The Don in the CHAPEL

white ceiling,black thoughts

Oh Christ!

Every day I sleep and wake up, and do you know the first thing I see?

The same white ceiling.

That white ceiling reminds me that I’m still in this prison. Maybe to outsiders, this house looks big, nice—one of those "rich people" homes. Maybe they even think I’m “enjoying.”

But they don’t know.

I would rather be in jail than be here.

Waking up to the white ceiling.

Waking up to the thought of surviving one more day.

Waking up to repeat the same routines.

Let’s not forget the “experience-new-dangers” part—courtesy of my aunt.

Add that to the list.

But today is different.

Today, I’ve made a plan—a foolproof, no-turning-back, this-is-it plan. That’s why I woke up early.

To finish my chores.

To write my to-do list.

To finally do something.

I’m done being a baby. Done crying. Done hoping.

Now, I move.

Ping.

My phone chimed. A message from our choirmaster.

Reminding us of an errand.

An errand?

I stared at my phone in confusion—until another line came through and I finally remembered what he was talking about.

Great.

Just what I needed—another thing to add to my day. And worse? The errand involved visiting our priest.

Everyone hates that.

He has a rotation of mood swings that could rival the weather. And if you’re unlucky enough to catch him on one of his bad days…?

You might cry. And I do not want to cry.

“Father is coming,” one of the boys said before leaving me alone in the sitting room.

Abandoned.

By the two people who were supposed to come with me.

And no, I don’t care about being the “bigger person.” I just care about not being alone with the mood-swinging priest.

Except—this wasn’t the priest I remembered.

No.

This man who just walked in?

This man wasn’t holy. He was… gorgeous.

Tall. Composed. That sinful smirk plastered across his lips like he knew what he was doing to me. My eyes widened, shamefully soaking him in.

Stop it, Sierra.

What are you doing?

“Can I see it, then?” he asked suddenly.

Huh?

What does he mean by see it? My brain was already drowning in dirty thoughts.

I blinked. Zoned out again.

Sh*t.

I swallowed, forcing a smile and handed him the report he was asking for.

The moment he disappeared into his room to get something…

I ran.

Call it cowardice if you like.

I’ll call it holiness.

I’m just trying to preserve some shred of decency—keep at least my thoughts sinful and my actions holy.

…Or so I tell myself.