Gabe was twenty years old and somehow responsible for directing the music for a college retreat.

It was already more than he felt ready for: new songs, last-minute rehearsals, and a team trusting him to lead the most important moment of the weekend.

Then one of the singers walked up to him at dinner.

She could barely speak. There was blood on the napkins in her hand.

The night’s music depended on her voice.

With the biggest moment of the retreat only minutes away, three students slipped into a back room and did the only thing they knew to do.

They started to pray.