Page 22 of Wanted

Jeffrey’s eyes nearly bug out in surprise.

Sister Agatha shrieks out a triumphant, “See!”

I watch Jeffrey nod his head slowly in agreement.

Then his nostrils flare a split-second before he finally brings the rod down on me, cracking me across the back of my shoulders.

My body bends forward as the pain travels down my spine and arms.

But it’s the pain in my heart that truly breaks me.

When Jeffrey lifts his rod again and brings it down hard on my back with a loud crack, I know I can never put my hope or faith in another person ever again.

It will only lead to soul-shattering betrayal and disappointment.

THREE

ALENA

The Past

2 Weeks Ago

Boston

Darkness envelopes me, allowing me to float aimlessly in its passionless abyss. It cares not who or what I am. It cares not that I have sought comfort in it once again.

It simply exists without prejudice. Without judgment.

Welcoming me every night like an old friend with a hug of endless oblivion.

It’s the only thing I can count on to always be there for me when I need it. Sleep is my only escape these days, my days full of a thousand little torments.

Since the day the Prophet declared me tainted before the entire Boston congregation, Sister Agatha has made it her personal mission to make my life a living Hell.

Filling my waking hours with hard labor or mind-numbing tasks that rot my brain. If I’m not on my knees scrubbing at dirt so old it’s become a part of the stone, I’m on my knees praying to the Almighty.

Praying for what, though? It has never been explained to me.

Most people pray for God to forgive them. For their loved ones to be protected. For His love and guidance.

I have no loved ones. No one I care for, and no one who cares for me.

Not since everyone, my parents and God Himself, turned their back on me ten years ago.

According to the Order’s teachings, I am beyond saving. There is no eternal paradise in my destiny.

No hope for salvation.

Simply being born is an unforgivable sin.

I’m doomed to burn in misery for eternity when I pass from this earth.

What’s the point then? What’s the point in keeping me alive?I often wonder when I finally get to lay my head down at night.

If I’m at risk of one day spreading my legs and birthing evil into the world, as Sister Agatha likes to put it, why risk my existence? Why keep me breathing?

I dared to ask her one day when she was having Jeffrey severely beat me for something I had no control over. Somehow, I had unintentionally ‘seduced’ two seminarians while scrubbing the floors and nearly lead them to eternal damnation.

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