 My theatrics were different, though. No tears, no words. I went to my room, took my Bible, opened it up to Genesis chapter 1, and I began to tear it. Page by page, chapter by chapter, scripture by scripture. See, if this book was true, my father could not lie. My father would not die. The only premise that made sense to me was that this book had to be a lie. I had made my way through the Old Testament, ripping the Bible into shreds.