The church was too quiet. The kind that left one unsettled and mentally sullied with inner monologues that refuted the existence of silences like these. He could hear his heart beating, the blood in his veins throbbing. His throat too, when he swallowed, made a sound that seemed loud as a bell in the otherwise silent church. But then, there, a voice. Small and needy, and not at all like the Vanessa he knew. The prayer, while unknown to him, was realized to be Latin. It took some investigating to determine the direction of origin, but he soon approached the confessionals.
There was weeping, that was apparent. A woman within, but was it Vanessa? His heart told him yes, but Victor remained apprehensive when he drew closer. He paced outside of the closed box, fingers worrying at the handle of his medical bag. He couldn't know for certain that it was Vanessa, and even if it was, was it proper to interrupt her prayers(despite the obvious factor that nobody was listening)?
He cleared his throat and decided to knock. Yes, knocking was good. Proper. Polite. Tap, tap.