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Trip was a dangerous man, as is any man on a mission from God. He was filled with righteous anger and single-mindedly bent on dispensing justice to the wicked. He was no saint himself, and he knew it, but it didn't take a saint, to know right from wrong. His heart was his compass, and it was leading him to a place where he could find forgiveness for the blood on his soul.
Mickey had an appetite for blood. From its silky texture to its coppery taste, he knew its flavor intimately. His palette was finely tuned to weed the good from the bad, the infected from the pure. He was looking for just the right girl, a girl untainted and unspoiled, in a world where innocence was all but lost. His own purity and innocence was not in question. Those facts were as certain as his sanity, and nothing was going to stand between him and the girl of his dreams.
Jenny was a regular girl. She was living a regular life. There was nothing strange or abnormal about anything she did. She liked Hannah Montana, Miranda Cosgrove, and Taylor Swift. She loved her mom and dad, and her grandparents too. She was kind and respectful and considerate of others. She was innocent and pure and completely naïvebut all that was before she found the head before her very mind began to unravel.
The truth is never black or white.
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