Misnomer
…I will sign away to you my soul…
Her husband was never a good man (lover). He brought the prostitutes and deranged maniacs into their home and demanded for her to cater to their every megrim.
And she would smile and acquiesce to the crazies while cursing him inside. (This continued for years.)
Then one day, she was offered the ascension into godhood, and so she agreed (like any good Samaritan) and that was the end of her faithless husband & woe. This was as the story went: this is the story of becoming painted and poisoned.
Strutting in (feathers in a bunch at tail's end) decrepit and in ruins of slouched-over liquor, he draped a sweaty arm over her shoulder, kissed her raw on the cheek, and shoved inside a slaughtered pig to be cooked. Still drenched in blood, still caked with mud, the hacked-up swine collided against her newly cleaned floors and made a very nice and lovely thump.
"You expect me to cook it?"
"Of course."
She did with exotic spices and tasteful wine.
He devoured it whole, bones and skin and torso and head. Then he toppled over, dead and slumped—this was when she smiled and carved striped patterns onto his cheek.
This was the moment she lost her mind and became the symbol for mercy.
This was how she became a crusader, a patron saint for her village (with a tiny tidbit of her story left buried alive).