12
Maggie moaned with relief in the dark kitchen as she removed the red hot crucifix from her thigh. She'd thought the pain might become easier to take with successive burns, but this had been the worst. And the day-long anticipation of the coming agony had been almost as bad as the pain itself.
Five now. Only two more to go. Another on Friday, and then the final—fittingly—on Sunday, the Lord's Day.
A different kind of pain pushed a sob past her throat. She looked down at her blistered thighs and prayed.
I'm doing this penance, Lord, not just for myself, but for Fina and others like her. I can make a difference in their lives, Lord. So please guide Jack. Let him destroy those pictures so that I can remain in Your service, and in service to Your children.
That's all I ask, Lord: To sin no more and be allowed to go on giving in Your name.