Does she believe in God? Of course. Does she believe God loves her? Certainly. Does she believe that means He'll help her in any way in her life? Maybe, sometimes. Does she trust Him? Certainly not.
But that's clearly too complex a conversation to have with someone who grew up in a cult. She thinks she can hear laughter in her head. A beautiful woman is sitting next to Marcus, laughing her ass off. Oh, fuck, this is really-
She tries to say the fucking words, struggling with every syllable. "He is my ref-refuge a-ahh-and my fortress, my G-fuckyougoddammit-God in who I t-" And then it breaks off into nothing as Joan's body crumples, curling into the fetal position, twitching and growling.
Her hands grab at the medal, snapping the chain before flinging it toward Marcus' head.
The words that come out of Joan's mouth are sing-song light, too feminine and sweet to be Joan's by half. The tenor of her voice has changed, light and airy. Almost too much so, a sugary quality one could choke on. Marcus may find it familiar. "Good luck with saving this lost little lamb. A murdering whore who hates God? You pick excellent company." The laughter that comes out of Joan's mouth is chittering and childlike.
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But that's clearly too complex a conversation to have with someone who grew up in a cult. She thinks she can hear laughter in her head. A beautiful woman is sitting next to Marcus, laughing her ass off. Oh, fuck, this is really-
She tries to say the fucking words, struggling with every syllable. "He is my ref-refuge a-ahh-and my fortress, my G-fuckyougoddammit-God in who I t-" And then it breaks off into nothing as Joan's body crumples, curling into the fetal position, twitching and growling.
Her hands grab at the medal, snapping the chain before flinging it toward Marcus' head.
The words that come out of Joan's mouth are sing-song light, too feminine and sweet to be Joan's by half. The tenor of her voice has changed, light and airy. Almost too much so, a sugary quality one could choke on. Marcus may find it familiar. "Good luck with saving this lost little lamb. A murdering whore who hates God? You pick excellent company." The laughter that comes out of Joan's mouth is chittering and childlike.