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Emilia Estevan bowed her head, a single tear dropping from her right eye. her husband, age of fifty-five; he had passed in his sleep.The man murdered in his own home.

Thoughts of faith failing her, now dwell on the grieving woman's mind.

Emilia, she was mother to three. She now found herself fighting these negative thoughts by evil's waking temptations, in a fast drawing of her memory to times of passed positive recollection. Repeating her husband's own spoken words, Emilia spoke aloud:

"..... Faith, it can only guide us..... The evils of man, they will not deny us our right of passage to a greater existence......"

Emilia now cried. her oldest son Marcus, attempted to comfort her. Emilia pushed off from him angrily.

"..... Mother?!"

"..... You, you are no son of mine..... You, you and your gang interests..... it is you that brought this early passing upon our family!"

Emilia's youngest daughter cried out in her brother's defense.

"Do not defend him Lucienda..... Not ever! Be gone from me! You are nobody to this family!"

Marcus shook his head and walked away. the teen boy, he had nothing to say.

"..... Mama? What about Margherita? shall we not call on her?" Lucienda questioned.

"No! you shall not contact your older sister..... she too has made her choice..... You child..... You alone are sibling of mine..... You alone are of my blood, and shall from this day forward bear the gifts of our name....."

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