I crawled off that blood-stained stone floor because my body simply refused to die. My legs were shaking so hard I could barely stand, my hands fumbling with the torn, ruined remnants of my clothes. I shoved myself back into the damp hoodie, the fabric dragging against the sticky warmth of the pastor's blood on my skin.
The silver rosary Augustino had slung around my neck swung heavily, the metal crucifix cold against my collarbone. I didn't take it off. I couldn't think. I was operating entirely on a hollowed-out, primal autopilot. I followed behind him out of that church because, God help me, it was the only choice left for me. The world outside had completely vanished; there was no police station to run to, no safe house, no hidden corner of the earth that his shadow couldn't reach. H
