Trinitarian Formula

"In the name of the father..."

I have something to tell you.

"And the son..."

It's a secret between us, no one else can know.

"And the holy spirit."

Are you ready?

"Amen."

I killed my wife.

I kept having these thoughts throughout the day while I was faced with the few people who regularly visit the church. To be fair, I don't know for sure if my wife is dead yet, but what I do know is that I had planned out the entire thing before morning even came. By the time I started the usual liturgy, I was already thinking about the possibility that my plan may not work and fire back against me without my very knowledge. In fact, while I was reading today's epistle in front of the clueless worshippers in front of me, I kept sweating and shaking so much that I almost dropped the bible from which I am reading the letters of Saint Paul that I must recite for that day before my regular sermons. The demons inside me swirled so much that I kept on grabbing the golden cross laced around my neck to disallow Satan himself from further sipping my spirit because of the sins I had done.

I planned to kill my wife, that enough is a fact.

And throughout the day, I expected that she might burst into the church, yelling about how her husband, the priest before them, who's enveloped with a gold and purple, had tried to take her soul to Jesus Christ himself. However, nothing of that sort ever happened. The hymns were sung, the epistles were read, the sermons were given, the rituals were done, the hem was touched, and the prayers were given, but nothing ever came barging towards that door. In fact, it was all too surreal that the people around me started asking me what happened to my wife, for she had never once failed to attend a single liturgy in her life as a child of God.

Which is why right now, as I wore my black cassock and felt my ash-colored necklace, I started to feel giddy, excited--my, I am even feeling just a tad bit joyous that perhaps my plan had worked! She is gone, and the secret I hold within my heart shall forever be sealed there within me and with her once she's placed six feet under.

Everyone had already left the church, and I am the sole person who still remained there as I continued to kneel before the cross, muttering endless prayers that first came into my head endlessly, thinking that maybe I can stay this way forever. I then placed both my hands on the ornate carpet on the floor before standing up straight, sticking my forefinger, middle finger, and thumb of my right hand together. Following that, I raised my hand up and touched my forehead using those three fingers, then into my stomach, then into my right shoulder, and finally, into my left. I then kneeled on the ground again, touching the red carpet on the floor while mumbling a silent prayer to Mary, mother of God.

... You have become arrogant and have not mourned instead so that the one who had done this deed would be removed from your midst. For I, on my part, though absent in body but present in spirit, have already judged him who has so committed this, as though I were present. In the name of our Lord Jesus, when you are assembled, and I with you in spirit, with the power of our Lord Jesus, I have decided to deliver such a one to Satan for the destruction of his flesh, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus. Your boasting is not good. Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough?

That is a portion of the epistle I recited earlier, and up until now, I was still thinking about it as if it forcefully embedded itself into my head by the time the words thrust into the crevices of my shaken mind.

I have to leave this place.

I must check what had become of my master plan to silence my beating heart this very instance, lest I shall sleep on the carpets of this impeccable church that we had created for the glory of the Lord. Must I really sleep with such a troubled mind in this holiest of all holy places while gazing at the paintings of my One True God plastered on the walls, though? Am I strong enough to stare at the face of the woman who had given birth to Christ while knowing very well that I have done the unthinkable again?

Of course, I can!

But I can't possibly sleep well at night if I wouldn't be able to know if that woman finally hit the bucket!

Thus, I decided to go home. How else can I repent for myself if it is I whom the people seek to gain atonement for their sins? Yes, I shall go home and face the reality of what had happened.

I walked from the church towards my home that was placed a few meters away, merely a five-minute walk if I hastened my step.

My sweat started dripping uncontrollably as the people in my neighborhood greeted me one after another. 'Perhaps your cassock is making you sweat so much, father,' a woman said with perplexity as she looked at my pale face; 'perhaps you should mind your own business, lady,' I said within my head in response to her words, but in reality, I had said nothing to her.

Once I had arrived at my doorsteps, I heaved a heavy sigh while opening my door ever so gently while gently calling out the name of my wife, "Barbara?"

No answer. Good sign.

I heard the sound of water gushing out of the shower. Not a good sign.

I then saw a carton of milk placed on the brown wooden table in the kitchen. Did she not drink it after all? This is a bad sign. I know that the first thing Barbara would do in the morning is to take a huge gulp of her favorite fresh milk right after leaving the bedroom. That's why I placed what seemed like 70 tablets of the most potent sleeping pill I could find from somewhere far, far away.

"Barbara?" I silently called her name as I took the carton of milk on the table, thinking that maybe I should give it to her to finish the deed once and for all. "Are you still showering?"

No answer. Typical. She had stopped talking to me by the time she found out about my family business. I know that it was not necessarily something that could ruin marriages and careers, but when the said business involves murder and illegal drugs, then we're talking about something different in its entirety.

I then silently ambled towards the open door of the shower room, pushing it ever so gently while my hands shook so much that I almost dropped the carton. I slowly closed my eyes, expecting Barbara to throw something at me--something she had been doing for the past few weeks now once she realized what I had been doing.

However, even after thirty seconds have passed with my eyes tightly shut, no words or objects flew and smacked through my head. I gradually opened my eyes and what I saw instead is my wife, on the tiled floor, water still running out of the shower, with thick bubbles coming out of her mouth.

I sighed silently with a sunken expression as I threw the milk carton behind me, hitting the wall hard before it reached the floor with a thud. I then approached my wife and allowed myself to be wet by the showers a bit before closing it entirely. I heaved another bated breath before kneeling on the floor and touching the floor with both my hands.

After doing so, I stood up straight and placed my fingers on my forehead, "In the name of the father..."

Then my stomach, "And the son..."

Then into my right shoulder, "And the holy...

Before finally placing it into my left, "spirit."

Then I screamed as loud as I could with all the agony that I could possibly pull away from my gut.