The humidity of the Belmont morning already clung to Zariah's skin, a second, unwelcome uniform. She wore a simple white tank top and faded denim shorts, the fabric already damp under the relentless sun. The memory of Johnny’s wide, concerned eyes, the way his knuckles had grazed her arm, still hummed beneath her sternum.
She pressed into the back seat of the shared maxi-taxi, the bass from the driver’s radio vibrating through the thin plastic. Diesel fumes mixed with the sharp scent of roti wrappers discarded on the floor. St. Joseph was a different world than the manicured streets of Woodbrook, older, the architecture heavier, whispering secrets in crumbling plaster.
The maxi hissed air as it braked near the junction. Zariah dropped onto the pavement, the heat radiating immediately through the soles of her sneakers. She had heard the whispers in the market: *Up by the old church, the barefoot woman was seen.*
The church stood on a gentle rise, limestone bleached white by a century of sun and rain.
A heavy wooden door, scarred and dark, stood ajar. She pushed through the gloom, the air inside cool and thick with the scent of old frankincense and dust.
Father Michael stood near the altar, a thin, stooped man in a simple white cassock. He was arranging wilting lilies, his movements slow and deliberate.
“Father,” Zariah’s voice was low, careful not to disturb the silence.
He turned, his face a map of deep lines, his eyes surprisingly bright. “Zariah. I expected you later.”
“The sooner I start, the sooner I finish.”
“The finishing is the easy part, child. It is the beginning that demands faith.” He placed a lily in the vase. “You are looking for the Cat.”
“I’m looking for truth.” She approached the altar rail, her hands gripping the cool, smooth wood. “They say she was here, yesterday, after dark.”
“A desperate creature seeks sanctuary where it finds it.” “She moved like a shadow, swift and in pain. She did not ask for healing for her flesh.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.
“She asked for forgiveness. Not for what she has done, but for what she must do.”
TIGER KITTEN- Test of a trini teen heroine-05:http://memberslogin.hipcomix.com/gallery3/index.php/Mitru/Tiger-Kitten/TESTS-OF-A-TRINI-TEEN-HEROINE
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