... wondered what, if anything, could save her from the tumult - the sheer mental terror, really- of having to destroy her only begotten son with a shovel right between his zombied eyes; but that might make matters worse, he'd already been killed once already, and now look at him: arisen from the dead, stalking the land, the holes in his hands and feet dripping with blood, like some graveyard ghos', and what kind of preternatural force could have brought Jesus back like this- and then the memory struck her, like a pain in her womb, of being seventeen, a virgin still (though everyone thought she was a slut, but fuck them) and that night, in tears over her future and the loneliness she saw in it, and then that Man came in, no one else in the house remembered Him entering and no one believed one bit of her story (at least for a few years) and He told her He was...
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Ham-fisted ham fisting.
