3- No choice Available

I'd barely made it back to my cell when footsteps echoed in the corridor.

"Sister Celeste?" Two junior nuns stood in my doorway, their faces carefully blank. "Mother Superior has requested your presence. Immediately."

My stomach dropped.

"Now?" My voice came out too thin.

"Now."

They flanked me as we walked through the convent, though they didn't touch me. They didn't need to. Everyone knew you didn't refuse Mother Superior's summons.

Her office was on the second floor, overlooking the gardens that made Sacred Mercy look so peaceful from the outside. She sat behind her massive desk, fingers steepled, expression serene.

"Sister Celeste. Please, sit."

I lowered myself into the chair across from her, hands folded in my lap to hide their shaking.

Mother Superior studied me for a long moment, her pale eyes calculating. "I understand Sister Margaret came to you this morning with a rather... emotional request."

My throat tightened. "Yes, Mother Superior."

"And you refused her."

It wasn't a question. Of course she knew. She knew everything.

"I..." I swallowed. "I couldn't—"

"Couldn't?" Her eyebrow arched. "Or wouldn't?"

Before I could answer, a sound echoed from somewhere below.

Wailing. Angry, pained and desperate sobbing that I recognized immediately.

Margaret.

"She's been like that for an hour," Mother Superior said conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "Quite distressing for the other sisters."

The sobbing rose to a shriek, then dissolved into broken pleas.

"Please... please don't make me... please..."

Mother Superior's lips thinned. "You see the position you've put me in, Sister Celeste. I have a commitment to fulfill. A very important client who specifically requested someone pure. Someone untouched." Her gaze sharpened. "Someone like Margaret. Or like you."

My breath caught.

"I'm not asking you to volunteer," she continued smoothly. "I'm simply observing that you have a choice to make. The Bible tells us to love thy neighbor as thyself. To bear one another's burdens. Galatians 6:2—'Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.'"

She opened a drawer, pulling out a leather-bound Bible. Her fingers traced the gold-edged pages.

"Matthew 25:40—'Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'" She looked up. "Margaret is your sister in Christ. She's begging for your help. And you, who claim to seek redemption for your sins, refuse to offer even this small mercy?"

The manipulation was elegant. Cruel. Effective.

"I don't…want to," I whispered.

"Of course you don't." Mother Superior's smile was cold. "Sacrifice is never pleasant. That's what makes it sacrifice."

Margaret's screaming grew louder, more desperate.

"Mother Superior, please—"

"I'm not a cruel woman, Celeste." She closed the Bible with a soft thud. "But I am a practical one. Someone will go to Mr. Salvatore tonight. It will be Margaret, who clearly cannot handle what's required. Or it will be you, who at least has the strength to survive it."

"You're asking me to—"

"I'm asking you to be Christian." Her voice hardened. "To show the compassion and selflessness you claim to have learned in your years here. To prove that your mother's death taught you something about putting others before yourself."

The words hit like a slap.

She knew exactly where to strike.

"Of course," Mother Superior continued, leaning back in her chair, "if you refuse, I'll respect that choice. I'll send Margaret. And when she comes back broken–if she comes back–you'll have to live with that too. Another person destroyed because Celeste Moreau chose herself over someone who needed her."

My hands clenched in my lap until my nails drew blood.

"That is, assuming you can live with it," she added casually. "You're already so fragile. So haunted. I'd hate to see what another failure might do to you. Father Benedict might find you on that bridge again. And this time, he might not arrive in time. We wouldn't want to bury a sister, now would we?"

The threat was wrapped in concern, but it was a threat nonetheless.

Margaret's wailing reached a crescendo, then cut off into ragged sobbing.

Mother Superior stood, smoothing her habit. "I'll give you ten minutes to decide. But know this, Sister Celeste–whatever Mother Superior says in this convent, goes. That's always been the way. And it always will be."

She walked to the window, her back to me. "Ten minutes. Then I'll send someone to collect either you or Margaret for preparation. Choose wisely."

I sat frozen in the chair, Margaret's broken sobs echoing through the walls, Mother Superior's words wrapping around my throat like a noose.

And I knew–I knew–that no matter what I chose, I was already condemned.

I closed my eyes tightly.

It was a hard place but her words kept on ringing in my head.

“Selfish.”

I had left mama to die. Now…Margeret

And it would be my fault. I would be…the reason again.

The tears stung, biting into my eye lids until a single tear dropped down my cheek.

“I–would–do it.”

"Very well," Mother Superior said without turning. "Sister Celeste, you shall please Dante Salvatore tonight. Go prepare yourself. The car arrives at sunset."