IX

The first bell rang before I was ready for it.

I slowly peeled one of my eyes opened, then the other. I had a very weird sleeping position where I would sleep with both of my hands over my chest and my body in a straight form. I don't know if I ever moved throughout the night, but I always woke up in this form.

I feel another living thing close to me, making me pause in my thinking. I had a guess at the back of my mind. Slowly, hesitantly, I turned my head to the side to see a familiar face. Violet.

For the past couple of days, Violet had been using my bed more than me. Sometimes, I would wake up to her squeezing me to her side or her little snores. However, she didn't snore every time. When I asked her about the sudden switch-up, she blatantly ignored my question, but I was certain it was because of the untidy space she had been ignoring for weeks.

I gently lay upright, and on cue, the bell rang again, another ring to wake up the deep sleepers like Violet. It was always like this every morning. The bell would go off at six in the morning, twice.

"Can you turn it off?"

Violet stirs in her sleep, mumbling incoherent words. I tap on her forearm gently, her body jolting up immediately in a swift motion.

"What the fuck, Bellamy?!" She yells, rubbing the drift off her eyes. I stare at her for a few minutes before standing up to pick up my towel and pack my things for the washroom.

"You came to my bed again for the umpteenth time this week. Clean your space." I tell her, not necessarily in the mood to start lecturing her about the inconvenience she was causing me at times. I bite my lip, still in thought while Violet watches me.

I eye her briefly. "What?" I questioned, feeling suddenly conscious of my appearance. My hair, which I had braided last night, had completely unbraided itself overnight, so I knew I looked like something out of a horror movie.

Violet only sighed before lifting herself off my bed and going to her locker to pack her things. For a moment, I watched her pack her stuff, but I couldn't ignore the tension in the room. I also couldn't ignore the look Violet had thrown at me. I don't know. For some time now, she seemed very distant, as if she was thinking about a couple of things.

Violet never shared a lot about her life, but she always had something to say about people's lives - not in a judgemental type of way. It was more of input here and there - sort of advice. But I couldn't help but feel a pang of something unfamiliar bubble up in my chest. Guilt? I mean, I barely knew my roommate. I only knew the sides she showed and the little information she gave out, which wasn't a lot, by the way. She was very good at gatekeeping.

I continued packing my things before leaving for the washroom.

• • •

By the time I reached the small prayer room, most of the seats were occupied. Morning prayer was short. At least, that's what everyone told me when I first arrived.

But I knew better.

We all stood together while the chaplain read from the Psalms. Sometimes we joined in when we recognized the Psalm she was reading. But I wasn't in the mood today.

I stood very close to the glass windows where I could still make out the colour of the sky. It was still dark outside, and somewhere around the corner, the birds were making their little chirping noises, also alerting us humans that they were ready for the day.

A few minutes later, we all made the crossing sign before filing out. I stared at Violet, and then she turned to stare at me.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, feeling somewhat concerned for her. She had been quiet since she woke up and hadn't said a word or two to me. Part of me felt hurt, but I knew that was my oversensitive side talking. I didn't want any bad blood between us. Perhaps it's the way I woke her up this morning.

She only nodded before tucking a hair behind her ear, her eyes momentarily dancing around the chapel in pursuit of someone before she glanced back at me. I didn't say anything after, and we continued walking.

If she wasn't going to tell, I wouldn't push her. When she's ready, she'll say it.

...

The door pushes open, and the girl follows suit. By this time, the chapel was already very familiar to the girl. She walks forward, her hands crossed nervously at her front before settling in front of the confession box.

The confessional stood against the far wall of the chapel, half-hidden between two pillars. A small crucifix hung above the entrance, blackened at the edges from candle smoke.

Just inside, a partition divided the booth into two compartments. A small grille covered the opening between them, patterned with tiny crosses.

The girl knelt on the worn cushion, and suddenly, it was as if the walls of the chapel had changed. It was quieter now, left to the crackling of the candles set in the far corner.

Soon after, a priest who looked to be in his late 60s emerged. His white-blonde hair sat resting on his head like a bird's nest. He went back inside again, and then his voice rang out.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

The girl crossed herself, her hair swinging softly on her shoulders as she did so. "Amen."

The air stilled. There was this thick ice in the air, so thick it made her knees buckle on the cushion, but she stayed strong. She was here to let out her burdens to the Lord, to get an answer. She wasn't going to falter. Now was the time.

"When was your last confession?"

The young girl swallowed. She felt her body tense up, but she knew not to fight it. She was going to be honest, not allow any lie to hold her.

"I don't remember." She answered truthfully. She hadn't remembered the last time she came to a priest or even went in this position. But she made up her mind anyways; she was going to tell the truth. Nothing but the truth. She needed to wash her hand from any form of guilt.

The priest did not sound surprised. There was another punch of silence before his voice resonated again. "What brings you here today?"

The girl felt her hands clasped together tightly on her knees. The silence was insufferable; every second and minute that passed by only seemed to make her uncomfortable.

"I don't know how to say it." She swallowed thickly. Her eyes danced on her knees hysterically, her face dulling instantly.

"You don't have to say it perfectly. Speak freely." The priest encouraged from the box.

The girl clasped her hands tighter, in a way that was meant to help her anxiety. Whether it worked or not, only she could tell. She breathed out softly.

She could feel tears prick her eyes, her chest heaving silently in her chest. She needed to say it, let out the truth and let the devil be ashamed. That was why she was here in the first place.

With a little surge of confidence, she opened her mouth to speak, tucking a piece of her ginger hair behind her ears.

"I kissed a girl." She paused, searching for the right piece for the puzzle. "And I loved every moment of it.