I glanced up with reddish, itchy eyes...my mascara ran track with my tears, replenished by the salt, vindicated by the opposition of the memory...

Of  when my own husband tried to kill me...

Luckily I made it to my kitchen and managed to grab a butcher knife and I cut that nigga up like Ragu.

I sat on my sofa in shambles until the cops arrived...

Pushing away the horrible memories, it took a moment, but I slowly stood up. The beauty of the expensively crafted chapel still failed to snub the evil that came with Byron. 

"I've survived ridicule and shame in my life. I've jumped over hurdles without track shoes...I've scored touchdowns without a football. I've lived and leatned..."

Little droplets of white foam coated the sides of my mouth. My heart quickened as I raised the barrier that seperated me from this grotesque monster.

My black veil.

"Pastor, I'm ready."