"I find it hard to trust the others of my religion," Mary admitted. "When I was alive there was a man I considered to be like a brother to me. He was one of the few following Jesus that treated me as though I belonged there. We would talk for hours into the night while the fire burned down to ashes beside us." She frowned. "But then... he betrayed us. He betrayed me."

With a sigh she reached for her drink. "I can't trust those that are created by the belief of my church, because I can't trust my church. It's a hateful despicable creation that twists love into hate and turns people against each other. So while some of them I care deeply about, but there will always be some level of distrust there."