Confessional
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The sound of weeping drifted through the open door, up the stairs towards the woman huddled in the corner of the darkened bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Father. I tried to make it stop, truly.” Drusilla rocked rhythmically against the headboard, clutching her rosary tighter, slipping each blood-slicked bead through fumbling fingers as she prayed. “Through my fault.”
In the drawing room below, her mother held the body of another daughter close, sheltering her from further onslaught from the beast that had ripped out her throat. The child was torn from her arms, tossed aside. Tears turned to screams.
“Mea máxima culpa.”
January 2007