Joanna

We reject the mainstream. We reject false speakers. We reject all false things.
We only accept Him.

The room breathes. It breathes with the hundreds of lungs of the congregation. It's quiet.
The bated breath of believers used to be the only air I breathed. They hold theirs- but mine
comes steady, comes slow, comes false.

Living in a cult makes it hard to think outside the box. But how can life go on when Joanna's gone?