Chapter 1
Blair
Earlier that day…
“Do you understand the meaning of your task today, sister?” Mother Superior Francis diligently asked, a line drawing between her brows as the wrinkles around her face showed less grace than she intended.
Pausing her stride right in front of me as we headed inside the prison’s visitor area. Her old grey eyes beaded into mine.
“Yes, Reverend Mother, I understand that we must bring prisoners to repentance and salvation.” I carefully repeated the words that had been ingrained in my mind for the past few days. Weeks. Months.
Becoming a nun was a discipline. Commitment. Obedience.
Strict, controlled desires, wants, and needs. Forgetting about who I was and changing who I am to be someone Ollie can be proud of.
My heart squeezed and released at the thought of him. Wondering what he was up to? Was he sleeping in his small little bed or jumping around? Was he smiling or crying? Was there anyone to comfort and hold him when he needed it?
Thoughts ran vivid, made me delirious and restless, and I couldn’t go a day without knowing of him.
She stopped and stared at me with a critical, almost judgmental gaze and took me out of my reminiscing as she nodded. “Exactly. Every man can be saved if he turns his heart to God and changes his ways,” she promptly followed.
To be saved, huh?
The seed of doubt stood planted in the back of my mind.
Wondering what salvation meant and looked like?
Was repentance enough to wash the blood off your hands?
With one word or prayer, could it dissolve your sins?
The guiltiness and dirt in your soul? How many times could we fall into temptation and still be forgiven?
When would God turn away from us? When would we feel good enough?
How did one know if it was enough?
I truly didn’t know.
Perhaps it was an answer I would find soon or one I would spend a lifetime on, as it appeared the most likely option since my training as a novice nun was coming to an end, and soon, in the next few weeks, I would be taking my final vows. Chaining me to this life and duty.
It was a huge decision.
One not taken lightly. One that has haunted my mind for the last few days, weeks, and months.
At one point, it brought great relief to my soul, knowing this was the only way I could atone for my sins; however, at the other end, it broke my heart to be apart from those I loved and to say “goodbye” to the girl I used to be and to conform and make myself into someone that God could love.
But what if it isn’t enough?
“Blair, do you hear me?” Mother Superior Francis snapped her fingers.
“Yes, sister,” I snarkily replied, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“Watch your tone. You have to set an example for these men,” her tone derogatory as she hovered closer to me, raising her hand and digging her nails into my shoulder deeply as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “So don’t rebel against me again and smile.”
Discomfort chafed against my skin, as I was prone to bruising easily.
This fucking— no Blair. Remember Matthew 5:39.
“But I say to you, do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”
No matter how “perfect” and “saintly” some people tried to be, they would just end up acting like the same sobby assholes found at the side of the New York City streets. No matter what they spew, people like her are more broken and full of hate than any person in this prison.
Sinners are condemned not only by their actions but also by their hearts.
That was one undisputed fact that couldn’t be changed.
A loud buzzer sound made me jump as the large steel security gate in front of us opened, a correctional officer waiting on the other side.
“Hello sisters, please right this way.” He signaled his hand forward, leading into the long hall where we passed the warden’s office, which appeared empty at the moment, before he allowed us to enter the first floor.
Hundreds of predatory and repulsing stares fell rough against my black ankle-length dress.
Underneath it I wore nothing more than a white long-sleeve shirt and my lacy underwear.
My hair was partially covered with a black veil, revealing my brunette fringe— the only reason I got away with it because I was still in training, or else I would have been punished.
Top it all off with a two-inch gothic black heel.
Hating in this moment to be blessed with a curvaceous shape that always got me too much attention. My ass unintentionally swayed side to side.
Passing through the passageway, men started howling, whistling, and catcalling— yelling all sorts of vulgar and crude things at me. Some even pounded against the railing to catch my attention— as if— I had better standards than to be with some prisoner.
The old Blair would have said “fuck you” and flaunted the ass they couldn’t have.
But now I was reforming myself, although it would take me a lot, and I mean a lot of time—maybe my whole fucking lifetime— to not want to do that. Instead, praying for them would be better.
“Pay them no mind.” She clicked her teeth. “Lust contaminates their hearts; therefore, they are too blinded to accept the Lord's ways.”
Not sure if that was a hundred percent true. I didn’t fight back.
Saying nothing, I only inclined my head to further control my emotions.
Instead, choose to observe the structure of the building.
It was a three-story premise with gray cemented floors, white moldy ceilings, and prison cells lining up the entire floor.
The infirmary is on the second floor, and the library is on the third floor.
More cells stacked on top of one another as the levels went up.
It all looked so mundane— lifeless— without a signal of hope in sight.
Rough tension built in my throat, making me feel nauseous.
It was like the light at the end of the tunnel was dissipating.
We reached the end of the hall, where there was a long, swirly metallic staircase that led to the upstairs floors.
“Come on then, let’s go to the third floor.” Sister Francis said, already starting her jog up like some Olympic athlete in her Nike sneakers.
“Um, why? Shouldn’t we start with the ones down here?” I asked curiously.
She shook her head dismissively. “Like I said, child, the sinners down here are already lost. There is no use in wasting time. The third floor has the calmest inmates, although they are the deadliest prisoners. They’re much more sophisticated and comprehensive and are willing to listen and pay heed.
It’s better to go where we can actually make a change. ”
Well, that’s not very nun-like.
What about all the talks of compassion, loving God, and others as they are? Where was that in this feeble woman’s heart?
If she has one.
Within the faith itself, there were so many people full of dichotomies that I didn’t even know how they considered themselves true believers.
There was wrong, and there was right. There was black and white, but it wasn’t just that.
The world was filled with intermixing grays that made us perfectly imperfect.
“Well, don’t just stand there, Blair. Let’s go.” She snapped her fingers again.
Having no other choice but to follow right behind her, I began my ascent up the stairs.
About ten minutes after a thousand steps, we arrived on the third floor.
My calves were on fire, my head was light, and sweat broke out against the temple of my head while I heaved heavily.
Meanwhile, Sister Francis was unfazed as she checked her watch, and the corner of her lips lifted.
Like she had accomplished her mandatory ten thousand steps a day.
“H-how—how d-o you—” I wheezed, trying to ask her how she had the energy to do that.
“Oh child, you’ll get used to it. By the time you’re my age, it’ll be like clockwork.” She then clapped her hands methodically. “Now, now then, let’s get to work. Salvation won’t wait forever.”
By the looks of it and at the rate she was going, she would meet the Lord soon enough. If she didn’t kill me first with these mandated exercises.
Even with my feet throbbing, my tight chest, and my cheeks flustered hot, I proceeded forward.
Following right behind her as she passed the first few cells, which just had inmates sleeping or reading, and on the fourth cell she pivoted her foot, stopping straight in front of metallic bars.
Where there was a man kneeling, his back to us as he recited a specific prayer meant for the season of Lent, also known as Easter.
“Amen,” Reverend Mother repeated with him, finishing the prayer and making the cross.
The man who carried salt n’ pepper hair turned around with an enigmatic expression before ease surrounded the creases of his eyes. “Sister Francis, welcome back. How are you doing?”
She gave one of her rare smiles. “It’s nice to see you keeping your promises and acting on your faith, Tomaso.”
“Faith is a beautiful thing when you turn your heart over to God completely. He saves us all even if we’re from different paths.
Even if we don’t know that we need it— when we don’t deserve it.
But he never gives up on you.” Tomaso’s wisdom was touching.
To see a man like him who, although he was a criminal, sought to right his wrongs and make amends.
Sister Francis tilted her head in acknowledgment of his words. “That you are right about. That’s what I’m trying to show our newest member, Blair.”
“Hello,” I waved at him.
“Hello. Let me tell you, Blair, you look like you can inspire and change many hearts. Especially like the guy down there.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Reverend Mother and I simultaneously asked, side-eyeing each other afterwards.