Her hands clasped in front of her, her palms moist as they press against the wooden rail. Her knees grow sore from the kneeling board, holding the weight of her years of physical labour.
Heavenly father, I have sinned against you…
The beginning of all her prayers lately, consisted of endless apologies and imploring of salvation. Sharon hasn't once denied, what she did a week ago was against a religion that she'd been practising all her life. She wore her rosary with pride on the weekends, and exchanged it for her badge every day of the week. She found it easy separating the two, but when you're sitting a courtroom with a man harming the people that you love, and you're put in a situation where you have to choose life or religion, wouldn't you choose life?
Sharon did, and it's been the root of her devastation ever since.
She hears the sound of bells, coming from the clock tower across the street, indicating the length of her visitation. She knows she can't stay too long, from fear of answering to her son, but she doesn't care.
She has only one person to come home to now, and as much as she loves Rusty, it breaks her heart every time, coming home to only him. She squeezes her eyes shut, as another tear falls to the carpet below her. She wants to pray more, but all she feels is anger. Not toward God. This isn't God's fault, it's hers.
She took Dwight Darnell's life. She took the life of another human being, in uniform, on duty. She took Wilfred Darnell's son and that's why God had taken Sharon's Andy.
Clenched between her hands was the necklace that he'd given her on one of their first dates as an official couple. He had gone early to the condo to give it to her, while she was still getting ready. He clipped it behind her neck, and gently pulled her hair through the delicate chain, telling her he saw it and had to get it because it matched her dress.
She never had time to prepare for this. Sharon was young when she watched her grandmother slowly die of alzheimer's, but she knew that the end was coming. Her grandmother was taken slowly, and gracefully. Andy was ripped from her very hands. One second they were holding hands in the break room, discussing where to go for dinner, and the next her hand was being clutched to his chest. She cried his name over and over, until she couldn't hear what her subordinates around her were saying, waiting for him to answer. The longer she waited for a response, the blurrier her sight was getting, and the less control she had. Her elbows had gone limp and she was practically draped over him, her hands never leaving his. The only indication she had of his liveliness was his tight hold on her.
She still couldn't think past that. She was holding on to the time when it wasn't certain and she could still hope that he would be okay.
She was lifted off him in a hurry. Provenza held her back, while Amy stepped in and began doing compressions. His eyes were closed when Amy finally stood.
At least Dwight Darnell went quickly. He was unconscious from the time the bullet made contact up until his last breath. Andy had to suffer, and that's what he was doing when her hands was held tightly between his. She didn't like to imagine the things that would have ran through his mind in that moment.
She hadn't told anyone, but she was considering retirement. Her whole life she'd reputably put her job first. She'd lost her husband, a drunkard or not. Most of her children's adult life she'd missed, spent on the other side of the country. Now she'd traded in her boyfriend and one of her best lieutenant's for a badge of honour. She didn't feel comfortable wearing it on her sleeve. It didn't feel like an honour.