Religion

Peter was not a religious man, how could he be living in a world where people could die and then be regenerated by a man playing God? He had watched his mother waste away in front of his eyes as his siblings left them alone because of his hair and his eye colour. He had seen people carve lines into his own skin with their dirty knives clutched tightly in their dirty hands. He shuddered, hands grasping his arms under the thin cloth of his white night shirt, thumbs tracing the curved lines that encircled his arms. A sleepy mumble from his left drew his attention from the unpleasant memories and to the drowsily blinking woman curled up against him. But how could he not believe in some form of higher power when this angel had finally consented to be his and only his?

One word prompts are accepted! ^^ Updates will be subject to the muse I'm afraid :P