Everything, I mean everything hurts. Especially my back. I groan and turn to my side, my eyes peaking open to see just where I am. Stone walls, kerosine lamps. I'm definitely not in the pit. My ears perk up when I hear people talking, a man. I look around more, stained glass reflecting down the art depicting Christ. So the man is probably a Priest. A woman, older, a nun. And then another voice, small and delicate. Younger. "God doesn't see the color of someone's flag." The younger voice.
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