1
Appalachian Mountains, Kentucky, USA.
Lilith stepped over the threshold into the tiny church. The white walls were duller than she remembered, marred by time and stained by the breath of believers, reeking of tobacco and the residue of communion wine. It had been years since she had visited, but the smell of the place instantly took her back to her childhood. Back then, the Appalachian Pentecostal church had been her home, her escape, the only place where she felt part of something bigger in a miserable life of poverty.
She had come a long way since then.
Lilith wore a shapeless dress of muted color, the traditional style for women in these parts, having left her smart tailored clothes behind in the city. Her face was bare of makeup and her titian curls hung loose about her shoulders
