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Burden of Faith - Chapter 1:
God was not in His heaven that warm summer night, as the freight train lurched up the grade toward the sleepy Texas town of Bandera. If He had been, surely He would have let Death sleep. Unfortunately, the staccato shock of couplings reaching their limit awoke Death.
Death was alone that night, which was usual for this backwater run, meandering west through San Antonio to nowhere in particular. Nocturnal travelers had long ago learned there was nothing gained, and everything to lose in the company of creatures such as Death.
Placing his tattooed shoulder against the frame, Death forced the heavy door open just as the lights of Bandera snaked into view. As the freight entered the town, clattering through one squalid neighborhood after another, Death waited patiently in the shadows nursing his bottle. Finally, taking a long last swig, he grabbed the doorframe and swung his powerful body out into the wind. Landing hard on loose gravel, Death fell cursing, onto the roadbed as the train rolled on unconcerned into the night.
The trip from Huntsville Prison to the park in Bandera had taken most of the day. As Death rose, checking the switchblade in his boot, food weighed heavily on his mind. Drawn by the prospect of a hot meal, Death shuffled off through the trees.

Not far enough away, Juan and Maria strolled through the park, as had countless lovers before them. As they walked arm in arm, Maria's thoughts returned to her eventful day, much of which they had managed to spend together. She remembered how she had struggled to be attentive in church and helpful during the midday meal, all the while keeping this most precious part of her life safely within her heart. There was, of course, the unfortunate necessity of lying about her intentions as she escaped to meet with her Juan. Maria disliked deceiving her parents. Nevertheless, she could do little else. She knew Juan would not be welcome in her life until she was old enough to marry, a point her parents had made abundantly clear. Fate, it seemed, had presented her with the classic lover's dilemma: rules she could not live with, concerning a man she could not live without.
Bandera's park ran along the Medina River between the rail line and the town. Although otherwise unremarkable, the park contained one extraordinary jewel. Nestled within it, lay a crescent shaped pond embracing a narrow passage, along which the two now walked.
Breaking out of the trees at the center of the isthmus, they stood for a moment transfixed, as swans glided gently across the water, leaving gossamer trails glistening in the moonlight. Entranced by Maria's radiance, Juan reached out to her and pulled her close.
Several quiet moments passed before the lovers continued toward the gazebo, its privacy beckoning to them from but a short distance away. Laughing at nothing in particular, they entered and fell into each other's arms - kissing passionately.
At first, Maria squirmed playfully as Juan unbuttoned her blouse to fondle her breasts. But soon, Maria settled back against him, slowly becoming aware of the warmth from his erection swelling between them. Maria smiled and raised her lips to kiss Juan. She was proud to be able to create such passion in their love. She knew that soon they would be married in the church, and then she would be free to give herself to him, accepting from him that which she now so desperately desired.
Gently, Juan laid Maria down on the bench and pressed his body to hers. As they clung to each other, Juan's hand moved from Maria's breast and crossed her skirt, to caress her pubic mound. Her passion growing, Maria moaned softly and instinctively relaxed her thighs. A few moments later, however, Maria once again began her now familiar struggle. "Baby no, we can't!" she murmured, taking Juan's hand from the place that only moments before had welcomed his touch.
Each time it was like this . . .
Each time, their first innocent brush of lips invariably led to more insistent expressions of their desire, and to the dream. It was Maria's dream, and each time it came, she would struggle sadly back through the enveloping veil of her passion, back through the remnants of her resolve, back from the abyss. For her dream was of a child - their child. However, it was not to be conceived at this time or in this place.
Pushing Juan away, Maria's heart cried at the rejection in his eyes. Softening, she melted once again into his arms and tenderly placed her hand on his manhood.
"Come Juanito; let me do this for you." Slowly at first, Maria moved with Juan in the now familiar rhythm they shared, until his body arched in completion.
His fevered passion spent, Maria held Juan in her arms and dreamed, as lovers will about their future. First, of course, would be the wedding, but then as soon as possible, would come the child.
"Juanito, that shall be his name."
"No," Juan countered. "I think it should be Chuy. Chuy's a muy macho name - befitting my son."
"I am not gonna name our child Chuy. You know how I feel about that man. You're such an asshole! Why are you always slamming me this way?"
"Because my little Senorita, you're so easy."
"Don't call me easy," Maria growled. "I know what that means."
"Okay then, if it's a girl, we shall call her Maria."
"I don't especially like that either, but if it'll make you happy . . ."
"You make me happy," Juan whispered, taking Maria in his arms, once again molding her body to his.
Time stood still for a few moments, but only a few. Too soon, the lovers rose and once again stepped out under the stars. As Maria raised her eyes to gaze upon her love, she felt a sudden chill. Moving closer to Juan, she neither heard nor saw the blow that lifted her off her feet and drove her face-first onto the path. The massive two-fisted hammer-like blow struck Maria between the shoulder blades - taking her breath away. As she fell, the impact of her teeth on the rough surface of the path cruelly lacerated her cheek. Confused and spitting blood, Maria tried to rise, but her legs no longer obeyed. She opened her eyes, but a violet mist obscured her view.
Unable to make sense of what was happening to her, Maria remained unaware of the life-and-death struggle, taking place just inches away. Suddenly, terror insinuated itself into her consciousness as a powerful presence grasped her from above, violently shook her, then cast her down. With the stench of whisky and old sweat enveloping her, Maria was forced to endure Death's touch. As she knelt, trembling, the sudden flash of a naked blade rekindled the panic within her. In desperation, she struggled to her feet and ran. Once again, however, Death overtook her and hurled her to the ground.
Maria began to cry as the sound of her clothing being cut from her body hammered its reality home to her. Indeed, it was but a moment before she felt the first painful thrust as Death attempted to pierce her innocence.
"Please Senor, stop!" Maria pleaded, twisting her hips to evade his attack. "Please, don't do this!"
Death grabbed her pubic hair and held her in place. Resigned to her fate, Maria awaited the inevitable penetration. Suddenly, an unspeakable horror overwhelmed her, as Death, thrust his knife into her vagina and savagely cut her. With searing pain coursing through her body, Maria screamed in tortured agony and collapsed.

Chapter 15 (partial):
She came to him before dawn on that fateful day, while the rest of her family lay sleeping. He had stayed over the evening before, dozing on the couch in the room next to hers, so near and yet . . .
He was with her now, but in the morning, he would be gone, off to school in the East. His, was the second step in their plan for the rest of their lives, the first of which had been to fall in love. The third step would be for her to join him in the spring. They hoped, in time, to room "near", yet not "with" one another. To do otherwise was too dangerous a step, a step best left for others to tread. Those were issues for the future, however, for another time. For now, her focus was on fear.
Earlier, as she lay in her bed listening to the rhythmic sounds of his breathing, she had slowly realized the risk she was taking by letting him go off alone. A lot could happen in a year to strain the delicate bond between them. Would he remember her after he had gone? And, if so, what vision would he see? Would the memory of an adolescent kiss, or her budding breasts pressing against him in the dark, be enough to hold his heart?
Easing quietly out of bed, she crossed to the chest against the wall, the wall keeping them apart, knelt and removed the gown. Slipping out of her tee shirt and shorts, she quickly wiped her body clean of the remnants of sleep - and of her fear. It would not do for him to sense the measure of her dread. Then, reaching into the drawer one last time, she retrieved her panties. After all, there's only so much a girl can invest in creating a dream.
She leaned over his outstretched body, and gently placed her hand on his heart. In doing so, her gown - rich with its heady perfume - fell away from her virginal body and slowly descended over him, robbing him of the ability to speak, even to breathe. At her touch he stirred, and, reaching into the darkness, pulled her down . . . down onto his awakening body, down onto his awakening need.

As she sat in the stairwell, huddled against the early morning chill, she could not remember when she had removed the panties, although she was sure it had been her idea. For even under the power of his passion, she was certain he would never have taken advantage of her, no matter how desperately she had wanted him to - for that was not part of their plan. But that was then, and this was now.
Waiting in the dawn, she marveled at how such a beautiful dream could have gone so terribly wrong, and yet there it was, shattered in pieces at her feet. Gone . . . because of the baby.
She had not told him, of course, because of his damned nobility. She knew he would immediately leave school to be with her, to support her, then possibly someday learn to regret, and to blame her. Anyway, it was just easier this way . . . without him. This way, she could do whatever was necessary to save his life, even if it meant destroying hers - and their baby.
The easy part was obtaining the phone number and making the call; keeping her nerve up had been harder. In fact, everything had gone according to plan until "they" arrived to block her path.
First the horrible signs appeared, carried by a few early-risers. If the clinic had been open by then, she felt certain she could have entered without being seen. In time, however, their numbers grew to the point where entry without being accosted was no longer possible.

And so, she remained in the stairwell, contemplating her fate, limited it seemed to the bitter end of a rusty coat hanger.
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