The convent has its own cemetery. Sacre Coeur has a history stretching back almost two hundred years, and this cemetery was inaugurated during the 1918 influenza outbreak. Since then, it's been used sparsely, when nuns pass away. The advantage is that the cemetery is located close to the chapel, so the body can be put to rest right after the religious services. There are maybe two administrative buildings that we have to pass on the way to the cemetery. Sisi's idea to place the body in the luggage was brilliant. The luggage's wheels make it easy to carry it towards the cemetery. Once there, we look for a hidden parcel, where the presence of fresh earth would go unnoticed. We find just the place, right next to a willow tree. The shadow cast from the tree should mask the turned earth.
"Wait!" Sisi says and dashes towards one of the smaller sheds next to the cemetery. She only takes a few minutes before returning with two shovels.
"Now's the hard part." She sighs and thrusts the shovel into the ground before scooping up some earth and dumping it to the side. I take the other shovel and do the same.
It must be a couple hours later when, almost drenched in sweat; we finish digging.
"Honestly, this wasn't that bad." Sisi's comments, and my head snaps towards her. Is she serious? "I think I'd rather dig up graves than wash dishes. Do you think I can apply for the position?" She's extremely serious as she asks this, and I can't help but laugh.
"Sisi..." I start, but I can't stop laughing. "You really want to trade dishes for graves?"
"It's still work." She shrugs, but I can tell she's amused as well.
"Let's do this!" I bring forward the suitcase and together we throw it into the hole.
"I say it's deep enough."
"I think so." I agree.
We grab the shovels once more and we cover the hole with earth. This doesn't take nearly as long and we soon find ourselves back at the chapel, trying to wipe away all evidence of the crime.
Chapter Eight
CLAUDIA HASN'T MENTIONED FATHER Guerra in the last few days. I'm happy that she doesn't seem to be traumatized by that event, but I guess she doesn't really understand what happened to her. I'd tried to talk to her and explain that what happened isn't ok, and that she should let no one touch her like that. She'd seemed more preoccupied with the fact that I'd yelled at her. I'd assured her several times it was not her fault, and that adults can misbehave too—the example being Father Guerra. Our discussions seem to have had an effect on her as she simply stopped bringing up the event.
Sisi too pretended that our late-night criminal adventure did not happen. She did not mention Father Guerra even once, and everything went back to normal.
Or so we thought.
Not everyone had forgotten about Father Guerra, and a couple of days later, there were rumors circulating that he'd suddenly left. Some nuns said that Mother Superior was distraught by his sudden absence. After hearing everyone talk about Father Guerra, I cave and ask Sisi.
"Do you think they'll look for him?"
"Don't worry. There's no chance of them finding him, right? There's no trace of him." She answers in a hushed tone.
No matter how much I'd tried to justify my actions, I still felt guilty about what I'd done. No matter how many times I tried to picture Father Guerra with his hand up Claudia's skirt, I still could not forget his eyes right before he'd died. I hadn't told Sisi, but Father Guerra had been plaguing my nightmares ever since that night. Before, it was just the monster with the amber eyes. Now... my nightmares have changed.
They always start with that man... the one with the amber eyes. I can't make out his features, I just know he inspires such feelings of dread in my heart that I run. But he always catches up with me, pinning me from behind. Before, though, the dreams always ended with him lifting my skirt and forcing himself on me. Now... I fight back, and I push him off me. But when I try to defend myself, he turns into Father Guerra.
And I kill him.
Rationally, I thought I'd be able to forget all about it. My subconscious, however, seems opposed to the idea.
That night, I dream again. Tossing and turning, I give up any hope for rest when I see it's almost six.
I quietly get up and pour myself a glass of water.
"You're not ok, are you?" Sisi props herself up in her bed, her eyes watching my every movement.
I shake my head.
"He deserved it, ok?" She pats the spot next to her, and I lie down.
"I know that... in my head. But I still feel guilty."
"Just try to forget about it. It will get easier with time." Sisi suggests.
Just then, a scream permeates the air. I look at Sisi, frowning. Another scream, a different voice.
Sisi scrambles out of bed, quickly putting on her habit.
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
"Aren't you curious?" She asks, and yet I hear yet another scream.
I spare one look at Claudia and she's still deep asleep. Letting myself convinced by Sisi, I dress and locking the door, we head towards the origin of the sound.
"I think it's the graph." Sisi points in that direction and starts running. Shaking my head, I follow. Maybe whatever it is will take my mind off Father Guerra for a moment.
We reach the graph and see a bunch of nuns, all of them looking as if they've seen the very devil. Some are crossing themselves, some are kissing a cross, and others are just kneeling and praying. Impatient, Sisi barges through the sea of nuns, taking me with her. But then she suddenly comes to a stop.
"Mother of God... What..." Sisi mutters. She's standing in front of me, so I take two steps to the right so I can see what's in front of her. I stop with a gasp.
The graph has a copy of Michelangelo's Pietà as its central piece. And the sculpture has been defiled in the worst manner.
I almost gag at the sight—and smell.
Instead of Christ's body lying in Mary's arms, it's Father Guerra's body. He is naked, his skin bloated and discolored. His previously pale skin is now brown with some purple spots. His torso has been cut open, his organs spilling out. I think I can make out his intestines draping down the indentations of Mary's dress. There are flies buzzing about and maggots crawling out of his chest cavity, some of them spilling over into the grass. There are some bugs dangling from Mary's face, trying to burrow into the open orifices. The smell of putrefaction that's making the bugs buzz with glee is causing nun after nun to collapse mid-prayer.
But that's not even the worst.
At the bottom of the statue, painted in blood, are five words.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID
"Blasphemy!" one nun yells.
Father Guerra's head is hanging loosely at the neck, the flesh thinned out by putrefaction and the many predators at play. Even now, it's moving ever so slightly up and down, the spine fully visible. The cervical vertebrae are straining to hold the weight of the head... until they can't anymore. The head falls with a thud, all the nuns scrambling back at the sound. It then rolls in the grass until it reaches the feet of a nun. She barely spares it a glance as she, too, falls to the ground.
My hand shoots out, latching onto Sisi's arm. I try to steady myself, but my feet are swaying.