What good are laws that cannot be read or understood, or a tongue that spews only hatred or ignorance? What good is the written word to an illiterate man?
Fear was a thing I understood all too well. It was a malignancy that had spread throughout my body until my mother, in her godly wisdom, had diagnosed and cauterized it.
Satan is not going to leave. The only way to get him out is to invite God in, and God is not welcome in my mother's house.
I touch my scar to remind myself that I am not a coward. I am a Quinn.
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