The grave was so new that the dirt piled up on the newly interred coffin still bulged at bit at the surface. The surrounding grass would soon spread and overtake this mound, just as the earth itself would settle upon the remains of the departed soul beneath it.
Marisa knelt down at the new head stone that she had arranged to be placed there, a simple flat stone etched with the name of her sister, Alessia, who had killed herself just a few months before. She made the sign of the cross, kissed the rosary beads in her right hand, and stared at the name on the stone.
Her face was blank, her eyes dry, but Marisa"s heart burned with a passion for revenge. It bothered her during her everyday routine but troubled her most when she had time to visit Alessia"s grave.
“Bastardo,” she spit out, “BA
