I never believed much in a god, after my dad's death especially. But then I found her, and it was like I saw God in her face. She took me to church, on Wednesdays, sometimes Sundays. And we held hands through the service, so tight, I thought, the angels would have to tear us apart. I loved her so much, and I started to believe again. Then her pastor started to shout, words of negativity about our kind of love. My heart fell, for I could not believe a loving god would hate us just for that. I slowly drifted further from believing, and found something new. But I still went to church, and sat through the fire and brimstone services. Then one Sunday, as I got up to leave, she chased me into the bathroom. And what happened there, led me to never again go to church, as a believer.