Chapter 8 #2
I flip to the next page to find her leaning closely on the shoulder of a fellow student, with the original Priest Brown in the background, glaring.
I pull the page closer to my face, noticing a vein bulging from his forehead, and his jaw clenching tightly as he stares at the two girls.
He’s not smiling like he has been in every other picture, and I can’t help but hear the warning bells ring in my ears, observing the drastic change in his disposition as he stares at Milly.
To add to the alarm, the student Milly is leaning against has their face scratched out of the photo. Chills cascade over my body.
It would be wrong for me to assume that the girl next to her was potentially Milly’s lover based on the affectionate pose, but the demeanor of the priest connects the dots in my mind that perhaps the blog post that I found was not truly an ancient tale, but rather a suppressed truth of dark and ugly family history of the campus.
I have no right to be jealous of a photo, but my mind can’t help wondering if the girl next to her had been Milly’s lover.
I can’t help but wonder what happened all those years ago, and if the current priest knows the truth.
Part of me knows in my gut that Milly does.
I flip through the rest of that yearbook and see the priest smiling in every photo, except for that one with Milly.
I try to find other information on the campus in the other textbooks, but come up dry.
I draw a long breath as I lean back in the chair, frustrated that I can’t find anything outside of the stories of Hollowbrook’s endless devotion, exceptional education, and everything other than the dark secret I feel I am approaching.
I glance at my phone and see that I’ve been lost in these books for hours. I bring my shoulders back, cracking my spine and elbows from being in a stiff position for so long.
I peek around and find there are fewer students here studying, and quickly open the 1921 yearbook to the photo of Milly and the girl again.
I look around one last time as I rip the photo from its protective layer and place it gently in my back pocket.
I stand up, putting my bag on my back, snag all the books, and make my way back up to the level I found them.
I could easily place them on the reception table of the library to be put away by the staff, but I have a strong sense that anyone catching wind of what I’m trying to figure out would not be the right move.
I sneak up the staircases and around the corner when I overhear a stern voice. I freeze and swing my body behind one of the stacks, creeping slowly backwards into the shadows. I overhear Priest Brown slowly raise his voice to a harsh whisper.
“I don’t care what excuse you have. We must have her for the ritual next month.
Befriend her for all I care; it’s not like she will be around afterwards.
Let’s see you actually rise to the occasion and see to it that you find out.
If not, then we need to find our next sin.
I refuse to let the sins of this community taint what we have created here.
Our Father is demanding our next offering. ”
“Yes, sir,” I hear a soft, feminine voice respond with hesitation. “It’s just, there’s no proof that she’s actively sinning…in that way, Dad. I haven’t seen her once interact with anyone, let alone another girl in a sexual–”
“Damnit, Jocelyn,” he shouts as my eyes shoot open, and I press a hand to my mouth to silence my breathing. I finally recognize the feminine voice as my roommate.
He clears his throat, and I lean deeper into the shadows.
“I know for a fact she is a homosexual.” He says the word with blatant distaste.
“One of the greater sins a human can act upon. Her father has confided in me numerous times about her challenges with the same sex and expressed great hope that attending this campus will help open her relationship with God again. Unfortunately, her sin is one that is at too high a risk of polluting our susceptible community. You know how important it is that we maintain purity for Christ. I need unquestionable proof for the committee. Be sure to have it by next week. I will not ask you again. Do not be a disappointment like your mother was to me. She was a mistake to lie with, at least attempt to change my mind.”
I hear him shuffle away until all there is is a soft sniffle from Jocelyn. I hold my breath, waiting for her to step away. After what feels like forever, she leaves the area, and I sink against the wall and exhale a heavy breath.
I didn’t want to assume that Priest Brown carried on the potential sinister acts of his ancestor, but I would be a fucking fool not to trust the conversation I just overheard.
Especially one that just left me victim number one of their next ritual.
What rituals are even happening anyway? Is this a baptism against my will?
The blog mentioned disappearances, but I don’t want to find out the truth at the cost of my life.
I pull my phone out and look at the date: September 11th. I have 25 days to either prove myself as a properly holy student and bring down the Brown family name or find myself as some sort of sacrificial lamb for their bloodthirsty clergy.
I squeeze the books in my hands until they turn white. I’m tired of living in these shadows. I’m tired of hiding from my true identity. I’m sick and tired of being a fraud. I shove the books back into their places on the shelves and sneak out of the rows of books, checking that I’m alone.
Ending up at this school was the worst-case scenario, but I refuse to be silent any longer.
Overhearing that conversation ignited something within my spirit, a fire that refuses to be smothered.
I clench my jaw as I walk down the stairs of the library.
I’m going to need help to get the truth out there, and I know just the person.