DIGGING GRAVES.

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐮𝐩. When the abbess had asked about sister Jeanne's absence, I made up a sickness and told her I was tending to her every couple of hours, which I did.

I came into Val's somber cell as much as I could. Dusted furniture, wiped the floors, brought flowers. Competed with Ronan's heater to keep her warm by bringing steaming teas and broths while her lover's machine blasted hotness 24/7.

I told her stories of how sister Beatrice bumped into a tree while running after Paul the goose, or how sister Rehema sneezed so violently during a meal the rice she was eating exploded right in her face. Or how sister Lorraine during a quiet hour ripped ass so loudly sister Sofie dropped her knitting to a squeak.

But Valeria was unresponsive, neither to warmth, nor to food, nor to my voice. I'd always find her lying on the bed on her side, under three blankets and with eyes wide open, stunned. It's like she was imagining Ronan with a noose around his neck, or his body hanging lifelessly from the ceiling, swaying softly side to side like a pendulum, counting down his last moments. Or something of that horrific sort.

I couldn't look at her like this, but I didn't know what to do to help her. I tried this and that. I joked, offered her things, was even ready to risk sneaking to town just to get a hold of contraband.

What did she like, meats, sweets, crackers, pretty little trinkets? I was willing to buy the whole world if it helped to revive her. But she refused my support with silence, and like so had passed five days.

Then one morning I came to her after Lauds, carried oatmeal and tea from the breakfast menu.

"Hey there," I murmured, petting her gently on the shoulder. "How are you?"

She jumped up so abruptly I winced in surprise.

"Please," she cried, "I need your help!"

I was so happy she had finally reacted that it took me a second to respond. "Yes! Yes, of course. Anything!"

"I want to see him. Please. Help me to see him."

"Wait what? What do you mean?"

"The funeral, Eve. I want to be there with him. I want to say goodbye." Her tears were sudden as well, falling down like pearls.

I hugged her tightly. "Shhh…"

"They won't let me be there. It's against the rules. They won't let me, those fuckers!" Her fingers dug into my back, her sobbing soaked my habit. "Help me!"

"Alright, alright. Alright…I will—figure something out, okay?"

"Will you?" Came muffled, hopeful sniffle. "You promise?"

"I promise." I pulled her away. "Just don't cry. I hate seeing you cry. And eat something, will you? You look like shit."

When I saw a ghost of a smile touching her lips, it drove me to act immediately.

"You eat this slime, and I'll be right back."

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥 I immediately went to Rosalyn Jackson's, as no one else came to mind. Or maybe it was because I had already asked for help once that I felt comfortable doing it again rather than going for the abbess or the others.

I knocked on the door.

"Come in. Ah, Eve, dear, it is you." Sister Rosalyn glanced my way and turned back to the computer screen. 𝘈 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘳! I ogled it excitedly, already imagining myself researching demon repellents.

"Yes ma'am," I smiled.

"Please." She beckoned to a chair next to her desk.

"How do you do?"

"Managing, thank you," I replied, throwing a discreet glance at the screen as I took the seat. Seeing the monastery's homepage gave me hope for a working internet reception. "I'm seeking help."

"Help?" Her serpent-green eyes found mine. "I'm listening."

"The matter is very—delicate, you see. It's…how do I say this—"

"Just say it as it is," she said. "I'll understand."

"Okay," I heaved. "So sister Jeanne, she—her dear friend has just passed. She grieves for him deeply. She understands it is against the rules to do this but…she wants to say goodbye."

"Mmh, a funeral…" Sister Rosalyn muttered, tapping her pen pensively against the desk. "There is a possibility of arrangement…hmm. But I'll need the deceased' family contacts. Can you get it?"

"On it."

I ran back to Val on ecstatic wings, like a messenger carrying good news. I naively thought I was helping my friend…when in fact I was digging more graves.