Charlie wasn't sure what led her into the church. She hadn't stepped foot in one in... well... she really didn't even want to think about how long it had been. She and God had a difficult relationship, to say the least. She blamed Him for everything that had happened to her in her youth and He, in return, had yet to see fit to prove her wrong. So Charlie had, at some point between the ages of seven when she lost her father and became an orphan, and nine, when she began living on her own on the streets, decided that the best way to deal with God was to simply pretend He wasn't even there.
As such, she didn't really celebrate Christmas, or Easter for that matter. She didn't donate when people came knocking, and she didn't even so much as glance at the Bible. She stayed away from God in every aspect she could imagine because thinking about Him made her think about her parents, and that was a pain she would rather do without.
Still, for all of her attempts to stay out of His 'house', Charlie found herself making her way inside this time. She hesitated at the doors, gaze flickering around to see who might be present. There was only one man as far as she could tell, and he seemed preoccupied. That, she supposed, was good because she wasn't about to stay. Something may have urged her to come inside, but it couldn't keep her here.
Turning to go, she would have made a clean getaway if not for the stranger's sudden roar. It caused her to flinch and, in that brief instant when she didn't have control over her own muscles, Charlie's hip smacked directly into the edge of the last pew. A loud thump sounded and she sucked in a sharp burst of air through clenched teeth. One hand went to the sore spot - a bruise was already forming, she was sure - and the other gripped the back of the wooden bench so she didn't fall right over onto the ground.
So much for making a clean getaway, was her only thought as she slowly turned her attention back to the man with an apologetic, halfway embarrassed, smile upon her fair features.