He was the minister to the church that had abused you for years, and he’d made oh so many changes so that no one would ever experience what you did. You grew up in the same town, he had convinced everyone that you were still perfect despite your flaws.

You had grown unable to live on your own, so he’d taken the initiative to take care of you and your mental health. You laid on the sofa in the main room, you head in his lap while he played with your hair.

“Honey,” He said in his deep, alluring voice. If he started preaching the word of God to you, you’d believe every word he said. “It’s time for you to eat, you didn’t have breakfast, you need something to eat.”