me-covered window near the ceiling. I used an old, rusty shovel head to chip away at the mortar around one of the foun

a hole just big enough to squeeze through. I crawled out into the cold

y shadow looking like a threat. My only destination

sk under a buzzing fluorescent light. His face lit

have you been? Your parent

reath, the story tumbling out of me in a frantic, jumb

e and more grim. He held my hands acros

oothing balm. "You're safe now. I w

id was a relief. He told me to rest my eyes for a minute while he made some calls, found a safe place for me to s

up with

sheriff's office. I was in the passenger seat of a pickup truc

head. Matthe

e was thick, my tongue clumsy. The w

nuckles were white on the ste

mumbled, his voice th

h. The big, imposing steeple was

horror dawning. "Matt

oice breaking. "Pastor Morris... he spoke to me. He said

own his face, bu

. You're destined for something greate

dy felt heavy, uncoordinated. He grabbe

it, Gabby. It

k doors swung open, and figures emerged from the shad

s of tears and twisted conviction. He handed me ove

side was his face, the face of the man I love