Cursing in surprise, she looked down. Then she realized what she said. "Sorry for the language. And I'm sorry about your dad, I understand. That's really gotta suck. I understand, though. My father was a strict catholic, and he hated the fact that I like rock and wasn't catholic. I believed in God, yes, but not anymore. I mean, where was he when we needed him in that crash? Where was he when you needed him to spare your wife and future child? Where was he when I needed him to spare Carter?" She sighed. "My father just hated the fact that I didn't live like him, and he shot me six times." She rolled the sleeve of her Kara Clark shirt up to reveal her shoulder, covered in scars. "Don't think I don't understand." She whispered. "Because I promise you, I do. You and I are alike. Hated by our families, and shot by our own parents, for God's sake." Jaiquill sighed again. "Preston, what I want to know is where is God when we need him...?"