Chapter 2~ Sinner & Sin

Chapter 2

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SYLVIA

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If sneaking into the shelter without being caught were an Olympic sport, I’d take gold. Well, maybe bronze.

Okay, lying is a sin.

I’d probably trip over my own feet, crash into a nun, and get excommunicated on the spot.

“Just a few more steps,” I whispered to myself, my heart pounding louder than the damn church bells on Sunday morning.

My left sock betrayed me by sliding on the smooth floor. “Shit!” I hissed, then clamped a hand over my mouth. A nun isn’t supposed to cuss!

I was going to hell. Straight to hell. Not even purgatory was going to bother with me at this rate.

I shuffled forward, cringing with every creak and groan the ancient staircase made under my weight. I could already imagine Mother Beatrice’s face if she caught me, that withering glare that could peel paint off walls.

Halfway up, the sound of footsteps froze me in place. Oh no. Ohhh no.

I turned so slowly I could hear my neck creak. And there she was. Mother Beatrice, in all her holy wrath, standing at the end of the hallway like she’d been waiting for me all along.

“Sylvia.”

“Mother Beatrice!” I blurted, trying to smile. “What… brings you down at this ungodly hour?”

“It’s my home,” she said dryly. “And you’re the one sneaking around like a thief.”

“I—uh—was just checking the floorboards. Yep, making sure they’re sturdy.” I stomped lightly. “See? Safe as houses.”

Her eyebrows lifted in that way that said, You think I’m stupid, don’t you?

“Care to explain why you’re soaking wet?”

I looked down at my damp clothes and cursed the rain silently. “Baptism,” I said without thinking. “Renewing my commitment to the Lord.” Not waiting for her to see through that lie, I started back up.

“Sylvia.”

I froze mid-step. Slowly, I turned around, a fake smile on my face. “Ma?”

“Where. Have. You. Been?” Her words were punctuated by the ominous click of her rosary beads.

“Umm…” I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my neck. “Would you believe me if I said I went for a walk?”

“In the middle of the night?” Her eyebrow arched so high it practically touched heaven.

I swallowed hard. “It’s technically early morning?”

She took one step closer, and I instinctively backed up, bumping into the wall. “Sylvia. Tell me where you went.”

I sighed, realizing I was cornered. There was no escaping her. “I went to the chapel,” I admitted quietly, staring at the floor like a scolded child.

Mother Beatrice gasped so dramatically I thought she might faint. “The chapel?” she repeated, clutching her chest. “You mean the abandoned chapel? The one we’ve warned you about a hundred times? That chapel?”

I nodded, bracing myself for the lecture of a lifetime.

“Why on God’s green earth would you go back there?” she demanded, her voice rising. “It’s dangerous! There could be bad men there. You know what happened last time—”

“I know!” I blurted out, my cheeks flushing.

Her eyes narrowed. “You saw someone, didn’t you?”

“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

She stepped closer, peering at me with her piercing gaze. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” I lied again, my voice cracking.

Her hand shot out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look her in the eye. “Sylvia,” she said firmly. “All liars burn in the bottomless lake of fire, child. You saw someone.”

I hesitated, my pulse racing. If I kept quiet, I’d be lying to a woman of God. But if I told her the truth, I’d have to relive the absolute sins that had unfolded in that chapel.

“Yes,” I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mother Beatrice’s face paled, and she crossed herself with trembling hands. “Who?”

“The… the owner,” I winced as the words left my mouth.

“The owner?” she echoed, her voice rising. “The man who owns the chapel? You spoke to him?”

“Yes.”

She grabbed my shoulders, her eyes wide with panic. “Did he hurt you?” she demanded, spinning me around as if checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Did he—”

“No, he didn’t hurt me!” I said quickly, pulling away from her grip. Although, if I were being honest, I’d probably have preferred physical pain to the emotional hurricane he’d unleashed in me.

Mother Beatrice sighed in relief and pressed a hand to her heart. “Thank God,” she muttered. Then she frowned. “Wait. If he didn’t hurt you, then what did he want?”

I hesitated again, biting my lip. “He… made an offer,” I said cautiously.

She stared at me, her lips moving silently as if praying for guidance. Finally, she asked, “What kind of offer?”

“He said he could help us,” I explained. “He has a place in Albany where we can stay. Somewhere safe.”

Her mouth fell open, and for a moment, she was speechless. Then she whispered, “Albany?” like it was some mythical Promised Land.

“Yes,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my coat. “But I told him no.”

Her head snapped up, and she stared at me like I’d just announced I was moving to Mars. “You told him no?”

I didn’t… yet. But I answered, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I trailed off, my cheeks heating up.

Because being around him made me want to confess my deepest, darkest sins. Because I didn’t like the way his touch had lingered on my skin. Because I was terrified of him, not because he was dangerous, but because he was him.

“I just don’t think we should trust a man who has guns and evil men,” I said finally.

Mother Beatrice crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. “That is true. But we prayed to God for help from this crumbling place, and that might be His answer. And we could lead that young man to salvation in the process.”

I winced. She wasn’t wrong. The shelter was falling apart, and we were running out of time before we’d be forced to leave. But going to Albany meant facing him, and that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, turning toward the stairs.

“We’ll pray on it,” she called after me. “But if this is truly God’s will, we may not have a choice.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. She was right. We didn’t have many options left.

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The hallway was empty, but I still walked as if someone were watching. That was the thing about nuns.

Always watching, always judging.

And if it wasn’t Mother Beatrice, who had a knack for showing up when you least expected her. It was God.

I tiptoed past the children’s room and hesitated, then went back and peeked inside. They were all asleep, their little breaths rhythmic and soft. My heart swelled when I spotted Maeve drooling on her pillow, her stuffed bunny clutched firmly to her small chest.

A nun wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but… Maeve was mine.

I padded over quietly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, cookie monster,” I whispered. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. I kissed two more foreheads on my way out, soft and quick, before heading up to my room.

By the time I closed my door behind me, I was exhausted. Exhausted and wet. My clothes still clung to me from that ridiculous downpour. I leaned against the door and let out a long breath.

The image of him…him…flashed in my mind again, unbidden. His eyes, dark and unreadable like the devil’s. His voice, low and commanding. His presence, utterly infuriating.

“A nun is not supposed to feel these things,” I repeated my mantra while pulling off my wet sweater.

The thought made me snort bitterly as I undid my skirt and let it drop to the floor. The vow of poverty had worked out great. The vow of chastity? Less so.

I glanced at the small tub in the corner, already half-filled with water. It was calling to me, promising to wash away my sins, or at least the worst of my day. I stepped in and sank down slowly as the warm water enveloped me.

My muscles relaxed immediately, but my thoughts didn’t.

I leaned back, closed my eyes and pressed my palms against my face. Forget him, Sylvia. Just forget him.

But I couldn’t. Because no matter how much I prayed for deliverance, I knew I’d probably see him again. And worse, I knew that when that day came, I wouldn’t have the strength to say no.

A faint creak broke through the quiet, followed by the unmistakable sensation of someone’s breath on my neck.

I froze.

“Miss me?”

My blood turned cold, and then hot, as his voice sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t turn around, I didn’t have to. I knew who it was.

“Sin,” I whispered.

He chuckled, the sound dark and almost… amused. “That’s what you call me, isn’t it?”

Goosebumps rose on my skin. His big frame loomed behind me, but I didn’t dare move. I didn’t even dare breathe.

“You’ve been praying,” he murmured, his voice closer now, just above my ear.

I gripped the edge of the tub, my knuckles white. “Go away.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You don’t want me to go anywhere.”

His fingers brushed the bare skin of my shoulder, and I gasped. He leaned down, his lips grazing my ear. “You cheated on me today, didn’t you?”

“No,” I managed to say, though my voice shook. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His tone darkened, and his hand slid down my arm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “I saw the way you looked at him. You wanted him.”

“I didn’t!” I protested, turning my head slightly, but before I could say more, he pressed his finger to my lips.

“Shh.”

The word was soft but commanding, and I obeyed without thinking. He moved behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders now, strong and possessive. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

“Sin,” I said again, his name a plea.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, just as his lips brushed the back of my neck.

A nun wasn’t supposed to feel this way. A nun wasn’t supposed to have a man sneaking into her room, touching her like this, claiming her like this. And yet here I was, letting him.

“Where have you been?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I’ve been waiting.” he said simply, his hands sliding lower, over the curve of my waist. “Always watching.”

I closed my eyes, hating myself for the way my body leaned into his touch. He had no right to be here, no right to touch me, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. I never could.

His lips found the crook of my neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses there. “You’ve been good, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Aside from today, of course.”

“I—”

He tilted my head back further, his masked face looming over mine. “Tell me, Sylvia,” he whispered, his breath warm against my lips. “What do you pray for?”

I closed my eyes, my chest heaving as his hand slid lower, skimming the surface of the water. “I pray…” I whispered, my voice shaking.

“Yes?”

“For God to forgive me,” I finished, my voice breaking.

His laughter was soft and cruel, and he leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead. “Sweetheart, even God knows you’re mine.”

And then his lips were on mine, demanding and unapologetic, stealing the breath from my lungs. His hands explored my body, his touch igniting a fire I couldn’t extinguish. I clung to the edge of the tub, helpless against him, against myself.

But I didn’t push him away. I never did.

Because some sins don’t go away.