The Sins of a Saint

Chapter 1

"There's not a soul in the world that is without sin. Even those we call saints are sinners."

My mother used to say those words all the time when I was young. I was never able to fully comprehend what she meant due to my immaturity and lack of experience in the real world. She spoke those familiar words so often I became used to it, and accepted what she said without question. Not once had I stopped to really think about what she meant, but soon enough I'd know all too well the meaning behind her words.

The day my Mother fell was the day our family became the talk of the town. Every corner I turned I would always hear whispers and rumors drifting about from one person to the next like the plague. Gossip was contagious in this town, so much so that not a single person was unaware of my mother's condition by the end of that week.

My older sister, Delphine, was to take me into town on the weekends because our father needed peace and quiet at home so he could concentrate on his ongoing studies. Nearly every person we crossed paths with kept a safe distance from us, or looked at my sister and I with a pitiful expression painted on their facial features. I despised everyone for making things almost unbearable for my sister. The attention made her uncomfortable, and with all of the glances and whispers her anxiety only worsened to an obviously painful amount. Still, she carried on and walked through the town with confidence despite her anxiousness. She was always one I admired above all.

Whenever we arrived home, we'd usually find our father asleep in his study. The stench of alcohol filled the room, and shards of glass from broken bottles made a mess of the floor. Delphine would set a glass of water on his desk before quietly closing the door, careful not to wake him.
"Why is he always like this?"
I had questioned.

"He hasn't always been this way, Galileo."
That was the only thing she said to me, every time I asked. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she searched for something more to say- anything to excuse his dreadful behavior. She never seemed to have found anything more to say.

Each night I would visit my mother in her room. I'd sit on the side of her bed, as we talked until I started to drift off- then she would send me away to my room to rest.
What we talked about, however, I can't recall. Not a single conversation with her do I remember, regretfully so. Only the words she had spoken so many times before rest in my memories of her. The words I never understood were the only ones I can clearly recall.

A few weeks after she had fallen ill, my mother had passed away in her sleep.
The night before that I hadn't visited her. I had told myself I couldn't bare to see her in her conditional any longer, so I headed off to bed early.
The next morning, waking to the news of her passing, I immediately regretted it.
For the rest of that day I hadn't left my room. Delphine brought my meals on a tray to me, though I hadn't touched a single thing. She always returned with a smile, though her concern shown so obviously through her expression.
"It's not your fault."
Those were the last words she said to me that day.
I merely rolled over, signaling I did not want to be talked to.
Delphine reluctantly made her way out of my room, gently closing the door behind her.
Once she left, I let myself and all of my pent up emotions go.
Tears began to stream from my eyes, making my pillow damp beneath my head.
I muffled my cries into my pillow, not wanting to alert anyone who may be close by to my current state.

I cried until my eyes couldn't stay open any longer, and I reluctantly allowed myself to slowly drift off to sleep.