"Because we once were," Victoria said, "We could just be—" she tried to think of the words, "—shadows of our former selves. We know what we know because we once lived and now we are just pretending to be what we are." But she didn't sound sure of it. Her eyes followed Ambriel instead and she clutched the box closer to her, as if she were afraid he would think what she said was true and take it away from her. It was a symbol of her faith. It hurt her. But she couldn't part with it. Not yet.
She spoke again, "Where might I go and worship Him?" She took a few steps forward now. She had no intentions of stepping into the church, should it lead to more pain and yet another denial. Victoria's hold on the box was still firm, "Where can I confess? Where can I pray and he might hear me?" Her questions were genuine, because she saw Ambriel as he was. An angel.
It would at least give her something to hold onto. Perhaps something to believe in and hope for, even if she felt deep down that she needed to start breaking away instead of clinging on.