The nunnery was in a fairly secluded part of the old town, covered with trees. But right next to the church so everyone knew where to find it if need be. The need had never been. The priest, father of the church, holy man, what have you, sits on his bed in his chamber across from the small bathroom of which blood still stains the floor. Before him she floats as he reads,

Forgive me father for I have sinned. I have lied, cheated, stole, and if you are reading this I have committed the ultimate sin. My things I leave to my sisters and to you father for when I knew you, you had always been more than kind. This is not because of you though, dear father, it simply is. I leave you this picture of me, to not remember me as I was but instead as the child who did not know what would become of herself, who did not know the terrors of this world and whose innocence was everlasting… or so I thought. Pray for my soul as I leave this world, father and if one day I see you in the way of looking up, than I can only blame myself.

Silent tears fell from his eyes as they lifted to meet hers, he fell to his knees, hands clasped together like in prayer with the same words tumbling from his lips that he had said since he found her, only this time he was praying for his soul as well, for those clasped hands had a knife in them this time inching closer and closer to his chest.