𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑾𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑺 /𝑗𝑗 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑘

𝟎𝟐𝟒.

___________________
𝑾𝑨𝑺𝑷𝑺
𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜，𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑑𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑒
𝟎𝟎:𝟎𝟎 — 𝟔:𝟏𝟐
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IT'S KIND OF FUNNY how everything can go from mundane to catastrophic in a matter of mere seconds. Life is so fragile, and most of the time we walk this Earth completely oblivious to the dangers that lurk around every corner. I often find myself contemplating the multitude of ways one could meet their end without warning. A careless driver careening down the street could take you out with a single misjudged turn. A seemingly innocent meal could turn deadly if it's improperly prepared. You could suffer a fatal allergic reaction to an unseen trigger.

Heck, you could even be struck by something as innocuous as a potted plant that tumbles off a windowsill and crashes down on your head. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. What's so unsettling is that we never really know when our last moments are going to be.

I think that's what must be racing through Pope's mind as he sees his life flash before his eyes the moment he realizes the cross is plummeting toward us from its precarious perch on the beams above. It all happens in a heartbeat.

Luckily, we've caught on just in time. With adrenaline surging through my veins, I watch as Pope rolls to the side on the filthy wooden floor, instinct kicking in to get out of harm's way.

We scramble back, wide-eyed, as the cross crashes down exactly where he'd been a heartbeat ago, landing with a deafening metallic thud that reverberates through the church.

I can barely hear the gasps of the girls across the room, gripping the wall as they try to put as much distance between themselves and the cross as possible. My heart races, pounding like a war drum in my chest, and my ears ring, drowning out most of the chaos around me. All I can think is how lucky we are that nobody got hurt.

My gaze snaps to Pope, who is curled up on the floor, bent over as he cradles his head in his hands. Panic surges through me, and without thinking, I rush over to him, grabbing his shoulder and gently coaxing him to lie back. "Pope, are you okay? Are you hurt?" My hands tremble as I press my fingers against his cheeks, searching for any injuries.

JJ and John B drop to their knees beside me, their apprehensive expressions mirroring my own as they ask the same questions, their hands roaming over Pope's body to search for wounds.

Pope shakes his head, his eyes shut tight as he curls into himself, as if trying to find safety within the confines of his own body. "I'm good. Just give me... like... one second to... like... catch my breath." he stammers, his voice shaky and strained.

A wave of relief washes over me as I see he's okay—mostly. I smile softly, patting his shoulder, before joining the rest of the group, cautiously stepping closer to the fallen cross.

"You did it, Pope." John B says, a proud grin spreading across his face as he gazes at the golden relic.

JJ wraps his hands around the cross, caressing it reverently as if it were the most precious thing on Earth. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he murmurs, "Pope, she's... she's beautiful."