"I'm not drunk. Come on. Yes, or no?"I know she was sending painfully obvious signals, but that didn't stop me from feeling conflicted. She was young,...and probably more drunk than she let on. She was my daughter's best friend. With her standing in my bedroom half-dressed, I was having trouble balancing the scale, though.While I pondered what to say, she grinned and walked backwards toward my bed. Once she reached it, she climbed in and knelt on the mattress, facing me. Every thought in my head. " If Wil can look like he feels he's being punished for even a day it may be enough. It's a lie, I suppose..." Call it a subterfuge," she responded, "a bluff. Anyway, bringing Ingrid in to seal the deal was genius. I hadn't even thought to talk with her, let alone get her involved. If we'd done it my way poor Wil really would have thought he was being punished. Walking the halls naked and alone his classmates would have ragged on him mercilessly. Which would be terrible for him, and might not. “Yes, I’m well-aware. The congregation is well-aware. The reapers will get into action soon enough, and trust me, they don’t fail. If you doubt me, look up the case of a missing man known as James Adams. He violated our trust in a very grave and grievous way, and let’s just say, if there is a Hell, it can’t be hot enough where I’m concerned. I’m far from the only member with such sentiments. In fact, they’re basically universal. He is even loathed by his surviving sister, Jessica, who is still. I almost stopped then and there, my heart almost bursting out of me when I realized that it would not be him inside. It was not “safe” anymore, but maybe dangerous and that thought seemed to arouse me even more so now that there was an element of danger to it. My hand on the door, there was a two-inch gap between the door and the other closed door and still not knowing if I was going to go through with this, I felt another hand, large and warm cover my hand. I stilled and my breath caught in.
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