Series: The Un Series by Izzy Sweet
Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
And now they want to strip me naked in front of the very men I might tempt? How does this make any sense?
Sister Agatha makes another grab for me, but I scramble to the side, narrowly dodging her lunging hands.
“Would you like some aid, Sister?” Father Dominic offers with a chuckle. “I’d be more than happy to lend a helping hand.”
“No!” she barks at him, her face flushed red. “Alena, this is your last warning. Obey or face the consequences.”
Tears filling my eyes, I shake my head in refusal and plead, “Not here. Please. Can we not do this somewhere private?”
Sister Agatha seems to hesitate for a moment, and my chest swells with the hope that my plea for mercy isn’t falling on deaf ears for once. She even gives me a look full of sympathy, as if she understands my reluctance.
Only to narrow her eyes in steely determination a second later. “Jeffrey, help me with this stupid girl!”
The floorboards beneath my feet vibrate as Jeffrey stomps over from the doorway.
Twisting my head side to side, I search for a way to escape, but I’m completely surrounded. Even if I somehow make it out the door, there’s an entire church to cross before I’ll reach the outside.
And then what? I go running down the streets in my bloodied nightgown?
The people outside these walls will think I’m insane.
Jeffrey makes a grab for me, throwing his entire body at me.
I try to dodge him, but in doing so I end up throwing myself against Sister Agatha. Her thin, vicious hands immediately latch onto me with no mercy.
Nails sinking into the skin of my arms as she spreads them apart, she commands Jeffrey to, “Remove the nightgown.”
A flash of fury appears on Jeffrey’s face as he begins to bend down. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the command angers him for some reason.
But it doesn’t stop him from complying.
I try to jerk myself out of Sister Agatha’s grip, but when I feel my knees exposed to the cold kiss of the air, I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on enduring the humiliation.
A heavy silence falls over the room as the cold air kisses more and more of my body. From my knees, to my thighs, to my hips. The sound of my own frantic panting echoes inside my head as Jeffrey peels the nightgown up to my armpits.
“Do you see anything?” Sister Agatha asks.
“No,” Jeffrey answers through gritted teeth.
Sister Agatha suddenly releases her grip on my arms, but I’m so frozen by the shame and humiliation, I can’t move if I wanted to. “Help me get it over her head.”
A couple of heartbeats pass, then the last of my dignity is ripped over my head. The buttons snagging on my hair. A warm hand touches my bare shoulder and gives it a little squeeze, but there are no more words spoken.
There is no need for words now that I’m not fighting them.
Treating me like a doll, I’m turned side to side, spun around, then each of my arms is lifted. Someone even wipes at the blood on my thighs.
Sister Agatha declares, “I can see no mark.”
“You haven’t checked everywhere,” Father Dominic counters.
Sister Agatha sniffs with indignation. “I assure you, I’ve checked every visible inch of her.”
Father Dominic starts to argue, “You haven’t checked—"
But Father McCall raises his voice and talks over him. “From what I’ve witnessed over the years, the mark only appears in a few places. Sister Agatha has been adequately thorough.”
“I agree,” the Prophet says, putting an end to the argument.
Hoping the nightmare is over now, I manage to work up enough nerve to wrap my arms around myself.
But I freeze up again and my eyes fly open when the Prophet suddenly orders, “Bring the girl to me.”
Sister Agatha nods at Jeffrey.
Clenching his jaw, Jeffrey refuses to look at me as he grabs my arm and jerks me nearly off my feet. Forced to trip and stumble beside him, I try my best to cover myself with one hand.
Bone-white fingers gripping the arms of his throne, the Prophet leans forward as we approach. When Jeffrey shoves me down to my knees, I can feel the darkness beneath his hood biting into my skin like thousands of icy needles.
“Tell me, child,” the Prophet says, his words scraping against my nerves. “Do you love God?”
Out of everything that’s happened to me today, I didn’t think I could be more freaked out. But with his attention biting into me, the question fills me with dread.
What will they do to me if I answer honestly and tell them no? Strip the meat off my bones? After what’s already happened to me, I wouldn’t put anything past them.
Feeling as if I have no other choice, I bow my head and say, “Yes.”
Somewhere behind me, I hear someone exhale in relief.