Chapter One -

Pain wracked through her body as she lay there on the bedroom floor, half

tangled in summertime sheets. With her head tilted back, exposing the ashen

skin of her delicate throat, Mary weeped inaudibly. Her long, fine waves of sorrel

were matted against her clammed skin and the marble.

She was alone...the sun had not yet opened his eyes and the birds had not yet

begun their song. Not even the help had risen, and their quarters were far

beyond earshot. They would not hear her heaving sobs and weak cries. She was

alone in this godforsaken labyrinth, he was not here to offer her soft smiles and a

steady hand.

Her fair, sullen cheeks were stains with tears and her features were twisted with

the pain coursing through her core. The delicate silk of her nightdress was

stained with a deep red. Propping herself on her elbows and emitting a low

groan of despair, she gingerly brushed her fingertips across the dampness of her

womanhood. The precious red liquid was stark in contrast to her fingertips, that

was what Mary first observed, it was very dark. Her soft brown orbs widened as

the realization began to dawn on her.

Not this. Anything but this...they couldn't bear this now.

The thick, disturbing smell of the blood pooling between her thighs rose to her

face. Feeling a ball forming in her throat, she jerked her head to the side and

attempted to calm her growing wails. Mary couldn't tear her eyes from the

violent smears on the floor and on the skin of her thighs. This...

Leaning against the post of their bed, Mary pulled herself from the ground and

was met with the tickling of slowing rivets of blood running down her legs. For a

brief moment, she slumped heavily against the post and gazed forlornly at the

window before her, the sun's rays had begun their ascent through the trees. The

air was stale and tense as she struggled to wipe the tears from her face.

Mary's paled, chapped lips twisted as she felt the breaking in her chest come

again. An almost animalistic, distressed cry ripped itself from Mary's heaving

chest. Why? They had wanted this for so long...she didn't want to cause him any

more pain.

Why would God let this happen? Why would He punish such a kind hearted and

gentle soul? What God would smite an innocent life? What God would return

faith with...this?

Falling to her knees into the pool of blood before her, Mary

pressed her palms against her face, staining her skin. Like her husband did only

two years ago for his daughter, she mourned her lost child.