She was on her knees, repeating her hail Maries over and over again, her fingers tangled in her rosary, clutching it so tight that crimson dripped freely down her palm. She rocked back and forth, sobbing and gasping as she prayed. The scene of her husband, dying with poison flickered through her mind... Her mother's face with that serene smile as she handed tea to her only daughter... oh, the pain! The loss of the ones she loved most in the world wrapped around her like a tightly fisted hand, grief choking at her just as she began to beg God to take her too... Take her to see her baby, to see her loving husband.

And then all at once, numbness surrounded her, and she sat despondent and silent for a time.

Oh, God, she thought, when would the pain of losing them go away??

She finally moved to sit in the pew, cleaning the blood from her palm with a cloth and stashing her bloodied beads away.

She ignored the priest as he made his way around, his words going in one ear and out the other, and then a look of pity when he recognized her grief for what it was. She heard him utter some kind of prayer but did not listen to the words...

The priest finally sat down in the back of the church, watching the woman but not approaching, and quietly continuing his prayers, as if they could somehow take away whatever grief she was bearing. Gabriel had not been here for a week and already he had seen new life and death, intense joy and intense suffering. He had seen the look of gratitude and joy on new parents' face as he baptised their child. He had heard a man confess cruelty. He had seen the agony on a dying child's face as he anointed her. He had married a young couple. He had presided over the funeral of the dead girl. And even when no liturgy or sacraments were celebrated, people came to the church with their joys and woes. Like this woman. He did not want to disturb her, but he did not want to leave her either, in case she needed him. It was always hard to decide whether to approach people, or whether it would interrupt their prayers. He took a rosary from the pocket of his black cassock and started praying quietly, his fingers moving over bead after bead, as if he could join her in her prayer, if not in her suffering.

"Don't ya dare move a damned inch , and don't eat the rope! I'll only be a moment!" A loud rough voice called out as a short man stepped through the church door. He only cast the other two in the church a dark glare as he slumped in an angry mood as it seemed to be chronically. He walked forward with his cane in hand and moved towards the candles. 

His very presence was like a storm  cloud wherever he went. He sucked the life out of parties and could make anyone almost as miserable as he. The flames from the candles even seemed to waver by his very aura as he made his way over. He knelt down though it made him grumble and curse like a sailor. He muttered something low as he lit a candle. He clearly wanted to be out as soon as possible.

She wanted to open her mouth, but she couldn't. Words failed her as she sat there, especially when the old man came in. She automatically crossed herself when she heard him cuss in the church. Her eyes, puffy and dark from a mixture of lack of sleep and tears, peered at the old man, and then back to the priest. A look that said she was overwhelmed was upon her face.

Luna wanted to flee at that point. She murmured in Spanish her distress, her head was hurting. The doctor had said the poison would have long lasting effects in her and she was certainly feeling them in the way her heart began to flutter in a way that wasn't a good sign. She looked like she would faint at any given moment.

Gabriel cringed upon hearing the man's language. Even the woman turned around to look. But when he saw her face, he was more concerned with her than with the old man, who seemed angry about merely being here. The young priest got up, and with his rosary dangling from one hand, he made his way over to the woman, stopping at a distance where she could hear him, but he didn't feel he invaded her space. "Are you alright ma'm? Do you need...?" But then he noticed the blood dripping from her hand. "But you're injured..." He approached now and held out his hand for her to show her palm.

The priest approached her and she shrank back a little, for the last priest she came in contact with in that very church was a man who had heard of what happened and kept prodding her for a confession she didn't even need to make to begin with since there was no guilt for poisoning her husband. "Will you judge me too for what I did not do?" she asked in heavy Spanish accent. "For the husband I did not kill or the baby I lost? For the poison we drank from the cups my mother gave us? Will you judge me harshly like the last priest did for sins of my mother?" It all came spilling out even as she tried not to. She looked so ill, her skin almost chalky.

She was gripping her hands again so hard that fresh blood spilled as did tears. This was not how a guilty woman acted. She clutched the pew in front of her then, smearing blood along the way, and stumbled toward the aisle, only to hit the floor with her knees as said long lasting effects caused her to become weak. Sweat poured from her face and she leaned her head on her arm, which was draped over the seat of the pew she'd left.

Her eyes were then on the old man and she muttered something about men like him calling her a black widow, though not him specifically.

Father Kemble once again. Gabriel tried not to judge people based on rumours, but when a lot of people told similar stories about the same person, it was hard. He was more occupied with what her words implied, however. Murder? Did the police know of this? But before he could say anything, she was stumbling out of the pew and Gabriel rushed over. "Stop, please! You need to stay seated. Sir!" He turned to the old man burning a candle. "Can you please find a doctor?" Gabriel turned back to the woman, arms outstretched in case she would try to stand and fall again.

The old man furrowed his brow looking angry that they had interrupted his prayer. He looked from the priest to the girl and let out a string of curses anew as he got to his feet and leaned on his cane.

"I don't know no doctor! Why? Wha's wrong with 'er?"
 She sick?"

"No doctor," she said, her head pounding. "It's from the poison... My mother tried to kill me... she kill my husband, and my son was stillborn." Her words were soft and almost monotone by the way she spoke. "They hang her for it but the whole town condemn me too. I suffer greatly and they say I knew what she did when she did... Why would I drink poison? Why would I kill the man I love more than life itself?"

Gabriel looked shocked as the whole story came out at once. What sort of town had he landed himself in!? He furrowed his brows together. "Alright, alright.... First things first. We need to wrap up that hand. Please, sit down or lie down in one of the pews. Don't try to walk just yet. I'll be right back." And he disappeared into the sacristy.