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It’s only been a year since I took my final vows, but I’ve already strayed so far from God’s path that I don’t know how I will ever find it again.
Mother Superior Francesca Merlo transferred to our convent six months ago, after Mother Charity passed unexpectedly in her sleep at just sixty years old. I’ve felt strange ever since – I’m just not certain what it is about her presence that makes me feel that way. On her first day here, she explained that she’d come from an Italian abbey where she’d served as the Abbess for nearly fifteen years prior. How that was even possible, I couldn’t understand – She doesn’t look a day over forty, she can’t possibly be old enough to have served so long, can she? When I had worked up the courage to ask her how old she was that same evening, she’d told me she wasn’t the sort to answer frivolous questions and that I would do well to remember that. Then, she strode off, muttering something I’ve always assumed was a curse word under her breath in her native tongue. I had thought that she was terrifying. But then, over the coming months, I realized that I hardly saw her outside of prayers. Not at mealtimes, not for work duties – on occasion, she would make an appearance to meet with the priests, but apart from that? Almost never. I began to think of her more as an odd recluse than a source of terror. Still, there was something about her that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end whenever she looked my way. I haven’t the faintest idea why she made me feel that way – I can hardly remember interacting with her after that first meeting, and certainly not in a way that would warrant that sort of reaction.
Our last Mother Superior had been so involved that it was rare anything around the convent escaped her attention. Perhaps that was why I’d been so drawn to sin since Mother Francesca’s arrival. I had gotten away with it so many times, it had stopped occurring to me that I could be caught. But as it so often goes when one forgets their caution, I was caught. And before I know it there’s a hand gripping my arm and dragging me out of the dormitory and into the dark hallways of the convent proper. Sister Catherine tells me it’s her duty to bring me before Mother Superior. That she’s to tell her everything she knows about my sins. “For penance,” she says. “For the sake of your soul,” she says.
Once Sister Catherine shuts the door, leaving us alone in the convent’s main office, I realize my judgement of the woman was right the first time. Terrifying was perhaps an understatement. Mother Francesca stands tall before me in her full habit, eyes burning with rage, barking commands before I’ve even had the chance to beg forgiveness - “On your knees, Sister Grace!”
I try to protest - “Reverand Mother, I- “- A sharp crack rings out as she smacks me hard across the cheek. It burns like wildfire, but I keep the hurt close, I know it won’t do me any good to show it.
Mother Francesca is so close I can smell her sweet, cloying perfume – Perfume? But we’re not allowed perfume. “The Lord has no patience for your excuses, girl, now- “
Without thinking, I plead - “But I can explain! Please, just-“ Her hand darts out and wraps around my throat, nails digging into my skin – When she pulls my gaze up to meet her own, a sudden shiver rolls up my spine. Then the pain hits – like someone’s driving sharpened spikes through my skull, one by one, growing worse by the second. I gasp, try to shut my eyes, but it’s like some impossible force holds me stiff in place. I try to reach for my rosary – my hands are just as useless. What is this?!
This time, her voice feels different – there’s a power behind it that drills every word she says straight to the deepest part of my mind. “You’re going to listen to me now.” And with that, it’s the only thing I can hear. The room falls silent around me. Inhaling sharply, I suddenly realize I can’t even hear the sound of my own breathing. My thoughts swirl, I can’t make sense of them. When Mother Superior commands me again, my body follows - “On. Your. Knees.” She releases me and I drop to the floor, puppeteered by the same force holding me still before. “Stay right there, this will only take a moment.”
I try to move again the second she walks behind me, but I’m struck with another splitting pain in my head in response. My thoughts, at least, seem to return to me once she’s out of my sight – Is this some sort of divine punishment? Lord, if I had known how I wronged you I would have never- A scream I can’t hear is ripped from my throat by the lash of a whip across my back, hateful stinging left behind in its wake. “For your insolent behavior in my office tonight. Do you understand?” I still can’t move, can’t speak. She shifts in front of me, gaze locking with my own once more. “You may speak when you’re spoken to, Sister Grace.”
It's like my jaw has a weight lifted off it, I can suddenly hear my own breathing again - I try to say something – “I d-“ Think before you speak this time. “I understand.”
“Good. Lie down.” The last two words send a burning pain shooting down my spine. I try to fight the urge to move, struggling against the unseen force pushing me to the ground – I don’t understand, what’s happening to me? It’s no use. I’m on my back, trembling, cornered like a scared rat. “Sister Catherine was less than clear about what she found you doing in the dormitories. She would only say that it was a violation of your vow of chastity.” My cheeks flush and every part of me screams to hide my shame, but I’m stuck in place, staring up at her pathetically.
“I didn’t mean to-“
“Perhaps I should have spoken more clearly – I’m asking WHAT you’ve done, not if you meant to do it.” Condescension drips off her every word, only feeding the pit of shame in my chest.
It’s my duty to confess, isn’t it? That’s how we find forgiveness through our faith. I take a deep breath, steeling myself – “I…” I’m too weak. My voice trails off, the pit in my chest dropping suddenly into my stomach – I feel sick. “I was…” My thoughts swirl, body shakes – I can’t say it, I can’t bear to-
Mother Superior sighs impatiently, “If you’re too cowardly to confess your sins, you’ll have to show me what you’ve done. We’ll see how you bear that instead.” Wha- “No more questions. Lift your nightgown.” My hands move of their own accord, hiking the gown up to just below my waist, legs exposed to the drafty air of the office. “Don’t test my patience, girl – pull it all the way up.” Shaking, I pull it up to expose my underwear – still damp from my earlier exertions. Why is she looking at me like that? A smile creeps into the corner of the woman’s lips, new excitement blazing behind her eyes – “Now, show me what you’ve been doing to get Sister Catherine so flustered.” I can’t! Not when there’s someone watching- Francesca’s voice booms out, all the stoic tone of command replaced with an angry growl - “Then you should have thought of that before you defiled yourself in your dormitory like a filthy slut – SHOW ME!”
Tears streaming down my cheeks, I slide a still-shaking hand under my waistband – “Please don’t make me do this-“ I can’t really make sense of what it is she’s doing to me – But it’s her, I know it’s her doing this somehow! - the weight of that impossible force pushes back against my struggling. I’m pushed lower still, tracing over the length of my slit with my fingertips, whining softly – “I’ll repent, I promise, just don’t make me do this, please?” My pleading only seems to make her smile grow wider. My heart drops, stomach twisting itself into a knot, body betraying me with a wetness I never asked for growing stronger by the second – This isn’t about penance at all, is it?
“It never has been.” This woman is no sister; she speaks with the voice of the devil! He’s come to test my faith! “It took you quite some time to figure that out. But then – you’ve never been a very bright girl, have you?” Ripping off her veil, Francesca pounces – she’s on top of me faster than the eye can follow, as if she moves by magic - “You really think the devil has any interest in a pathetic little thing like you? No, I don’t think so.” The heat between my legs is too much to bear, the force guiding my hand too strong to keep fighting - I slip a finger inside myself. The false Mother caresses my cheek, I cry out in shock - her hands are like ice! Leaning in close to my ear, her voice a sickly, teasing whisper - “Don’t be shy, let’s see another. I know you’ve been giving yourself more than that in your bunk at night.” The second slides in beside it, then a third – aching, burning – God forgive me, I can’t stop- “Not until I tell you to.”
She kisses me then, just below the ear, her breath like winter wind against my neck. One of her too-cold hands wraps over the one she’s commanded to ruin me, pressing my own fingers deeper inside me. My heart pounds with fear, my mind is sick with it – my body betrays me, pressing into her touch - “W-Why are you doing this?” I manage to choke out through the haze of sensation slowly consuming me. “AH! Stop – that’s too deep! It hurts, please-“
“Shhhhhh.” My words die in my throat – “That’s much better.” I try to speak again and choke, cough – Is this some kind of witchcraft?! “Of a sort.” Her lips trail down my neck, resting at my pulse point. I can feel my heartbeat flying ever-faster as she whispers– “Don’t worry, cara mia – this will only hurt for a moment.”
The ice suddenly splits my skin – I can’t scream. The sensation creeps outward from my neck – I try to see what’s happening, but I can’t move my head. Tears streak down my face, my breath ragged as she suddenly releases my hand, tracing around my most sensitive point in light, practiced circles that pry out a pleading whimper against my will– Please, don’t make me -I can’t –
Francesca lifts her head to look at me- blood, deep red, staining her lips and dripping down her chin. Flashing a feral fanged grin, she simply says – “You can, and you will. Just like you always do for me.”
Her teeth tear back into my flesh – my fingers curl inside me, movement slowing as the icy chill spreads from the bite down my spine. I try to protest in my thoughts again, but nothing comes, words swirling by too quickly to cling to. My eyes flutter shut, and I’m struck with visions of her face stained with blood a dozen times over – my body pressed forward into the altar, her cold lips sucking at a vein between my legs – her voice, her command once I’ve finished to leave and forget. I remember then why it’s her face I think about whenever I give in to temptation. “Let me hear you while you come for me-“
I scream her name when I come undone, clenching, thrusting into myself guided by some unseen force – it’s all too much, I beg for relief – “Please, no more-“ But she just laughs, running her tongue over the oozing bite on my neck to clean off the last of the blood. I still can’t stop, I scream again but she claps her hand over my mouth, still slick with my own shame –
“There. Now you can stop.” – In an instant, the pain in my head disappears along with the force driving me. I pull my fingers out of myself, panting, and fall back limp to the floor – I still can’t think. All I can do is stare up at her helplessly as she stands above me and gives me another of those fanged smiles. Francesca offers me her frigid hand, and I let her pull me to my feet, flinching when she leans in to lay a kiss on my cheek. “You’ll forget about this until next time, of course - but you were exquisite, as always.” Before I can speak, a spike splits my skull again and everything goes dark.
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I wake up at dawn to the sound of Sister Catherine calling for us, same as I do every day. Dizzy, thoughts scattered by sleep, I pull myself up off of my cot and gather my habit to dress myself. My head pounds, stomach churning - I half wonder if maybe something I ate at dinner last night sat poorly with me. Of course, the other half of me wonders if feeling like this is some sort of divine punishment. It’s only been a year since I took my final vows, but I’ve already strayed so far from God’s path that I don’t know how I will ever find it again.
Mother Superior Francesca Merlo transferred to our convent six months ago, after Mother Charity passed unexpectedly in her sleep at just sixty years old. I’ve felt strange ever since – I’m just not certain what it is about her presence that makes me feel that way…