Chapter 2
TWO
SIN
M assive mahogany doors, towering ten feet high, swing open to reveal two lines of girls, spanning from toddlers to teenagers, flanking the entrance.
As I step inside, their eyes follow me with apprehension. My leather shoes tread over the timeless marble floors. I brush the soles against the welcome mat to shake off water from the rain.
"Here, sir!" One of the girls hurries over, taking my matte black blazer.
The older nun makes it her mission to keep eyes on me, sliding in beside my steps as I walk down the foyer. She's surely getting me away from the children. Fine by me; the only children in this world I tolerate are my little cousins in Italy.
I nod appreciatively, skimming my gaze along the dark wooden trim. Places aren’t built like this anymore; nowadays, the same shit is thrown up that will never last, but this kind of engineering exceeds far past the creator’s lifetime .
You could hear a pin drop in here, deafening silence stretches out. Uninviting me.
This quiet holds its own weight, pressing gently around me as I move.
"This,"—she gestures to her right—"is the dayroom."
I look inside, noting the complete absence of daylight in this so-called dayroom. Though there are a couple of windows, natural light seems to struggle for space against the charcoal walls. Three red velvet couches stand in the center.
This is exactly my type of décor.
"Where will my money be going?" I grow curious, wondering if this room will have more windows put in, possibly a few more chairs for reading.
The first real smile I've seen spreads over her face, wrinkles stretching her thin skin. "We're allocating it into three places."
We descend further down the hall, slipping through a winding curve to the kitchen.
"Proper equipment for feeding the children." She nods to the old stainless-steel stove. "This was donated decades ago, but it can't keep up." Boring. I would kick the children out and turn this place into something more... fun. So much potential lies within these ancient walls.
"And the second?" I ask, running a hand through my hair. It's slicked back now, dampened from the rain.
As she leads down the hall, her black robe sways behind her. My lips curl into a grin; she reminds me of a certain misunderstood professor, although I don’t think this woman is misunderstood at all. She seems to run this house efficiently, leaving minimal room for fun or play. I would be humbled by my childhood, if it wasn’t stolen from me so viciously. We pass a few more rooms, an expansive dining area with a table that could easily seat fifty.
Paintings and photographs line a narrow corridor, the light warm and dim. "Sorry it's so dark! We're going to be renovating into LED lighting soon," she says.
She can't see, but I shake my head. "I wouldn't dare put that God-awful lighting in this place." It’s all about ambient lighting. Who wants to walk into their living room and be blasted with gaudy, artificial light like they’ve stepped into a grocery store or hospital?
She slows her steps, wanting to turn around and scold me, no doubt. But she thinks it over for a second, deciding on forgiveness instead of reprimanding me. Fitting.
My attention is drawn to an ink-black room, likely where the nuns handle their paperwork. It would serve as a fantastic office.
She quickens her pace, and we continue down another hallway. "The last portion will be going into our library, which is upstairs." She flicks her hand out toward the staircase before us. The steps are lined in rich crimson carpet, a color that evokes thoughts of desire, making me wonder why such a hue is permitted in a place they tread upon.
As her foot touches the first step, I politely shake my head. "I'd like to explore on my own."
She steps back, nodding. "Yes, sir. Of course," she replies quietly, clearly wanting anything but that. I watch until she disappears. The only reminder of her is the tap of leather soles pattering against the marble floor.