THE RAPE
Mafia’s Nun: Sold to the devil.
by Diana D
Genre: Dark Mafia Romance
Tone: Spicy, emotional, intense
Chapter 1: " The r**e "
ROXANNE KAVANNAGH.
I had my life all planned out... no, my parents had all my whole life planned out for me, but we don't actually get what we want, right?
" Are you crazy, Roxanne? " my mother's harsh voice laced out. I withdrew my stare but met with my dad's disappointed look.
Mum must be so mad if she used the word " crazy" on me. She never use those words, no one in my family ever.
" Not only did you parade your slutty self around, you actually got a d**k stick into your p***y" my mum howled and I wince at her choice of words.
No matter how they see it, I am still the girl who went to Nun school a year and three month, devoted all my life to serve christ and was suppose to be made an official Nun tomorrow.
" You now have the guts to blame it on the innocent father" she yelled, almost pulling the ceiling down.
" honey, calm down, don't waste your energy on this slut" my father moved closer, clutching my mother's shoulders to himself and that was all it took for the tears to slide down my cheeks.
I thought I had drowned down all the tears I had. In my eyes, apparently I was wrong, so wrong.
" Mum, dad, i am so - "My words got stuck in my throats the moment my dad's hands rested on my cheek as I choke out a sob.
" Get your shameful self out of my sight and lock your room, you're grounded." he spared a disdainful glare before adding " for life."
Not willing to spend anymore second with my parents, I held my cheek as I ran up to my room.
The tears barely made me shut the door before they came crashing down. My kneels felt weak and jelly that I had to squat down my knees.
I hate myself, I hate my parents, I hate that this kind of thing had to happen to me, mostly I hate father Paul.
He has ruined my life. My mind traced back to all that happen two days ago.
2 days earlier...
I knelt on the stone floor of the convent’s prayer hall, my knees raw from hours of forced stillness. My white habit draped loosely over my fragile frame, and my hands, clasped in front of my chest, trembled not from devotion but dread.
I've lived all my 22 years of age running away from anything sinful, I choose to remain pure and holy, attend mass on time and bible studies but my parents do not think that counts except I fully dedicate my life to christ..
Becoming a nun is the only way for me to serve christ better in their eyes, I wanted christ, but I don't want to be a nun, but I guess none of them matters now.
I'll be observing the sisters' night and probably put in solitude like I've seen other sisters, and when the sun rises tomorrow, my life__ christ I give and my freedom utterly and totally restricted.
" Roxanne, eyes on the cross," Mother Superior’s voice called on, and my hands impulsively went to the sacred scarf I had tied to cover my hairs and I turned to the cross.
The cross was a shiny but old wooden sculpture, I guess it was there before I was even born and brought to life, but the honour to the cross still remained intact.
It's a sculpture of jesus on the cross, and beside it is a giant sculpture of our sacred mother__ Mary.
I could tell every shape of it, obviously, because I've spent most of my life cleaning every spec of dust from it when it's the cleaning day. The popes were always on the speculation that I was gonna break the sculpture one day, probably because the holy communion cup breaks from my hands every single time... unintentionally, of course, but I was glad I'd be disappointing them.
“Tonight is your last night as a daughter of the world,” Mother Superior’s voice echoed through the vaulted chamber. “Tomorrow, you marry Christ.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep me from laughing — or screaming.
Christ had never asked for my hand. My parents had made the vow on my behalf, bargaining away my future like cattle in exchange for status, reputation, and salvation.
What kind of salvation destroyed a soul before it was even lived?As the others dispersed, i stayed on my knees they were scorching hot due to the candle wax that are already dripping to the floor, but i was used to kneeling down anyway. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the worn altar. I stared up at the crucifix.
" Sister Roxanne," i heard from behind, and I zapped up, making sure I cleaned every trace of tears in my eyes before turning to my caller with a big smile.
" Yes, Father Paul," I answered in my usual cheerful voice. If there's anyone that can keep their pain hidden, then it's me, I was brought up that way.
" Bless you, my child, i need to talk to you about the conduct for tomorrow." He announced, and I nodded and turned to follow him as he had already started walking away.
I watched him push the door to his room open and all hairs on my back stand still, which was weird.
Father Paul is a well-known respected father, rumour has It that it's is 36 years of being a celibate.
He dropped a glass of cup in front of me and also for himself, and that's when I actually noticed he had gone to bring water.
" Thank you, Father," I answered and put the cup on my lips, sipping the water slowly.
The only time we are allowed to enter a father domain is when we come to clean, nothing else should bring a nun to a father's room.
" Drink up," he urged, and I did just that, this time gulping all of it down.
I think i saw a smirk on his lips, but it was gone like it was never there. My eyes twitched as I grew uncomfortable.
" How do you feel now? " he asked, but his voice doesn't sound like the father Paul I know. Is there supposed to be 15 Father paul or pauls?
" What did you do? " I asked as and my voice came out wrong.
He drugged me.
I watched him remove his rosary and then took a step closer to me.
" You can't do this, Father." I managed to mutter, but it didn't hold any weight.
" i can," he replied, and that was it. He tore my habit.
