“I love him so much,” I whisper, rain running off my head and down to my lips, where the drops fall along with my words to the mud and grass below. “And it hurts and I want it to stop. Please, Lord. If you love me, make it stop.”
YOU! SHOULDN'T! HAVE! LEFT! HIM! TO! BECOME! A! MONK!!!
ARE YOU BEING DELIBERATELY THICK?!?!?!
