A late night at a house party after a graduated college, with fellow alumni. A guy I met that night, he said he was a Pastor. We talked for awhile. He had a nice smile. He was interesting, he seemed…different. He said that parties weren’t his scene, because he was a “Man of the Cloth.” He drank from a Sonic cup. He promised it was just strawberry limeade. I went to the restroom. The whole house was dark, the only lights came from the strobe lights and the TV playing familiar songs and music videos. I walked out of the restroom and was suddenly pushed back in. It was him. He reeked of alcohol and strawberries. I fought in the darkness as he searched for parts of my body that were invisible. He tried to cover my mouth. I slapped him. He laughed. I screamed for help. It was almost too late. I caused a scene. He was asked to leave. He left. He was an ImPastor.