AT SOME POINT DURING THE NIGHT I HEARD MY mother’s fight to keep breathing end. I would carry that moment with me for the rest of my life. I screamed for help, but no one came.

I slipped in and out of consciousness after that. Each time I came to, I’d call for her. And each time her silence reminded me she was never going to reply again. My mother was dead.

When I heard the birds start their morning chirping, I dared hope that when I opened my eyes I would find myself in bed at home, waking from a nightmare. But I wasn’t at home. I was hanging from a rope, paying the price for my deception.

They came to collect me when the sun rose over the horizon. They cut down my numb hands and pulled off the hood so I could watch as my mother’s body dropped lifeless when they cut her free. I just stared, too broken and numb to react.

I was escorted back to the prison and locked back inside my cage, where Tanner told me I would be expected to repent before the congregation the following day, so I should prepare. I hardly heard his instruction. I curled up on the cold ground, pulling my knees close to my chest, hoping to block out the world and escape into darkness.

For the next few hours I just lay there, a single paralyzing thought consuming my mind and reminding me of who I was. I had murdered my mother. There was no way around it. Every path led me back to the damning conclusion. I had killed my own mother.

I was slightly aware of movement sometime later, but I didn’t respond. There was a rattling of tin and locks, but I didn’t raise my head from the floor to see. There wasn’t any point. I was going to spend the rest of my life in this cell, and after what I’d done, I deserved to.

Eventually, a chill set into my flesh that had me shivering. I shifted to search for warmth and was surprised to see that it was night. I could make out a fresh plate of food and a water jug in the corner. And just beside it, a folded heap that looked like a blanket.

I pushed myself up, arms shaking. I crawled over to the blanket, pulled it across the floor, and wrapped it around my body. The material was rough, but it added a layer of warmth, and after a moment my bones stopped knocking against each other.

All I saw was darkness. All I felt was cold. I couldn’t imagine warmth or light. I had been stripped of them both.

Can darkness steal your light?

The thought popped into the farthest corner of my mind, and I answered.

Yes. It has.