5: A Dirty Costly Mistake

The incessant murmuring in the bus pulls my attention to see a group of men pulling out their phones to record me. 

‘Oh, god!’ My stomach churns. ‘No. Please…’ 

I'm not sure what miracle I’m praying for, but this would break my mum. 

In time, a broad figure in a thick black hoodie slips in front of me, shielding me from the flashes of their cameras. 

The stranger! 

I don't hesitate to hug him from behind, panicking. My pale face slowly turns red.

“Get off, man.” Some groan in frustration. 

I cling tighter, inhaling the mix of his hood and sweat through his hoodie. The sense of peace is oddly satisfying that I push up, feeding him with my hard tits, pushing hard that the buttons of my shirt threaten to snap.

His muscles harden. 

Like he feels me…

And wants me. 

With their voice slowly dying off until the place feels empty, he steps away from me, breaking the tension. Mute, he pulls out his handkerchief and hands it to me. 

“Thanks,” I mumble, eyes desperately digging through his mask to unravel his identity. 

“Get down!” The driver impatiently calls out. 

The stranger pulls out five hundred-dollar notes and stretches them to me. 

My jaw drops seeing the money handed over to me. “Wait… No. I’m not a slut… I…”

He slips it in between my arm and body and hurriedly walks out. My eyes follow him till his shadow disappears into the crowd. 

“How perfect, Isla.” I sigh, pained to my bones.

With his dick out of my pussy and my brain functioning, I feel stupid. 

“Now he thinks you're a slut.” I hiss and walk out, letting the money drop without a care. 

Outside the train, the environment looks strange. I'm a caged bird, never been to the outskirts of Boston. Whenever I use the bus or train, it's to visit my dad or the cathedral for confession. And right now, I’m way past the road to the cathedral.

I'm not sure who to call to my rescue or if I should start going back home. But the weather isn’t friendly. 

I open my phone to several missed calls from my mum and Nia. I play one of her voice messages. 

‘Hey hun, how is the interview going? You should be done right? I’m sure you’ll be called for the formation. Please, reply to my messages or I’d have to call Mother Superior.’

“Oh, god.” I sigh and blankly stare at my phone.

‘I fucked a stranger’s BBC and missed my way to the convent…’ What the heck am I going to tell her?!

This isn’t the time to think. If it means me lying and kneeling before Mother Superior to grant me an interview, I would.

I walk out of the crowded subway and trace my way down. A few times, I ask strangers for directions. A group of old women who look at my outfit with disgust, men who want to pin me to the wall and eat me raw even though we’re in public, and a few nonchalant girls who point the direction I’d take to get the bus. Finally, I board the one going to the cathedral.

My toes wriggle in my shoes. My eyes are pinned to the window and I subconsciously count every second before the bus pulls up at a junction.

‘ST. DYMPHNA’S CLOISTER.’ 

A billboard points down to the junction. 

My heart does a little triumph dance. I get off the bus and hurry down the quiet street that I’m familiar with. I ignore the greedy eyes that hawks when I swing my hips down the road.

There it is! 

The big black convent’s gate.

I get into the quiet compound. There’s a big water for the nuns at the back, and other smaller buildings. The only sound apart from my panting heart and my footsteps is the ancient bell.

The door creaks open, streaming rays of sunlight into the not-so-bright church. A figure sits in front of a large table with a big bible open in front of her as she prays her rosary. 

Mother Superior.

A white coif wraps her head tightly, framed by a stiff black veil. Her black blouse is a modest high-neck long-sleeved, buttoned-down the front. Her long, overflowing black skirt touches her ankles, and her small feet are in a pair of white rubber shoes.

My petite legs walk down the aisle, I feel cold and scared. 

‘What if she accepts me? Do I really want to give up everything for the convent? I’m not that girl…’

“Blessed Mother, have mercy…” Mother Superior’s voice scares me out of my thoughts.

She springs up in her seat as if she’s seeing a dark spirit. Lines crease her brows, her hands clutch tightly to her rosary and she kisses it. The look in her eye is painfully disgusting.

“Who let you in, little girl?” Her cold tone blasts me.

“I… Uh… I’m Isla Campbell… Uhm… I’m sorry I’m late for the interview…”

“You wouldn’t have made it anyway.” She writes me off without a care. “Girls like you are not meant for the convent.” 

‘What does she mean by girls like me? Does she know my past? What happened to judge not?’

My eyes catch my reflection in her big thick glasses and I freeze.

I’m still in my dirty attire, dressed like a cheap slut.

Oh, my fucking god!

“Holy Mary— mother of God…” I fall to my knees and bow my head to the ground, almost close to her shoes.

She takes a step backward like I’m a plague.

My skirt lifts to bare my ass but this is not the time to cry over spilled milk.

“I’m sorry, it was just the Halloween costume… I beg you, Mother Superior.”

“Shut up, little girl.” She groans. “You can’t blame the devil when you let him in.” Her rosary makes a soft noise as she covers it in her palm. “What happens to dressing like an Angel of light?” 

“I’m sorry…”

“Go home,” she cuts me off. “Ponder on your sins and purge your soul clean. Just maybe you’ll be qualified for the interview next year…”

“No, Mother Superior.” I jolt upward, my hands clutching in a modest prayer. “What happens to looking out for the lost sheep?” Fake tears run down my cheeks. “The convent is my life… I confess every week, yearn to be filled by the Holy Spirit…”

I notice her hard face softens. She tilts her head to study me as if touched.

"Wait..." She arches her brows. "Ana Parker, the dutiful and diligent nurse is your mum?" 

I gulp dryly and nod. Right now, I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse. 

"Oh no," now, she looks pitiful. "I am sure she raised you better."

Wonder why I'm a caged bird? Why my mum doesn't even want the word to as much as sniff my breathe? Yeah. Now you know why.

“She did." I use it to my favor. "That's why I know no other life than this. If you accept me, I will…”

“On one condition.” She cuts me off again, quite impatient. “You will move into the convent next week and start your formation earlier than the others.” 

Wait… WHAT?!

I’m supposed to move to New Orleans next week and start my Camp school. 

“Else, shut the door behind you, Miss Isla.”