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1429 Words
"You fell," the nurse repeated flatly, scribbling on her clipboard like she was writing a report for the local asylum. "That's your story?"
"Tripped over temptation," I muttered. "Fell straight into judgment."
She raised an eyebrow so high, it almost hit her hairnet. "Must've been a hell of a fall."
Before I could come up with a witty comeback―or a more believable lie― the door swung open and in swept my grandmother like judgment on high, flanked by the silver-haired woman I'd heard called Agatha. They both looked like the kind of women who ran entire villages with a single glance.
The nurse took one look at them, muttered something about prayers, and retreated like smoke.
Grandma didn't even spare me a glance. She went straight into business mode, voice sharp and sugarless.
"Do you all have a place like this for boys?" she asked Agatha, waving a hand at the whitewashed walls and crucifix-heavy decor like she was ordering wallpaper samples. "Somewhere to rinse the filth off and return them to the world, scrubbed clean and respectful?"
Agatha folded her hands over her stomach, her face the definition of politely unbothered. "We specialize in girls. There's more demand."
"Right," she said with a sigh. "Figures."
I blinked. "Okay, wow. Hello? Still in the room."
Ellen turned just enough to glare at me. I shriveled on the cot like a salted snail.
She faced Agatha again. "Would you be willing to assign one of your girls to him? Someone strong. Faithful. Unshakable. He needs... supervision."
"Supervision?" I choked, lurching forward. "Ellen, I'm not a toddler with a lighter! You can't just―"
"Shush," she snapped, and the force of it actually shushed me.
Agatha, for her part, didn't blink. She studied one in silence, her eyes like two pressure washers stripping away every last excuse I had stored up.
"We do not offer those kind of services. Try your luck with a security agency," she said at last.
I stifled a smile.
Ellen doesn't even flinch. "Been there. Done that."
She whaaaat? "Look here, Agatha, isn't it against your rules to lie? I wouldn't be here if a friend of mine hadn't recommended it. You could even set up a side hustle with it, making millions of dollars.
Agatha's mouth is set in a hard line. "I don't want your money."
"Everything has a price," my grandmother says coolly.
Agatha glowered. "I will not jeopardize the security of these girls because your son cannot keep it in his pants. We read the papers, Ellen. He is dangerous. He cannot be trusted."
Ellen frowns. "I'm not asking you to trust my son, Agatha. I'm asking that you trust your girls. You've trained them in the Lord, haven't you? This is a wonderful opportunity to test their faith. I ask this of you, for a year and a half."
Her icy gaze sweeps over me, before landing on Grandma. "Twelve months."
"Fifteen."
Agatha stands straighter. "A year and you bring her back to me. Pure and untouched."
Pure and untouched? My skin sizzles with excitement. They're putting a virgin in charge of me? This should be fun.
The corner of Ellen's lips turned up. "Deal."
"Very well," she said at last. "Let me call in a few of them. You may choose."
Choose? What is this? The Bachelor: Purity Edition?
The door opened with an ominous creak and in walked a line of girls like they had been summoned by the Holy Spirit Himself. All long skirts and serenity so thick it was practically smug.
I sat there, bleeding, panicking and rapidly recalculating the trajectory of my entire life.
They lined up against the walls like soldiers of chastity, hands clasped, posture perfect. Not one of them looked like they'd ever so much as heard of t****k.
Grandma stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back like a CEO selecting a new intern.
Agatha stood off to the side, quiet, watching me.
I leaned toward Ellen and whispered, "This feels illegal."
She folded her arms. "It's about time you had a woman in your life who doesn't want to sleep with you."
"Hey," I said, affronted. "That's sexist, plus I have you."
She rolled her eyes, making her selection with frightening efficiency. The girl she chose had the kind of polished poise that screamed, 'future first lady.' She had an upturned nose, perfect posture and the unmistakable aura of someone who got a pony for her eight birthday and named him, "Justice."
"This one," Ellen declared, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder like she'd just picked out a new handbag. "She has dignity. Presence. You can tell she was raised right."
The girl smiled, small, humble. Probably trained in front of a mirror.
Agatha gave a single, approving nod. "A fine choice."
Then, chaos.
Somewhere down the hall, a crash echoed―ceramic, by the sound of it. Followed by a muffled apology.
Agatha's brows creased slightly. "Would you mind calling your sister? Have her clean that up, and perhaps a tray for our guests. Tea would be nice."
The girl curtsied. "Yes, Mother."
Mother? That's new. I hadn't realized she was that high up the ladder. She swept out, with her skirt barely brushing the floor.
I leaned toward Grandma. "So wait, we're going with Miss Tea Party?"
"She's perfect," Grandma whispered back, tapping her cane. "Polished. Refined. Holy."
She got all that by just looking at her face? Damn, she needs to teach me how to do that.
The door opened again and in walked sin in a skirt.
Not that you'd know it, looking at her now. Her ankle-length skirt was the color of sand and her blouse hung off her frame like it didn't want to be involved. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid, her face scrubbed clean. She looked plain. Modest. Practically invisible.
Except I recognized her.
And then she saw me.
No gasp. No apology. No regret for the nose she'd tried to arrange like IKEA furniture.
Just the barest flicker of amusement on her lips.
I sat up straighter. "You," I blurted.
Her smirk deepened.
Ellen turned to Agatha. "And who is this?"
Agatha remained still. "One of our older girls."
"She looks like the cleaning staff."
"She's not."
"Could've fooled me. She's certainly not refined," Grandma snapped.
"I want her."
The words fell out of me like a confession. Honest. Immediate. Loud.
Both women turned toward me in sync. Like twin gargoyles sensing blasphemy.
"What did you say?" Ellen hissed.
"I want her," I repeat the words, pointing at her like I was presenting Exhibit A in courtroom. "She hit me. That means she's not scared of me. That's what you want right? Someone who could keep me in line?"
The girl's brow lifted ever so slightly but she said nothing.
Ellen waved a hand toward the girl she'd picked. "We've already made our selection. This girl is from a proper family. You will respect my choice."
Of course, everything just has to be about her. The first girl stepped forward, clearly offended. "I want to serve."
How about a waitress job, Miss Tea Party? The smirking girl turned sharply. "Be my guest. I don't want to be involved either."
"Good." Ellen smiled, triumphant. "Then it's settled."
But I wasn't done.
"If she doesn't come with me," I begin, my voice cold and steady. "I won't be keeping any vows."
Ellen's head snapped toward me.
I held her gaze. "None. Not a single one. I'll do exactly what you're trying to prevent. Probably worse. And I'll do it loudly. The press will be thrilled."
Silence fell like a hammer.
The air thickened. Agatha studied me, then turned her gaze toward the girl. Her expression was unreadable. Calculating.
Then she nodded once. "Go pack your things."
The girl's jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought she might refuse outright. Her hands curled slightly at her sides, but she said nothing. She gave Agatha a curt nod, shot me a look like, 'this isn't over,' and strode out.
I leaned back on the cot, victorious.
Grandma looked like she wanted to wring holy water from stone.
Agatha turned to the other girls, the smile fading from her face. "You're dismissed."
They all curtsied, quiet as mice, and filled out, the door closing behind them with a muted finality.
And just like that, the deal was sealed.
I don't know her name.
But I know one thing for sure―
I've just made the biggest mistake of my life.
- Writer
