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I sucked in a bunch fun of air that tripped in my throat on its way down, and stared, eyes weighing a ton, at my embarrassed knees. I could tell they were embarrassed because they were naked in a House of God (Orthodox no less), and they were turning blotchy and red like they were crying, too. "I'm sorry," I repeated, as tears fun returned to threatening formation. "Take your time." "It's just -- I'm so fucking sad. I go to a counselor and all, but I, I fun feel like I need a religious thread to cling to. To belong to, damn it." My sentences now came in hiccupping waves, riddled with fabulous four-letter words. "I… I used to hear voices." Oh Jesus, here we go. "I don't any-anymore, but f-for half of my-my l-l-life, for HALF of my FUCKING life, I th-thought I heard the d-devil telling me that he-he-he wanted my soul. To s-s-sell my soul…." A short series of kck, kch, kckk noises followed on the heels of my verbal self-gutting.
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