Waterline
It was the night Julie put a dead nun in my bed, set fire to her, and burned down the convent, killing everyone inside. She told me: “When they pull that body from your bed, and it’s nothing but ash, they’ll think it’s you, and you can live the life you want.” And I guess she was right because no one has bothered me since. She called it “An act of love,” and I don’t doubt it because I know what it cost her, which is damn near everything, when, three months later, they sentenced her to death.
