Chapter 1

Anna POV

Slap！Slap！Slap！The sharp sound of Sister Marianne’s hand striking my cheek echoes through the hall.

I wasn’t late—morning vespers don’t start for another ten minutes—but I was the last one to arrive, and that is its own sin in this orphanage.

I hated this rule here but couldn’t do anything. This rule makes peers in the orphanage almost never bond with each other, they compete to make sure they are not the last one to arrive and get punished.

Now, my knees are on the cold tile floor as Sister Marianne punishes me with one strike after another, and the headmaster looks on with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

I glance at the others who arrived before me, but they’re looking away, pretending that they don’t see what’s right in front of them. I know that I’m the same when somebody else is in this position because staying quiet and ignoring the scene is the safest choice.

Only Julia—sweet Julia, my one friend—dares to glance over at me with worry in her wide eyes.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Anna?” Sister Marianne asks, her hand coming down to strike my cheek again.

After nearly eight years living under the rules of the strict nuns and cruel headmaster, Father Tobias, I know that Sister Marianne’s question isn’t a real one. They want me to beg. They want proof of the power that they hold over us.

I stay silent, meeting Father Tobias’ eyes with all the defiance I can muster into my gaze.

Of course, the price of my defiance could be up to one hundred strikes. As I brace myself for this marathon of pain, Father Tobias’ expression shifts, his eyes darkening.

“Enough, Sister,” he says, his voice freezing Sister Marianne’s hand in place before she adds another layer of burning pain to my face. His eyes stay locked on me. “Send Anna to my room, and I’ll punish her myself tonight.”

I spot Julia’s face when Father Tobias makes his decision to punish me himself, and she looks like she’s about to vibrate out of her skin or throw up. Or both, and I remember that she received a similar punishment not long ago, so she must know what comes next for me.

However, she doesn’t get a chance to tell me, as Sister Marianne ushers me into Father Tobias’ room right when morning vespers ended, telling me to sit and wait for Father to arrive.

The room is simple enough for a priest, but with a few small luxuries that show his status as the headmaster. It’s all dark wood and wine red cloth.

Everything in the room seems normal enough, but I can’t stop feeling anxious that something is off.

Maybe it’s the look Julia gave me that’s making me feel unsafe. She knows, and what she knows is that what happens here is bad enough to leave her worried about me.

I start pacing across the small length of floor that’s open, each turn increasing my anxiety. Then, the door creaks, and I’m sure that it’s Father Tobias coming to hand out my punishment.

But when it squeaks open, it’s Julia’s terrified face that peeks in.

“Leave this place, Anna. Find somewhere to hide,” she says, her voice shaking. “But you can’t wait until Father Tobias is back. I was here a few weeks ago. He…”

Her lips tremble, and she tries to blink away the tears building in her eyes but only succeeds in making them fall down her cheeks.

“What did he do?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“He… he violated me. Then, he accused me of seducing him.” Julia’s voice shakes as she says this. “All that talk about protecting our chastity over the years, only for the man who preaches it to be the one to take it away.”

I reach my hand across the table to grab hers, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Dread and anger mix into a burning feeling in my stomach, but I don’t know what to say to her. What can I possibly say that’s stronger than the memories of that level of betrayal and violation?

Thinking back, the way Father Tobias looked at me when he stopped Sister Marianne and decided to punish me himself later takes on a new, sinister lens. His support of the nuns’ use of corporal punishment on children is one thing, but to find opportunities to subject us to that sickening level of abuse is monstrous.

Eight years. I’ve lived here for almost eight years, since my mother decided on her deathbed that this orphanage would be the best place for ten-year-old me when she passed. I absorbed the scriptures and lessons, and I dedicated myself to God the way they told me to, simply thankful that I had a place to live and food to eat.

To learn about the perverse nature of the head of this orphanage after believing for years that the strict rules and punishments could be overlooked as an extreme desire for order and discipline and that the nuns and Father Tobias really had our best interests in mind makes me feel like a fool.

I should’ve seen the signs and realized the corruption earlier, but for the most part, I grew up seeing their actions and convincing myself that it’s the new normal of my life as an orphan.

Maybe some deep part of me believed that I deserved this treatment. I wasn’t able to save my mom. Perhaps, in God’s eyes, that meant that I had to suffer to atone.

Not anymore. Now, I see the truth.

“Hiding won’t work.” I lean closer to Julia and say, “We’re leaving. Together.”

“What? Where will we go?”

I shake my head. “Who cares? Let’s just get out first, then figure it out from there.”

I don’t give her the chance to refuse joining me.

I take Julia’s hand in mine and pull her through the hallways. “We’re leaving,” I say again.

Having lived here for so long, I know that the kitchens are busy at this time and we should be able to slip out of the door next to it that’s meant for food shipments without anybody noticing, not with the sound and chaos of cooking for an entire orphanage.

But when we round the corner of the off-limits hallway that leads to that door, Sister Agatha and Sister Helen are there. With a shared look, Sister Helen leaves, going to get Father Tobias, I’m sure.

Julia drops to her knees, apologizing and begging for forgiveness with tears streaming down her face. I stay standing, unwilling to apologize for trying to escape the injustice of this place now that I knew how foul it truly is.

Sister Agatha looks to me for an explanation, and I say, “We’re leaving because we refuse to stay in an orphanage run by a rapist. Did you know that’s what Father Tobias does to us when he calls us to his room? He’s a monster!”

That’s when I hear Father Tobias’ voice and the footsteps of him and others arriving. I turn to find him looking at me, a finger pointing and eyes full of accusation.

“She’s possessed!” he says. “Sisters, we must rid our dear Anna of the vile demons who have made her body into their host.”

The first strike is from Sister Agatha’s cane, and it hits the side of my head, leaving my vision blurred as my ears start ringing. One after another, the blows come with strings of Latin that must be prayers filling the air.

While my instincts scream at me to curl up and protect my head, my balance is already gone, and I fall to the floor, unable to move under the onslaught ordered by Father Tobias.

My world shrinks down to the pain that’s only growing as my vision darkens. It’s almost funny. Trying to escape is going to be the incident that leads to my death, all because I told the truth.

“Get your hands off of her.” In the distance, I hear a man’s voice yelling, but it doesn’t belong to Father Tobias.

It’s a voice I don’t recognize, but all I can really process is the heaviness of my body and the taste of blood in my mouth.

That’s why, when I feel the warmth and safety of strong arms around me, I’m convinced that I’ve died and the angels are taking my soul away from this wretched orphanage.

Death, it seems, doesn’t come that easily. When I manage to force my eyes open, I’m not on a bed of clouds. I’m in a hospital, albeit a very fancy one.

On my left and right, there are tubes and machines that are connected to me, their beeps a measure of a life that hasn't ended in a frenzied beating due to a supposed demonic possession. I’ve never received this level of medical care before, and I have no idea why I’m receiving it now.

“Anna, you’re awake.” It’s the voice I heard back at the orphanage.

I lift my head enough to see a man with graying hair and wrinkles on his face, but his age only increases the aura of authority radiating from him. He looks like a man who knows how to handle problems and like a man who’s had a lot of experience doing so.

Next to him are two men. Older than me, but young enough that they must be the first man’s sons. All three are handsome and in expensive, tailored suits, which makes it that much more baffling to see them at my bedside of all places.

The older man steps closer, kneeling so that he’s at eye level instead of towering over me. “You’re safe,” he says.

“Who are you?” My voice is raspy, but he must hear my words.

He smiles and gestures to himself, then to the other two men. “From now on, I’m your father, and these are your brothers. I’ve adopted you into our family.”