Thinking back on the last few weeks, tears began to flow down her face. She was guilty, that was sure. And as she thought back, she realized she would not do it differently. Someone may have been able to stop her, but no one else had been there when she needed them for that.

The words of the judge echoed back to her, "You are sentenced to death for the murder of Machtor Sweet, your husband. May your god have mercy on your soul."

Her mind drifted back to that day...that awful day when she had finally had enough....

He had been drinking again and, as usual, on a rampage. Nothing was good enough for him: the house a mess, though she had scrubbed for hours; supper inedible, though he'd said last week it was his favorite; she had tried placating him--sometimes it worked. This time it didn't, and the beatings began.

She remembered it as a blur really, until that very moment when.....when things changed. She hadn't told him she was with child and when he punched her in the stomach, something happened inside of her mind. Something broke loose and much to the surprise of both of them she struck out, swinging the cast iron skillet that had been near at hand.

The contact jarred her from fist to spine and she watched him fall to the floor. She saw him twitch and, without thinking, she smashed his head in again and again....

She shuddered, remembering. She did not pray, thinking that in her case the judge's words were rhetorical. Her hand went to her belly. She had told no one about the child and suddenly wondered why...