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Agatha crossed herself. "Child. Are you hurt?"
A girl sat in the rubble. A real girl, maybe five years old, with dirty straw hair and a cotton shift and hands that were simply hands. Her gray eyes blinked. They were no longer ancient. They were just tired.
"I know," Scarlet said. "I've always known. You didn't run to God. You ran from the police. And the peace you feel isn't grace. It's just the absence of fear." scarlet innocence movie
"Who are you?" Agatha whispered once, in the deep hour before matins.
A murderer. A liar. A woman who had smashed a demon's jar with her own two hands. Agatha crossed herself
The winter of Scarlet's tenth year, the convent fell sick.
She reached out. Her hand was small, warm, utterly human. She touched Agatha's cheek. A real girl, maybe five years old, with
"What are you?" Agatha whispered.