Motivated by an increasing sense of urgency to rescue Sheryl, Faye quickened her pace as much as her painful knees would allow. Heroically, she was willing to accept a little more arthritic pain if it meant she could prevent any further physical or emotional injury to the girl who probably didn’t understand the depth of the dangers she was facing. She tightened her grip on her cane as she tried to ignore her knees that were imploring her to stop this torturous trek. In her mind, she wondered if she would need to use her faithful cane as a weapon to save her young fellow church member from the White boy who seemed destined to follow in his father’s murderous footsteps.
At that moment, Faye saw herself as the self-appointed super-heroine with a cane and sore knees. She summoned the resolve that she inherited from long since departed ancestors who also had to fight injustice to protect their own children. Her righteous anger surpassed her sixty plus years on this earth and encompassed the mistreatment of her people through many generations. Swept up by her surging adrenalin and propelled forward by her ignited passion to stand up for another potential victim with Black skin, Faye focused all of her attention on the White boy just a few steps ahead. With her heart racing, her skin prickling with goose bumps of excitement and her body tricked into thinking it was twenties years younger, Faye was determined to let nothing stop her. She mentally encouraged herself to accept nothing short of victory. “I am an on fire for the Lord Christian who is on a mission and I will not be deterred!” For the moment at least, Faye accepted that she would have to settle for a temporary setback. Her intended triumphant confrontation was halted by something she did not expect. Seemingly out of nowhere, Thomas managed to pull out an intimidating looking revolver and point it at Faye’s head.
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