She closed her eyes to prove to herself there was as much light behind her lids as keeping them open. Darkness surrounded her like an entity with cruel hands, reaching out. She had the sensation of falling backwards into never-ending night, and once again, she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
Unbidden, some memorized scripture from childhood days in Bible drills came to mind. Her leader had promised that verses her group worked so hard to recite would return when they needed them. Gratefully, she whispered bits of what she recalled of Psalm Fifty-Nine, turning the scripture into a prayer. “Deliver me—deliver me from my enemies, my God; protect me from those who rise up against me.”
She stopped, breathless, recalling only parts of it, but latching onto two words for dear life. “Deliver me—deliver me! Save me from men of bloodshed who ambush me.”
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