Downtown, I was able to find a church devoted specifically to my Lady with her fiery heart. Although there were few people out at the hour that I was, the church was open. Churches were always welcoming to anyone-even for serial killers such as me.

On the outside, the church fit right in with the squalid surroundings. The paint had been stripped, revealing cement walls covered in years of moss and mildew. Yet on the inside, it seemed to come from a different world entirely. There were two main rows of pews with adjoining side wings as well. The carpet was a royal peacock blue and golden pillars of candles wanted to reach to Heaven. In the very front of the church was the altar below an enormous crucifix of Jesus Christ, displayed at His final hour of passion. I must have been the only X5 who used the words "Jesus Christ" for something other than swearing when knee deep in shit.

Quickly, I scanned around the candle lit church with shadows of the same spawn as I. All the pews were empty, which pleased me. My barcode was in plain view, and I didn't care at the moment though. I, unlike the remaining X5s who concealed their barcodes or burned them off, brandished mine proudly. It was a symbol of who I really was. What I really was.

The reason, though, that I was glad to see the empty church was so that the Lady and I could be alone together. No one understood what special connection we had; they never would anyhow. Only She understood. Only I understood.

Far, in the west wing, there was a statue of Her. She stood on a pedestal, which made Her several inches taller than I was. Around Her feet were the poisonous snakes of which I was not afraid. They would never dare to harm me as Her most loyal follower. Curving around the bottom of the snakes were double rows of candles encased in majestic purple glass.

Carefully, avoiding the kneeler in front of Her, I pulled out the bag containing Carlos' teeth. The bag, made of canvas, was now stained red with the blood that had seeped through. Gently, I laid the bag down at Her feet, then knelt on the cushions that had been prepared especially for people such as me.

I didn't say anything for a moment, but knelt, with my head buried in my clasped hands, trying to sort out the tumbled feelings running amuck in my mind. I could hear nothing else besides the pounding pulse in my ears. Blood, either mine or Carlos', was caked around my cuticles, while I could feel a dark bruise forming around my throat where he had tried to kill me. Tried. He had come to the closest to killing me that anyone ever had. A pity that he had to die so soon. I would forever lament his death as one of victory.

Finally, I spoke. My voice was raspy, and it took several times of coughing and gagging before I could speak clearly. Surprisingly, I hacked up blood, mixed with slimy phlegm, onto my coat sleeve, and I was unsure as to whose it really was.

"My Lady," I began in a perfectly annunciated voice, which echoed throughout the great building. Although, I would never whisper to Her, I assumed it best to tone down a decibel or so that others of a different immortal existence would not interfere with my talking.

"My Lady, I come to you, again, so that you may fight the anomalies." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "Why? What do I do wrong?" I asked, almost hissing in anger as I pressed my raw teeth against my feel anguished knuckles. "I believe in you. What do I do wrong?…Protect me, and I promise to serve you with faith stronger than you have imagined." Then, with a curt Sign of the Cross that I assumed to be appropriate in a Christian church so that She would be pleased with me, I rose to my feet and hurried out of the church, leaving behind the bloody sack of teeth. Perhaps the police would find it later and attempt to use it as evidence, but, by that time, I would be gone. The police could never catch the devil in his works. The police could never catch me in my works.

I ran out of the church, slamming the heavy door behind me so that the sound echoed throughout the entire desolate building. Dashing down the almost deserted streets, I bumped into a few people, but never bothered to apologize. Seeing their faces told me how wretched I looked; a mirror may lie to you, but the expressions on others' faces never will. My hair was matted against my head, blood smeared over my body, and eyes sunk deep into my skull.

My heavy black boots thudded against the sidewalk, while my lungs burned fiercely, causing breathing to become more and more difficult. Occasionally, I would wipe at my nose that was running as tears began to sting in my blue eyes. Choking and gasping, I managed to make it home, while the sound of my own voice seemed imprisoned in my body.

Arriving back at the place I called home, I threw myself onto the hammock, sobbing like I knew I would. God, it was torture, pure and utter torture. I knew that killing people was wrong. Constantly taking human life, why did I do it? Why?

I attempted to push myself back up so that I could quit sniveling and try to start packing, but my arms gave way, and I collapsed right back down into the hammock. Tears fell down my face, smearing the blood across my hands so that it stained my face when I tried to wipe away the tears. Pretty soon I was coughing and crying, feeling warm mucus rise in the back of my throat, while sniffing and wiping at my dribbling nose. My entire skinny body shook like it was being racked by a violent tornado, while my chest heaved, and my voice escaped from its dungeon. I let loose one monstrous bellow, clawing at my face, then inhaled deeply, trying to push it all away with what little strength I had at that moment.

In the distance of my mind, between the wailing, I could hear a storm approaching. The thunder rumbled in the distance, building density and destruction. It was so close, but remained at enough of a range that it could be ignored with ease. I propelled it away and cried until I was hollow and nauseated on the inside. My cries faded away into moans, and from there, came sleep.