I put Susan on the altar and said, “She’ll be safe. I promise.” She nodded at me, her body jerking and twisting in convulsions, forcing moans of pain from her lips. She looked terrified, but she nodded. I put my left hand over her eyes. I pressed my mouth to hers, swiftly, gently, tasting the blood, and her tears, and mine. I saw her lips form the word, “Maggie . . .” And I . . . I used the knife. I saved a child. I won a war. God forgive me.
