Agnus Dei

I still understand. I stare at my folded hands, and understand. I feel some warm air coming from outside, warming my tired body that feels so lost between these thick walls, and I understand. Something bad has happened, someone did something bad, and it can't have been Robert -- because he promised it wasn't anything bad, so it wasn't. I keep wracking my brain to try to understand what it was, then - what I did. I can't think of anything, I am too tired.

Sometimes I still wish I could confess. They used to ask me every day, promising me I could keep my baby with me, that I might even go back to my family if I told them the whole story. I kept quiet, struggling to keep words and tears inside me.

I don't have to carry the useless weight of my body much longer, I know that. Maybe a confession would make it lighter, but I can't do that either. I promised my brother I wouldn't tell.