Page 13 of The Fallen

Seven Days Until Game Night

Cold sunlight streams in through my windows, waking me from my fitful sleep. Last night was awful. The worst sleep I’ve ever gotten. Once the calmness wore off from my release, the enormity of what I did crashed in around me. But there was nowhere I could go. I was sent to my room and forbidden to speak to anyone.

Forbidden.

That word slithers through my brain, drawing a shiver from my body that has little to do with the cold. As I rise and dress, my stomach growls, reminding me of the lack of food from yesterday. What little good the fasting did me. All it did was add to my misery and not bring my reflection back to God.

Rubbing my abdomen, I dress quickly and tidy up my room. There’s still so much to be done before breakfast, including the confession I’m dreading. Suppose he makes me go another day without eating? Unfortunately, since this is my first time being punished this way, I have no idea what to expect.

Off to the side, I see the bottle of pills the Sister gave me yesterday. The last thing I need to do is forget a task and add to the punishment. Dropping a pill into my hand, I get some water from my bathroom sink and swallow it down.

A restless energy slithers over me as I sit by the window and stare out onto the bare grass. I am supposed to commit myself to private prayer, but I find it far too hard to concentrate. Thankfully, the desire to touch myself is far from me. For the moment, at least.

The instant the bells toll, I shoot out of my chair and make my way to the confessional booth in the chapel. Unlike the trek we make through the field every morning, this way is quicker. Honestly, I have no idea why we take the long route, but it must be something to do with our communion with God.

Unfortunately for me, I don’t have time to contemplate Him. Not if I want to make it to the chapel early. Hopefully, he’ll be there. From what I’ve heard from the other Sisters, he’s usually not, but something in my gut tells me I have to try.

The halls are empty as I make my way toward inevitable punishment. If I’m lucky, taking this to the confessional will cause the punishment to be less severe. I don’t remember seeing anything like a bed or desk he could bend me over. Besides, he’s the one who said he didn’t want to see me in his chambers again. I’m only doing as he asked.

Rationalizing. It’s exactly what I’m doing. However, it’s the only thing propelling me forward, forcing my feet one before the other. The chapel is empty, giving me a slight sense of relief, but then, so is the confessional booth.

I still make my way and sit inside, closing the door behind me. Perhaps he’ll see and come down. My knees jiggle up and down as I wait there, ticking the seconds off in my head. I need him to see me before the general confession during Mass. I need this absolved, so the others don’t know I’ve sinned yet again.

If they see me refuse communion, they’ll know. They might even force me from their doors, since I seem unable to comply with the simplest of tasks. That is, if they even get the chance. Father Draven might make that decision for them.

I sit there in the silence, my brain coming up with all manner of worst-case scenarios when the door to the other side clicks shut. As the Father Confessor slides the partition open between us, I let my breath out in a whoosh as I cross myself.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been...” I pause for a moment as I think of how to word this. “Less than a day since my last confession.”

“And what is it you need to confess?” His voice sounds ragged and worn, weary almost.

Blinking through the grate, I try to see his face. Concern swamps my senses for a moment. Is it because of me? Am I causing this?

“Your confession?” he repeats himself. “Or shall I make a guess? You were unable to keep your hands to yourself after your last punishment?”

Is it me? Or is there a sense of smug satisfaction in his tone? It can’t be. That’s impossible. The Father Confessor wouldn’t find delight in my sin.

“You guessed correctly. Please forgive me. I- I haven’t the faintest notion why I struggle this way.”

“Are you taking the pills you were prescribed?”

“Yes. I took one first thing this morning. Will they help reduce the urges?”

“Not quite, but they are designed to keep this abbey safe from any... shall we say... violence to your desires.”

I sit back in the chair as shock washes over me. “Violence? I’m not a violent person.”

“You may think that now, but if your body enters a heat and there is no Alpha there to break it, who knows what you mightdo? As your Priest, I cannot assist you. So it is good you have these defenses in place.”

His words make no sense to me, but all I can do is trust. With a heavy sigh, I lean back toward the partition. “I… I really tried. But yesterday-”

“Was a mistake. I paid the price as well as you. I suppose since I am somewhat at fault for your regression last night, it’s only fair that I make this punishment less severe. Pray until Mass then join the others. Keep your fingers to yourself.”

“I- I don’t have to fast?”

His soft chuckle sends tendrils of need curling through my body, nearly derailing the reason I’m here in the first place. “No. You may eat with the others.”

“Thank the Lord.”

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