Darkest Sin

by Ashton Blackthorne

  The driver carried my two suitcases inside following us. My entire seventeen years had been reduced to those two small bags.

  As we walked into the school, immediately my senses were overwhelmed with the strong, musty odor of age. Years of repression also contributed to the heavy, cloistering aroma. I felt myself falling back into the 19th century. My father walked around admiring the Victorian architecture as I felt my gorge rise in my throat.

  Just then, a heavy door squeaked open and a middle aged woman dressed in a nun’s habit gestured to us.

  “I’m Sister Bridget. I assume you are Mr. James.” She nodded to my father to sit. She hadn’t even glanced my way yet.

  Her skin was crisscrossed with fine lines. Her lips were an angry red slash. She had a rather large pale brown birthmark her right cheek. The shape reminded me of the African continent. Her voice didn’t have a typical British accent. Since I had spent every Christmas with my father’s family in Ireland, my ears detected a familiar Irish lilt.

  “Mr. James, you have agreed to leave your daughter with us until she gives birth, is that correct?”

  “Yes, Sister. I’m also hoping that you can improve her mental and spiritual life as well. Obviously, she’s lacking in both areas.”

  Sister Bridget gave a curt nod.

  “Obviously. Well, Mr. James, while our establishment is quite old we do enjoy the luxuries of modern medicine. Every medical need of your daughter’s will be met in order to ensure she gives birth to a healthy baby. No need for an innocent baby to suffer for the sins of its’ mother.”

  I cringed. She still hadn’t made eye contact with me.

  “Just to be clear, Mr. James, we have already arranged for a wonderful, local Catholic family to adopt the baby when she gives birth.”

  “That’s exactly what we want. And no one will know she was ever here? I’m rather prominent in New York society I can’t have this getting out.”

  Always he was concerned about his precious reputation. It sickened me.

  “Discretion is the key, Mr. James. Most of the parents of the girls here are faced with the same issue. A sinful child can be such a burden.”

  Finally, she fixed her gaze upon me. She looked at me as if I were a loathsome creature rather than a young woman.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. James. The sisters and I will assist your daughter with learning how to atone for her sins. When you retrieve her in nine months, I expect she’ll be quite different, for the better I might add.”

  “Veronica, I will come for you after the birth and we shall return to New York. Please listen to what the sisters tell you and perhaps we can make a fresh start.” He extended his arms to me. I buried my face in his coat heavy sobs erupting from me. Despite my anger at him, he was leaving me all alone in a foreign country with nuns I expected would deal quite harshly with me.

  “Please, don’t go, Daddy! Please! I’ll be good, I promise!”

  He pried my fingers from his arm.

  “Now, Veronica, you’ll be fine. The sisters will take good care of you.”

  After a few minutes of struggling, he left the building. I was tempted to run after him, but Sister Bridget’s bony fingers found my arm.

  “Sit down, girl. Let me tell you what you can expect living here. This is not a summer camp or a luxury boarding school. You are here because you committed the sin of fornication. As a result, you have also found yourself pregnant with a child out of wedlock.”

  This was 1997. What the hell century was she living in? There were millions out of wedlock births every year!

  “You will likely find our accommodations less than the five star hotels you are used to frequenting. Our rooms are modest. Our nourishment is modest. You will be given three square meals a day. They will not be lavish, but they will nourish you and your unborn child. You will work while you are here.”

  “My father said I was to attend school here.”

  “Don’t interrupt me, girl!” She smacked the desk with her palm.

  “You will attend classes here from 7 AM until 10 AM. The rest of the day will entail work. You will do penance for your sins by working. The sisters and I find that hard work enriches the soul and gives the mind a healthy focus. All the girls here work daily despite their pregnancies.”

  I shrank back into the plastic cushioned chair.

  “What…what kind of work?”

  She smirked at me.

  “I expect you’re a spoiled, pampered society girl. Never worked a minute in your life. Well, here you will do the chores you are assigned. We were given this building by the historical society to renovate and maintain. You will do such chores as mopping the floors, cleaning the bathrooms, washing clothes. Sometimes we have you do outdoor work on pleasant days.”

  I swallowed hard. I wasn’t afraid of work just hard work while I was pregnant.

  “We have prayer three times daily. You will be sharing a room with another wayward girl like yourself.”

  She stood up indicating I should follow her.

  “Another thing, girl. We don’t condone the use of cosmetics here. You will keep yourself clean and neat. No fancy soaps, perfumes, or other toiletries.” With that, she reached up and jerked out the jeweled clip I had in my hair.

  “No jewelry with exception of religious jewelry. No ‘exotic’ undergarments. You will be given a nightdress, plain white underwear, and a uniform to wear.” She eyed the beautiful crucifix around my neck hanging from a white gold chain. It had belonged to my mother.

  I clutched my bags to me.

  “I can’t wear my own clothes? But…”

  She snatched my suitcases from me.

  “You will have these returned to you when you leave. Come now, we have much to do.”

  As the heavy door to her office closed, I felt the outside world being closed off to me. The place looked like a prison. As I walked behind Sister Bridget, we turned off the long corridor into the right wing of the building.

  Dozens of rooms were housed in that wing. The ceilings were quite high, but the windows were unnaturally small. Finally, near the end of the corridor Sister Bridget turned and opened a door.

  “Here is another wayward girl to join us, Hannah.” Sister Bridget stood in the doorway to a sparsely furnished room. It was small with two twin beds adorned with plain white bedspreads. There was a small window between them. The walls were a sickly beige color and bare. The only decorations being a large crucifix and a portrait of the Virgin Mary.

  Lovely.

  “Pleased to meet you.” A girl about my age with brown hair cut unevenly extended her hand. She spoke with a heavy Cockney accent. Her stomach swelled slightly beneath the heavy, ugly brown uniform.

  “Here are your garments, a bar of soap, toothbrush, and comb. Prayers are at five PM followed by dinner.”

  With that, the hateful nun disappeared.

  Taking the items she’d given me, I walked over to the vacant bed and sank down. As I suspected, the mattress was like a rock.

  “No pillow?” I looked around.

  Hannah shook her head.

  “The sisters say that earthly comforts create a desire to sin. If you want to, you can ball up your towel to use as a pillow. That’s what I do.”

  Hannah sat down on her bed.

  “You’re very pretty.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hannah shook her head sadly.

  “That won’t serve you well here.” She said ominously.

  Again, I felt my stomach twitch. Feeling faint, I leaned back on the bed.

  “What happened to your hair?”

  Hannah again looked sad running her hands over her ragged hair.

  “Hope you never find out.” With that, she curled up on her bed.

  The next morning at 5 AM sharp we were awoken by the sound of the church bells ringing.

  “Get up!” Hannah hissed bent over me. I rubbed my eyes and looked around. I was so hoping this had all been just a bad dream. Seeing the Spartan room, I knew this was
no dream.

  Sitting down at breakfast, I was surrounded by several hundred other unfortunate ‘wayward’ girls in various stages of pregnancy. They were all wearing the same clothes I was a drab, dark blue uniform with a blue and white apron buttoned in the back. They wore the same heavy, black lace-up shoes I was wearing. Their heads were hung low. Those who had long hair looked like they had strings upon their shoulders. They all had numbers sewn onto their uniforms just like I did.

  I sat down next to Hannah. Soon a cart baring small bowls of porridge were served to us. That and an orange was to be our morning meal. I looked around as each girl sat with her hands folded and head bowed. Hannah poked me beneath the table to do the same.

  Another girl named Serena stood up and read a passage from the Bible. After a brief prayer, mealtime was to begin.

  Sister Bridget had warned me that no luxuries were given here, but I had at least expected full, nourishing meals. I felt like I was living a scene from Oliver Twist.

  I picked up my spoon and took my first bite of porridge. A horrid, bitter taste filled my mouth. I’d never tasted anything this bad. It tasted like vinegar had been added to it. I looked around for a sugar bowl, but of course there was none.

  “How do you eat this? It’s so bitter.” I whispered to Hannah. Talking was forbidden at mealtimes.

  “Yes, there’s vinegar in it. Sister Bridget says it’s to remind us of the bitterness of our sins.”

  “I can’t eat this.” I pushed my bowl away.

  Hannah elbowed me in the side.

  “You have to. If you don’t, they’ll force it down your throat. Squeeze your orange into it. That sweetens it a bit.”

  “I hear talking! No talking!” Sister Margaret, a hateful old woman, walked by us.

  I bent my head and squeezed my orange into the bowl. Stirring it around, I found that the sweetness of the orange made it more palatable.

  As I finished the last mouthful of that hideous muck, I spotted the long table behind the partition where the sisters ate their meals.

  The long table was covered with bowls of freshly toasted bread, plates of sausages and black pudding, bowls of beans, and eggs. A traditional English breakfast.

  I shook my head. What a bunch of hypocrites!

  The rest of the day didn’t improve. After a few hours of lessons, we were assigned our chores for the week. I was sent to work on the floors in the unused portion of the building. We had three floors to mop while kneeling on the hard floor with a scrub brush. It was backbreaking work to say the least especially while pregnant.

  Once a week, we had church services with a sermon delivered by Father Patrick who was from Ireland.

  “Young ladies, turn from your sinful ways! Those feelings you have stirring desires within you are straight from the devil himself. Don’t let him seduce you with his lies. Keep your legs together and your thoughts pure. Sex before marriage is a sin! An abomination in the eyes of the Lord. Don’t allow temptation to ruin you. Stay away from the opposite sex until you are married within a church by an ordained priest. Only then will your unions be blessed.”

  I groaned inwardly. I think Father Patrick had learned that sermon from my own father. I fondled my crucifix necklace and thought of my mother. If she were still alive, would I be sitting here today? I decided no, I wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t have allowed my father to send me away like this.

  “Veronica! Time for confession!” Hannah hissed in my ear.

  Standing up, I made the sign of the cross as I moved from the pew over to the confessional line.

  Hannah disappeared into the confessional booth before me. Several minutes passed. It was taking her an unusual amount of time.

  Suddenly, the door to the confessional flew open. Hannah emerged clutching her blouse to her chest. She was visibly distraught as she raced out of the chapel.

  After confession, it was time to retire to our rooms. Hannah was sitting on the bed crying.

  “Hannah, what’s wrong?” I sat down beside her. After a few weeks, we’d grown close.

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. She threw herself on her bed and covered her face with her pillow.

  I stroked her back. She was due any day now. I was happy for her as it meant she’d be leaving soon, but I would be sad to see her go.

  “I can’t stay here anymore, Veronica. I just can’t.” She sat up holding her pillow in her arms.

  “It’s a nightmare, Hannah, I know. But how will you escape?” I had daydreamed about escaping this prison ever since I had arrived.

  “I don’t know, Veronica. It’s…it’s Father Patrick…”

  I narrowed my eyes trying to understand what had happened.

  “What about him?”

  “He does things…awful things. I can’t take it anymore, Veronica!”

  A sickening realization dawned on me. What she was accusing Father Patrick of was repulsive. It frightened and disturbed me. What kind of place was this?

  “Did you talk to one of the sisters?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, they wouldn’t believe me anyway. I just need to leave. I want to get out of here now!” She clutched her stomach.

  “You’re due to give birth any day.”

  She shook her head tears spilling down her face. She got up and sat over by the window.

  “I’ll figure it out, Veronica.”

  I worried about Hannah the rest of the day. As night fell, I heard her tossing and turning in bed. Finally, I drifted off to sleep.

  A few moments later, I heard a scuffle on Hannah’s side of the room. The room was pitch black. I rolled over to look and see what was going on. Several sisters were in the room holding Hannah down.

  “What’s going on?” I asked peering through the darkness.

  “Veronica, go back to bed.”

  “Is Hannah in labor?” I heard Hannah crying and pleading with the sisters not to take her baby.

  “Go back to bed.” I recognized the stern voice of Sister Bridget.

  “Veronica! Help me.” Hannah’s voice moaned.

  One of the sisters accidentally switched on the lights. Hannah’s white nightgown was covered in blood. She was bent over with two of the sisters holding her up. Sister Bridget stood over her with the willow switch in hand.

  “Hannah!” I cried out trying to get out of bed.

  “Sit down, girl, unless you want to be in trouble.” Sister Bridget swung the switch menacingly.

  “Veronica!” Hannah reached out for me with bloodied hands as they drug her out of the room.

  I raced to follow her, but Sister Hazel Marie pushed me back.

  “Stay here, child. This is not your concern.”

  I fell back on the bed sobbing. Where were they taking her?

  My blouse was soaked with tears. I hadn’t even realized I’d been sobbing that much until Ash brushed my cheeks.

  “Ronnie, I have no words. That’s just unbelievably awful. What happened to your roommate?”

  I blotted my eyes with his handkerchief. The winter sky was grey and snow was starting to come down harder. I searched his eyes looking for signs that he was disgusted or appalled by what I’d just said.

  All I saw in his eyes was love.

  I stood up and walked over to the window.

  “They took her away. When I asked the sisters about it, they simply said she’d given birth and went home.”

  Ash sighed taking a sip of his scotch.

  “That was good, wasn’t it, Ronnie? Sounds like it was a nightmare there.”

  I laughed sarcastically.

  “Oh, that’s not the half of it, Ash. But I don’t think Hannah was okay. Two weeks after she’d been taken away one night, I overheard Hannah’s mother outside arguing with Sister Bridget. She was demanding to know where her daughter was.”

  Ash furrowed his brow.

  “So where was she?”

  “I never found out. Sister Bridget claimed she’d given birth then ran away. Later, Sister Patricia wa
s talking with Sister Bridget saying that Hannah had been a ‘real problem’ and she was glad that her father had taken her home.”

  Ash swirled the liquor in his glass.

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Ronnie. Were her parents divorced?”

  “That’s what scared me, Ash. Hannah’s biological father was deceased. He died when she was a baby. Hannah’s mother had never remarried, so I was never sure who she was referring to as Hannah’s father.”

  I choked up again. Ash rose from his chair to pull me into his arms.

  “So how did you ever escape? Did your father come for you?”

  I swallowed hard. I had never wanted to tell Ash how I came to leave St. Augustine’s and what happened to my baby, but if we were going to have a future together, he was going to have to know.

  After Hannah left, I found the days nearly impossible to endure. Hannah had become like the sister I’d never had in the months we had roomed together. They never gave me another roommate, so the last two months I lived there were quite lonely. For months, I had watched the sisters beat and torture the other girls. I had managed to remain unscathed by the more sadistic punishments, but after Hannah was mysteriously removed from the school I knew more than ever I had to escape before I too met some unspeakable demise.

  Since Hannah left, I’d been watching the gardener and his assistants who regularly came twice a week. The gardener was an older man, but his two assistants were young men around my own age. Finally, one beautiful autumn day Sister Cathleen sent me along with several other girls to hang laundry on the line.

  As I bent over to pick up a sheet out of the basket, I noticed one of the young men staring at me. I glanced down and saw my blouse had opened up a bit to reveal my swelling breasts. Since becoming pregnant, I’d gone up two cup sizes so my breasts were huge. The clunky, ill-fitting bra the sisters had given me would no longer fit so I had taken to wrapping a bandage beneath my breasts to give them support.

  He stood there watching me as I finished hanging the sheets. Sister Cathleen was preoccupied with scolding the other girls for some slight infraction, so I slipped around the corner of the building winking at the young man.