The church was dark. Empty. Foreboding, to those who feared a god. Donnie wasn't sure how he ended up sitting in the front pew with a cross necklace in his hands, but here he was. Praying. To whomever might hear.

In churches there was always a feeling of being watched. Whether it was your god staring down at you in contempt or a judging aunt who was never quite happy with how your mother raised you.

Either way, here Donnie was. Staring down at the floor, at 2am.