by Lily Miles
“You wretched girl!” shrieks the mother superior, “You had carnal knowledge of a man in our sacred church? You defiled our holiest of sanctuaries?”
“That’s not all I did in there,” I taunt her, remembering the self-pleasuring appetizer I enjoyed there, before Trevor introduced me to the far more delicious—and meaty—main course.
Mother Antonia drags in a heaving breath, stepping sideways so she can press a hand against the wall to steady herself. I’ve literally thrown her off balance. She’d thought surely the first girl to pull something like this would be Catherine, but instead it was me. Something about that thought inflates me even more, and my grin just widens.
I have faith that the mother superior will not get away with locking me up. Trevor wouldn’t stand for it. But more importantly, I won’t stand for it. I’ve spent my entire life sitting pretty like a doll on a shelf, doing as I’m told and only caring what authority figures think. But now, I’m weak and frozen no more, and so help me God, I will not be tyrannized!
“How could you do this to yourself?” Mother Antonia cries out, her tone bitter with condemnation. “Your virginity was your only value, and now you’re worthless both to me and in the eyes of your Heavenly Father!”
“I am not worthless,” I whisper back. Though my voice is quiet and I cup my aching cheek, my eyes blaze fiercely. “If there is a God, he will love me as I am, whether I’ve slept with Trevor or not! You can’t keep me cooped up here. I'm getting out of this hellhole, one way or another!”
“If there is a God?” Mother Antonia shrieks. “How dare you, you blasphemous whore!” she screams, finally losing her last measure of control. She lunges at me and grabs me roughly by the shoulders, shaking me. I don’t hit her back or shove her—leering into her face is so much more effective. “You ungrateful, spoiled bitch! I gave you a home here, a bed. I fed you. I cared for you. And this is how you repay me?”
I don’t flinch when Mother Antonia’s hands move down, fingers digging into my upper arms. My lip curls in disdain as I deliver my own shock and awe. “Your title may be that of ‘Mother Superior,’ Antonia, but don’t kid yourself, there’s nothing maternal about you. You’re not capable of nurturing and comforting, only damage and destruction. And as for the “superior” part, superior to whom—a serial killer?”
She slaps me again, harder, but I refuse to stagger this time.
“We’ll just see how you feel after a week of being locked up here alone without food and water, Sister Margaret!” Mother Antonia snarls. “You’ll change your tune—they always do.”
My knees tremble slightly but I straighten up even more. My own outrage has given me all the strength I need. “You can’t keep me locked here forever. I’m going to leave and when I do, I'm going to go back to Trevor. I want his hands on me, Mother Antonia, all over me.” And knowing it will infuriate her even more, I say, licking my lips dramatically, “I want him to fuck me day and night—that’s a heaven you’ll never know.”
Mother Antonia shrieks and covers her ears, but I keep talking. She will no longer be able to silence me. I’ve found my voice and my passion, and I'm going to pursue them forever.
“I will get out of here. I will live my life. You can’t control me!” I shout, even as Henry starts trying to hush me.
I don’t care if I have to claw my way out of here, I'm getting back to Trevor and getting out of this place for good!
38
Trevor
Catherine wrings her hands, talking so rapidly that she trips over her words. Her face is pale, her glassy eyes wide and distraught. As much as I adore Maggie, I can tell that Catherine cherishes her just as much, and is equally worried about her safety.
I have to get Maggie away from Henry and Mother Antonia. I’ve met a lot of bad people in my life, but Mother Antonia really tops them all.
There’d been a part of me that’d wanted to furiously shake Sister Eva even more than I did, but I know what I have to focus on right now is finding Maggie and getting her the hell out of here. Besides, all my energy needs to be devoted to saving her, not to retaliating against one of her sisters. Anyway, Eva is just another victim of Mother Antonia’s, if a more willing one.
“Is my kitchen a damn train station?” Erik grumbles with a roll of his eyes, watching Catherine and I discuss our plan of attack.
Catherine shoots him a withering look. After awkwardly clearing his throat, he quiets, and turns back to preparing the special croissants he makes for Sunday breakfast.
“Do you remember the room way upstairs I sent you to before? The one where you and Maggie met earlier. That’s where she’s being held, I'm sure of it,” Catherine explains hastily, dragging in a shallow breath. “We’ve got to go get her, Trevor. We can’t wait any longer.”
I grasp her shoulders and shake my head. She stares at me, her face agitated with frustration. “Trevor, we don’t have time to just talk anymore!”
“Catherine, no,” I interrupt. “We don’t have to go get her. I do. You can’t be any more involved in this than you already are. It’s clear to me now how dangerous your mother superior is, and I'm not going to let you or any of the other people at this convent get in trouble for the choices that Maggie and I made. Once she and I are gone, I want to make sure there will be no one else for Mother Antonia to blame.”
“But, Trevor …” Catherine whispers, biting her lip. “Maggie is my best friend. I can’t just sit by and do nothing.”
Eva emerges from the back of the room, trembling. Erik watches us with interest, sitting on a stool like he was settling down to watch a television show. She swallows hard, making a point of not looking at me—I think she’s afraid of me.
“… I know something you can do, Sister Catherine,” she announces quietly.
“Why should we believe you, Eva?” snarls Catherine, stalking towards her like a lion hunting its prey. Eva’s chin dips towards her chest. “You were the one that got Maggie into this position in the first place! You took her to Henry and let him take her!”
Annoyance crosses Eva’s face and for a second, I think she’s contemplating just turning and leaving. Instead, she begins to speak. “I got in over my head, Catherine. I didn't realize how bad this was going to get. I made a mistake. I have no interest in being your friend or in ever helping you again, but this one time I can make an exception.”
“Go with Eva, Catherine,” I tell the blue-eyed nun. “Like you said, we have to move now and I believe her. I don’t know why, but I do. Don’t worry, I'm going to get Maggie. She’s going to be okay.”
Catherine stares at me with pleading eyes, giving me one last chance to change my mind and allow her to come with me into the passage. When I say nothing, she flings herself against me and holds on tight.
“You take her as far from here as you can, okay? And I swear if I hear you’ve so much as made her cry one drop of sadness, I’ll make you regret it,” she says, sniffling and stepping back from me.
I open the passage door and take one step in, smiling back at Catherine. “Don’t worry. From this point onward, every single one of her days will be happier than the last. I promise you that.”
Catherine’s chin dips in a shallow nod. She stares after me as I rush down the passage, until Eva grabs her hand, dragging her out of the kitchen.
Up ahead, I hear angry voices. Though they would be muffled in the main building, in this passage they seem amplified. There’s Mother Antonia’s voice, shrill and demanding; Henry’s quiet and forceful way of speaking; and then Maggie’s rising above both of theirs.
My heart races, feet pounding against the stone floor. She’s so close.
When I reach the small door, the open lock dangles from the latch. Assuming the door is open I push it, but it doesn’t budge. With a roar, I charge at it with all of my might—dust and nails and shards of wood fly through the air. Mother Antonia whirls, shocked to see me.
“Stop him!” shrieks the mother superior. “He’s going to try and take the gi
rl!”
Henry staggers forward, one of his fists pulled back, but I let my own fist fly first.
I grew up in tough homes and tough situations, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to defend myself. This catches Henry by surprise and my clenched fist collides with his soft nose, crushing it with ease. He groans in pain, holding his face, and falls over backward while I turn to Maggie.
Mother Antonia stares at me, her jaw dropped and gaping like a fish, but I ignore her and sweep Maggie up into my arms. She beams at me proudly, her entire body shaking but with a radiant smile on her face.
“It’s you,” she whispers before I lift her up in my arms to press my mouth eagerly to hers. If possible, this kiss is even sweeter than our last. Our sweetest ever, in fact.
“We have to go!” Maggie cries urgently against my lips.
I turn back towards the passageway but Mother Antonia lumbers into my way, desperately scratching and clawing at me. “Put the girl down, you brute!” she screams, “She belongs to me!”
Before I can react, Maggie kicks out one of her legs, squarely planting her foot on the mother superior’s chest. “I don’t belong to anyone, Antonia! Least of all, you!” she shouts as she forcefully shoves Mother Antonia with her foot. The reverend mother staggers backwards and crashes in a heap on the floor.
Dodging Mother Antonia—who’s sobbing and struggling to get her stout body up off the floor—and the passageway door leading back to the kitchen, I run past Henry’s still-crumpled body to kick open the room’s regular door and descend down the stairs to the second floor of the nunnery.
A few of the older sisters, drawn out to the hallway by the noise, watch us in shock as we hustle by. I have to get us out of here fast. I know Henry and Mother Antonia are going to be right behind us. I can already hear them moving, Henry’s clumsy feet storming down the stairs, while Mother Antonia frantically shrieks behind him, “Stop them!”
Catherine’s voice suddenly ripples down the hallway, and my head twists in that direction. She’s walking towards us with a tall, white-haired man.
“And if you come this way, Your Excellency,” Catherine says airily, “our ever dutiful Mother Superior is having a private meeting with one of our sisters—oh my!” Catherine gasps when she sees us, playing the part of stunned, saintly nun more flawlessly than any Hollywood actress could.
Bishop Frederick gapes at me carrying Maggie dressed in just my ripped shirt, just as Henry bursts into view behind me, holding his nose as blood spews between his fingers. Then Mother Antonia comes barreling to a stop behind him, red-faced and furious.
I don’t hesitate even a second and, my adrenaline pumping, look wildly around for an escape route.
Then, my eyes lock on the nearby open laundry chute where Sister Monica stands, caught between staring at us, open mouthed, and stuffing a last-minute load of clothes down for tonight’s weekly pickup. That’s it, the chute—it’s our only chance.
39
Bishop Frederick delicately wraps an arm around the trembling and sweet-faced Sister Catherine, turning her towards him so that he can cover her eyes to prevent the innocent nun from having to witness such crude behavior as has just been displayed.
Catherine gives a choked sob and collapses against him, tearfully wailing with just the right amount of tears.
“What is going on?” Sister Catherine cries. “This is … this is truly indecent!”
“I agree, my child!” growls the bishop, scowling intently at the mother superior and the man nearby. Never before had he seen such behavior in a sacred convent.
He steps in the way as the reverend mother attempts to give chase to the two receding figures, who dash around a corner of the hallway. “Mother Superior Antonia!” he admonishes her loudly, his face pale as a sheet.“What on earth is going on here? Someone gets this man a doctor!” One of the equally shocked older sisters hastens away to find Dr. Cliff.
“It’s … it’s all because of Sister Ruth!” cries Mother Antonia, flustered and stammering. She is not used to being caught off guard and unprepared. This was not at all the scene that she wanted the bishop to see when he arrived. How had everything gone so terribly wrong? “This is all that dreadful woman’s fault!” she sputters. “As I explained to you before, it’s Sister Ruth’s teachings that have gotten the girls to behave so sinfully.”
Bishop Frederick blinks unconvinced eyes. He looks down at the quivering lips of the sweet young woman in his arms. Catherine gives a small shake of her head, clutching to his robes. “Sister Ruth is a beacon of light in this blasphemous world, sir. She keeps us strong and guides us steadfastly towards our blessed futures of service to our Lord and Savior.”
The bishop nods and releases the charming nun. “Of course, Sister. Please, go. Be free of this situation.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency. I’ll go to my prayers,” Catherine says with a gracious nod of her head.
Heading down the hall, she takes a few steps behind the bishop, then turns around, shooting Mother Antonia a triumphant smirk that makes the reverend mother’s blood boil.
Dr. Cliff comes running down the hallway. He takes in the sight of Henry and his bloody nose, almost wishing it were he who had the honor of inflicting such damage. He then shakes his head and pushes that thought aside. After all, his duty is to heal, not wish harm, even on men as weird as Henry. Cliff unwraps a gauze bandage from its package and gives it to Henry, instructing him to press it on his nose to stop the bleeding.
Bishop Frederick turns to Mother Antonia. “Do you still say this commotion is the fault of Sister Ruth?” he asks dryly, glowering at the mother superior.
She bites her lip and gives a faint nod. “I know how this must look, Your Excellency, but really, you need to expel Sister Ruth from the convent. She’s only going to continue to make it impossible for me to keep the young sisters on the path of righteousness.”
Bishop Frederick tips his head back and mutters a quick prayer to the Heavenly Father, requesting patience. He’d come here hoping to have a nice chat with the sisters and staff, and announce some exciting changes to the convent, and instead he had to deal with childish issues among catty women. This is why he rarely visits the convents, there’s always something going on. The monks’ monasteries were far less irritating.
“Really, Mother Antonia? You’re going to stick to that claim? Because when I arrived, Sister Ruth was greeting the laundrymen and going about the tasks that you had set out for her. Yet judging by the long list of duties you’ve unfairly assigned that poor woman, I doubt she has time to even say her evening prayers. Are you really going to say she had a hand in any of this?”
The mother superior pales, grasping at every rebuttal she could think of, yet unable to come up with something that would convince him. Her eyes drift down the hall, wondering just how far Sister Margaret and that beast of a young gardener had gotten.
Having lost her bid to condemn Ruth, she seizes on a strategy to salvage her reputation, which is all she can fight for, at this point. “I was trying to protect my nun’s purity,” Mother Antonia states gravely. With exaggerated drama she drags in a shuddering breath and clasps her hands in front of her breast. “Sister Margaret is young and has no one but me to look out for her. Was that so wrong, Your Excellency?”
Bishop Frederick gives a slight sigh, his irate face softening. “Of course not, Mother Antonia. I understand where you’re coming from. I don’t doubt your dedication to the protection of the women in your convent. Come. We need to discuss this further, away from the nuns’ ears.”
He walks over to Mother Antonia and gently puts an arm around her shoulder, as easily swayed by her fake appeal as he was by Catherine’s. The mother superior dabs at her eyes and nods, gesturing towards Henry.
“He heard the commotion and came to assist me. He got into a fight with the young man who took Sister Margaret from the convent. How is he, Doctor?” she asks.
Dr. Cliff clears his throat and nods his head. “He’l
l be just fine. There’s no need to worry,” he says with a polite grin. Cliff had considered straightening the bone back into place, but he didn't want to touch Henry, and Henry didn't seem to want Cliff to touch him, either. So, instead, Cliff just stood at his side and helped him stanch the bleeding.
“Let’s head to your office, Mother Antonia, so we can chat,” Bishop Frederick says, guiding the woman towards the stairs. “I’ll bring in Sister Ruth, as well, to get more of the details of what happened here.”
Ruth, hearing her name from upstairs, tips her head curiously towards the stairs before checking her watch. She frowns slightly, biting the corner of her mouth just as Erik rounds the corner and approaches her.
Though Erik frequently rubbed the nuns and staff members of the convent the wrong way with his prickly demeanor, when it came to Sister Ruth, he was as sweet as any grandson might be, despite their lack of blood relations.
“The laundry guy is getting a little impatient, I think,” he says, hands on his hips as he looks at the oversized cart of dirty clothing. “He says he’s getting behind schedule.”
Suddenly, above both of their heads, there’s a thunderous sound inside the laundry chute. Erik lurches to the side, staring at the chute with alarm.
“Did you hear that?” he gasps, noticing with amazement the way Sister Ruth doesn’t even flinch.
She giggles and beams at him, shrugging her shoulders. “Oh, dear. You know my hearing isn’t what it used to be. I didn't hear a thing.”
Funny, Erik thought, he’d never noticed Ruth having an issue hearing anyone before. In fact, Sister Ruth seemed almost perfectly healthy in every way, despite the occasional stiffness in her knees.
Just as she finished speaking, behind her two bodies tumbled out of the chute and deep into the laundry cart, landing softly among the clothes to be washed. Erik stared behind her, his jaw dropped, but Ruth just blinked innocently and gestured towards the cart.
