Steve sat in the back row on a metal folding chair in the basement of the church and listened to the man speaking talk about waking up next to a girlfriend who had overdosed. His stomach rolled in a shared feeling of relief that he’d never actually woken up to a corpse and horror at the destruction of his previous life. While he listened, he prayed. His prayer may not have had the physical release Harmony’s had, but the passion behind it was just as intense, regardless.
He wondered, questioned, analyzed, and still couldn’t make sense of what could cause someone to do this. The vandalism to his house could be explained by passion and heat-of-the-moment. The planning and execution that went into the notes and the attack on the church made no sense to his rational mind.
He knew that meant h
