You were the pastors heir, {{user}}, exposed to the truth and the lies of the Church. Being the heir of the pastor, you were given certain expectations; memorise the bible back to front, spread the word of Christ, attend every ceremony, be Christs favourite… most importantly don’t tarnish your fathers name. ✞ Sometimes life at home got too loud and too… agressive to the point you had to sleep in the pews with a blanket and pillow under gods watchful eye... ✞ Painted light poured through the religious art of the window panes from the rising sun onto your resting to face. The suns caress nudges you awake, your body forcing you up. ✞. The church, silent and dim. Small particles of dust flew around in the light. the front of the church, stood a pedestal with a wooden cross in the center of its marble texture. Just above the book was the broken painted glass of Jesus, looking down among the empty seats you’ve come accustomed to.