When Stars Die (The Stars Trilogy) Read Online Free
Author: Amber Skye Forbes
pain.
Beside me, a plump girl vomits on the floor, then whimpers.
Once Mother Aurelia finishes with the last two girls, I hear her settle her immense bulk behind me. My heart pounds like galloping horse hooves across cobblestones. I squeeze my eyes shut, suck in my bottom lip, and dig my fingers into the chippings. Shivers tease my spine in anticipation over what she’s going to do next.
Time slows down. The world closes in around me. The breathing of the girls pounds through my ears like a steam train. Mother Aurelia shifts behind me. I want to scream, Just do it! Nausea overtakes me, then there is a sharp sting across my back. A scream funnels through my throat, clipped short by the gritting of my teeth. The tears don’t hesitate this time. They fall over my lashes in tiny streams. I’m certain each tear that falls pulls me farther and farther from being professed. My heart sinks down to my knees, which have gone numb and are cracked, beads of black cherry blood staining the chips and floor.
Each lash seems to take an eternity. I constantly have to remind myself why I’m doing this, and that reason is for my little brother Nathaniel. The hope is that once I become a professed nun, Deus can forgive him for being a witch, for being the epitome of sin, for being something through no fault of his own. I’m his older sister, I should take responsibility for what he is, so I should suffer and serve Deus until my death.
On the sixth lash, several of the girls start whimpering. I want to join them, but I keep my cries frozen at the back of my throat.
On the seventh lash, a welt breaks open. The cries frozen at the back of my throat turn involuntary, and one leaps from my lips before I even know it’s coming. It’s a small, pathetic cry, but enough for Mother Aurelia to beat me harder on the eighth lash with her disapproving leather strap. Warm blood trickles down my back, forming a tight knot in my stomach not even a knife could pry apart. At this moment, I think I prefer the stares of Sash and Asch to this. They can watch me in my sleep for all I care, so long as I never have to go through this again.
The tenth lash hits with such force I actually have to plant my palms flat against the floor to keep from falling on my face. My hands clench as I wait for the next lash; it doesn’t come.
Mother Aurelia clicks on over to the next girl. All I can do is sigh in relief that it’s over while internally cursing myself for letting that one cry escape.
For all I know, one cry could cost me the entire initiation process. Then I’ll have to endure another year of silence, isolation, endless prayer, bland meals that make us malnourished, a cold winter with a meager fire, and endless chastising for every little thing, like a drooped fork or a wimple put on wrongly. Life is not like that when we first enter, but sisters are slowly weaned from luxuries as the years pass. Upon our third year, luxuries are removed entirely to prepare us for the professed life.
Mother Aurelia makes her rounds of beating girls. They all cry out, some more than others. I count the lashes for each girl. The Mother Superior is inconsistent: twelve lashes for one, fifteen for another, ten, eleven, and the next two are more than ten. I wonder if the number of lashes is deliberate, or if she just beats however long she feels like with each one.
Colette doesn’t even cry out when it’s her turn. It’s as if she has no nerves in her entire body. Either that, or she has Deus’s divine favor or something. Better yet, Mother Aurelia hits her only five times. That wonderful Seven Deadly Sin of jealousy takes over, and I shift my knees to bring forth a sharp pain that dispels the feeling. A Seven Deadly Sin is the worst thing in the world. Seven Deadly Sins breed witches, after all, a punishment from Deus for the evils of mankind. Should I ever decide to have a child, I don’t want my child to be a witch. I don’t want my child to suffer the emotional
Beside me, a plump girl vomits on the floor, then whimpers.
Once Mother Aurelia finishes with the last two girls, I hear her settle her immense bulk behind me. My heart pounds like galloping horse hooves across cobblestones. I squeeze my eyes shut, suck in my bottom lip, and dig my fingers into the chippings. Shivers tease my spine in anticipation over what she’s going to do next.
Time slows down. The world closes in around me. The breathing of the girls pounds through my ears like a steam train. Mother Aurelia shifts behind me. I want to scream, Just do it! Nausea overtakes me, then there is a sharp sting across my back. A scream funnels through my throat, clipped short by the gritting of my teeth. The tears don’t hesitate this time. They fall over my lashes in tiny streams. I’m certain each tear that falls pulls me farther and farther from being professed. My heart sinks down to my knees, which have gone numb and are cracked, beads of black cherry blood staining the chips and floor.
Each lash seems to take an eternity. I constantly have to remind myself why I’m doing this, and that reason is for my little brother Nathaniel. The hope is that once I become a professed nun, Deus can forgive him for being a witch, for being the epitome of sin, for being something through no fault of his own. I’m his older sister, I should take responsibility for what he is, so I should suffer and serve Deus until my death.
On the sixth lash, several of the girls start whimpering. I want to join them, but I keep my cries frozen at the back of my throat.
On the seventh lash, a welt breaks open. The cries frozen at the back of my throat turn involuntary, and one leaps from my lips before I even know it’s coming. It’s a small, pathetic cry, but enough for Mother Aurelia to beat me harder on the eighth lash with her disapproving leather strap. Warm blood trickles down my back, forming a tight knot in my stomach not even a knife could pry apart. At this moment, I think I prefer the stares of Sash and Asch to this. They can watch me in my sleep for all I care, so long as I never have to go through this again.
The tenth lash hits with such force I actually have to plant my palms flat against the floor to keep from falling on my face. My hands clench as I wait for the next lash; it doesn’t come.
Mother Aurelia clicks on over to the next girl. All I can do is sigh in relief that it’s over while internally cursing myself for letting that one cry escape.
For all I know, one cry could cost me the entire initiation process. Then I’ll have to endure another year of silence, isolation, endless prayer, bland meals that make us malnourished, a cold winter with a meager fire, and endless chastising for every little thing, like a drooped fork or a wimple put on wrongly. Life is not like that when we first enter, but sisters are slowly weaned from luxuries as the years pass. Upon our third year, luxuries are removed entirely to prepare us for the professed life.
Mother Aurelia makes her rounds of beating girls. They all cry out, some more than others. I count the lashes for each girl. The Mother Superior is inconsistent: twelve lashes for one, fifteen for another, ten, eleven, and the next two are more than ten. I wonder if the number of lashes is deliberate, or if she just beats however long she feels like with each one.
Colette doesn’t even cry out when it’s her turn. It’s as if she has no nerves in her entire body. Either that, or she has Deus’s divine favor or something. Better yet, Mother Aurelia hits her only five times. That wonderful Seven Deadly Sin of jealousy takes over, and I shift my knees to bring forth a sharp pain that dispels the feeling. A Seven Deadly Sin is the worst thing in the world. Seven Deadly Sins breed witches, after all, a punishment from Deus for the evils of mankind. Should I ever decide to have a child, I don’t want my child to be a witch. I don’t want my child to suffer the emotional
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