Page 11 of Unholy Fate

Levi rose, his movements fluid and graceful despite the tension that still hung heavy in the air. He bowed deeply before disappearing in a verdant swirl of energy, leaving me alone with myself.

I leaned back on my throne, my mind already turning to the next phase of my intricate scheme.

CHAPTER SEVEN

EVELYN

My five a.m. alarm blared,rousing me from a deep slumber. I wanted nothing more than to burrow under the covers and drift back to sleep. The thought tiptoed through my mind until I banished it. Slothfulness was a sin, after all. With a sigh, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

Standing, I stretched and padded over to the small sink in the corner of my austere room. The cool water was refreshing on my face as I splashed it, blinking away the last vestiges of drowsiness. I brushed out my long, pale blonde hair, pulling it back into a tidy bun at the nape of my neck.

Dressing quickly in a long sleeved white blouse and calf length skirt, I avoided looking in the small mirror. My order didn’t require habits, but modesty in appearance was still expected. I knelt by my bedside, clasping my hands. The familiar words of morning prayer flowed from my lips:

“Heavenly Father, thank you for the gift of this new day...”

As I recited the lines I’d spoken thousands of times, a flicker of distraction skittered through my mind. Weariness pulled atme, tempting me to rush through my devotions. Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus, determined to give the Lord my full attention. I couldn’t let fatigue dull my dedication to Him. Bowing my head, I concentrated on each word, willing myself to contemplate their meaning.

After several minutes, I rose, my knees aching slightly from the hard floor. I made my way through the hushed corridors and out to the convent garden. It greeted me with its earthy scents and dew-kissed leaves. I inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp morning air. Tendrils of mist clung to the ground as the sun peeked over the horizon, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. A sense of peace washed over me, and my spirits lifted. Today would be a fresh start, unmarred by yesterday’s troubles.

I knelt beside the vegetable patch, the damp soil cool against my hands. Methodically, I began pulling weeds, their stubborn roots clinging to the earth. The repetitive task allowed my mind to wander. I thought of my parents, realizing it had been weeks since we last spoke. They had struggled to accept my calling, but their love and support ultimately meant everything to me. I couldn’t have asked for a more nurturing childhood.

Unbidden, an image of a man’s face flickered in my mind. I froze, my fingers tightening around a weed. No, I couldn’t think of him. Not now, not ever. I shoved the forbidden notions back into the recesses of my mind, refusing to acknowledge his name.Focus on the present.

But the damage was done. My good mood evaporated, replaced by a simmering frustration. I yanked at the weeds more forcefully, my movements jerky and uneven. When I reached the last row of tomatoes, I hesitated. A small voice said that I could skip this part, that I had done enough. My day was so full already...

A single day wouldn’t make a difference, I told the guilt needling at me, but I pushed it aside. Just this once, I reasoned. I’d make it up later. I hurried past the remaining plants.

I entered the dining hall, the aroma of oatmeal and fresh fruit wafting through the air. The other sisters were already seated, their quiet conversations filling the room. I slid into my usual spot, mouthing a silent prayer of thanks before reaching for my spoon.

“Good morning, Sister Evelyn,” Sister Margaret greeted me warmly. “How are you faring today?”

I forced a smile. “Well enough, thank you. And yourself?”

As we exchanged pleasantries, I couldn’t shake the lingering weight of guilt. The skipped chore gnawed at me, a persistent reminder of my own weakness. I’ll do penance, I promised myself. But even as the thought crossed my mind, a small part of me hoped it wouldn’t be too severe.

Lost in my mind, I barely noticed when Serena approached, her face pale and drawn. She hesitated before speaking. “Sister Evelyn, I have news about the man who attacked you.”

A shiver ran down my spine, but I maintained my composure. “What is it?”

Serena looked at the floor. “He... he killed himself. In the hospital. One of the nurses is a parishioner and she told me this morning after mass at St. Mary’s.”

My spoon froze halfway to my mouth, the oatmeal turning to ash on my tongue. Memories of yesterday’s attack flooded back. The bruising grip on my wrist, the fury and disgust that had surged through me. In that moment, hadn’t I wished for somethingterrible to befall him? Hadn’t I thought that if men like him experienced the same violence they inflicted, they might change their ways?

Remorse and horror crashed over me in sickening waves. “Oh, God, forgive me.”

Serena reached out and gently touched my arm. “It’s not your fault, Sister Evelyn. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

I barely heard her due to being lost in the maelstrom of my own thoughts. I had allowed anger and bitterness to take root in my heart, had wished harm upon another human being. How could I claim to walk in God’s light when such darkness lurked within me?

I would go to confession and lay bare my sins before the Lord. I would pray for Frank’s soul, work harder to purge the anger from my heart, and find compassion even in the face of cruelty.

CHAPTER EIGHT

EVELYN

Long after thebreakfast dishes had been cleared, and the morning chores completed, I walked down the hallway toward the chapel where snippets of a conversation drifted out from Father Hudson’s slightly ajar office door.

If the door was ajar, he was here to do the sacrament of confession, though he didn’t hear them in his office.

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