"So tell me why my gods look like you, and tell me why it's wrong."
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The thirty-one-year-old half-sister of the newly acquired Seattle Grace surgeon Callie Torres, has been put through hell and back throughout her life. Not once did she get the cha...
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TW // RELIGIOUS TRAUMA, CANNIBALISM
"Erwyna felt happy that someone saw through the mask but all she wanted was for him to see it again."
"And I ate the stew."
~~~
"Gay girls know where it is."
That's what Erwyna had always been told by friends, family, even by a priest once. In his words, she "must have girls lining up at [her] feet," though I think it's important to note that that priest was a Catholic priest Erwyna ran into at a lesbian bar.
He had been arrested on charges of sexual harassment and sexual assault.
Thankfully, Erwyna never attended his parish or got close enough to become one of his victims, but she always wondered what the hell he was talking about. He had such a presence about him that screamed to her that she could trust him.
But Erwyna Torres neverlistened to her gut.
It was wrong more times than not about everything. It was wrong when it told her to trust that her mother would be fine when she came back from Italy, when it told her that she would be okay, and when it told her that she should go to church.
Erwyna never went to church, and she never planned to change that.
She had been crucified for her sins and left up high for dead, and the very person who saved her was also the same person who put her up there.
As she sat at her desk, not a moment went by where Erwyna didn't wonder if her church had excommunicated her without telling her. After all, she hadn't been inside a church in over a year, not since she buried her mother.
663 days out the slammer.
Erwyna was ripped from her thoughts as Penelope walked in, with Derek greeting her. "Good morning, princess."
"Good morning," Penelope swiftly reciprocated the greeting before attempting to walk off before Derek stopped her.
"Pump your brakes," Derek demanded, causing Penelope to stop in her tracks. He gestured with his finger for her to come back. "Every day, I say, "Good morning," and you say, "I'll show you a good morning, hot stuff." Every day. But not today?"
"I hate profilers. Do you know that?"
Derek smiled knowingly at Penelope as he disregarded her most previous comment. "Spit it out."
