Patrick tried to ignore the horrid cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, to no real avail.
Sarah was still oblivious to his discomfort. “So, why are we going up to this old church again?”
He sighed. “I told you, I wanted to show some of the old places around here.” She seemed content with that answer.

The great steeple loomed over their heads, sillohetted by the setting sun.
Patrick took a deep breath. “Well, come on.”
Sarah was caught off-guard. “What, you mean we’re actually going in?”
He shrugged. “Why not? It’s never locked, and no one ever comes up here.” Sarah seemed hesitant.
“I don’t know, Patrick…”
“Aw, come on. It’s not wicked old, you know; nothing’s gonna fall on your head.” He swallowed. “Trust me.” The words seemed hollow and jagged in his throat. It seemed to worsten the feeling in his stomach.