"What's the worst thing you ever done in a Church, Sunshine?"

I looked at Beloved, I shrugged, although goosepimples and ice water prickled my body. "I killed a pigeon once."

"What?" Beloved laughed, his mouth pulled, his cheeks puffed and he pinched one lens of his glasses, pulling them up his face. "You're kidding."

"Nope," I said and I walked away from him, my arms clasped behind my back and I looked back and forth, up and down, and touched the smooth paint of the white-washed pews. "I killed it dead."

"WHY?" Beloved was still smiling, I did not have to turn around to see it, I could hear the glee dripping from his words.

I looked up at the high ceiling, imagining the sound of a cooing pigeon, of holding its fat body in my hands and wringing the life from it. I'd never done any such thing. I'd never even seen such a thing. I swallowed hard and stopped walking. "I wanted to end its misery."

"Oh yea?"

I turned around, Beloved was walking towards me, grinning, grinning, grinning.

"Yeah, its wing was broken. So I stomped on it."

Beloved raised his eyebrows and rubbed his pale hands together. I could see sweat at the base of his neck, it was forming small circles under his armpits and I lowered my gaze to my feet.

"Are you lying to me, Sunshine?" He asked.

"Nope," I replied, pursing my lips.

"That's amazing," he whispered.

I smiled back at him.

He always loved the worst stories. Dead baby tales, dead animals, suffering things. Oh so amazing. All so beautiful. The more macabre the better. He wrapped his arms around me and called me a brave little girl.

Death was what made him a better Preacher I guess.