Page 64 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Chapter 22

Trinity

Sister Miriam leads me to the first floor of the main building. We pass several administration offices until we reach one right at the end of the hall.

There’s a window. A desk. An office chair. A wooden cabinet and an old-school telephone with its receiver resting on the cradle.

It stinks of cigarettes in here, which is surprising because I didn’t take Sister Miriam for a smoker. Perhaps she received a visitor that did? Was that what she was busy with while Reuben was praying for me?

She says nothing as she walks up to the wooden cabinet.

I stand in the middle of the room, not moving a hair, hoping to delay the inevitable.

As if.

She finally turns to me, a strip of leather in her hand. Broad, maybe two inches. So stiff it barely moves as she steps closer.

“Close the door.”

“Sister—”

“Close the door!”

My eyes squeeze shut at her yell. I spin around and go to close the door.

When I turn, I notice a second chair. Now the cigarette smoke makes sense.

Brother Zachary Rutherford is here, smoking a cigarette. There’s a low table beside him, an overflowing ashtray, and a pack of filter-less cigarettes.

He takes a drag of his cigarette, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Over here, child,” Miriam calls.

“What’s he doing here?”

“Making sure I do my job,” she says stiffly.

From the sound of her voice, she’s about to take out a week’s worth of irritation on my ass.

Lashes.

In front of Zachary.

I’d beg, if I thought it would do any good. Fuck, I’d go down on my knees and pray.

I still have Reuben’s rosary. Its smell has been with me all this time, but it’s suddenly lost its calming effect.

“Move.”

I shuffle over on wooden legs.

“Hands here,” she says, using the stiff strip of leather to point to an empty space on the desk.

I press my palms to the table. I’m facing the wall, my side profile turned to Zachary.

“Feet back.”

I swallow hard and scoot my feet back a few inches.

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