she once had. "Free of this torment?" she repeated bitterly. "You do not have an

urt, Melinda. I know you've had things done to you that no one should ev

fairy tales, Jonathan. But I'm not a character in you

earts seemed like a drum. Jonathan stepped forward once more, his hand outstretched, but she recoiled as if burned.

s naked. "You're not as alone as you think you are. L

I've made too many mistakes. I've sold myself to everyone who wanted

er the girl who had visions, who dreamed that compassion had the power to change the world

I'm not that girl anymore, Jonathan. I don't need to be rescued. I'm

ybe you just need to try. Even if you think you're too far along,

instant, she was silent, caught between the shards of the past and the cruel reality of her present. The harsh reality was that she did not fe

ith rage and desperation. "I don't believe in second chances, mira

s. "I wish you could see that you deserve more," he breathed, hi

m light mingled with the shadows. "Leave me alone," she whispered, not quite loud enough

he pews saw the war that was within and of the fight between a spirit grasping

I will not abandon you, Melinda. Regardless of any

. The streetlight cast a shadow on the wet sidewalk, casting the shattered pieces of her life. And in that moment, she made a choice-a choice t

ys, Melinda moved away from the church. The hope of rescue, of an existence beyond th

Jonathan. She could not allow him to see ev

tion. The memory of that gentle voice, of when she could have believed in second

ms-no matter the cost, even if it was never to allow anyone to truly see her, save her. Because in her heart, she

into the doubtful light of dawn, and out of the church shelter and the ho