She was almost convinced that the Reverend’s sermon on giving up one’s sins was directed at her; a Church service had never left her literally feeling the heat of the brimstone.
Heaving a sigh of relief at the end of mass she rushed to the bus-stop and boarded the city bus back home, tussling in her mind whether to continue going to Church or to give it a break for a while.
As the bus wove its way through the city, the first message came in.
Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead, her heart accelerated and she developed an urgent need to use the toilet when she stared at the undeniable photo of her finagling money from the Church till.
Every hour that passed was a stab of fear; messages promptly came in from the unknown number at the turn of each hour.