Untitled

The bedroom smelled like strawberry lip balm, vanilla perfume, and weed. It was a suffocatingly pink oasis, a fortress built of silk curtains and tangled fairy lights that cast a hazy, rose-colored glow over the afternoon.

Azzi lay draped across the other girl’s chest like a discarded satin ribbon. She couldn't even remember how they had ended up here, some party over the weekend, a flurry of texts, and now a humid Tuesday afternoon spent tangled in sheets. Her nightgown was a pale, blush-pink slip trimmed with delicate white lace and it was bunched around her thighs, the silk cool against the girl's warm skin. Azzi had one leg hooked carelessly over her hips, anchoring herself to the mattress.

"Don't hog the cherry," the girl murmured, her voice thick with lethargy. She reached up, her fingers tangling in the thick curls of Azzi’s hair, gently pulling until Azzi tilted her head back.

Azzi smirked, her lips stained a dark berry from a fresh coat of gloss. She took one last, deep drag from the joint pinched between her perfectly manicured pink nails, watching the orange ember glow before she leaned down. Pressing her lips loosely against the girl's, she exhaled the thick, milky smoke directly into her mouth.

The girl swallowed it with a quiet gasp, a lazy smile breaking across her face as she inhaled.

They had been in this bed since noon, the July sun baking the world outside, but inside, the blinds were drawn tightly against the neighborhood.

"You're a menace," the girl whispered, taking the joint from Azzi's fingers to ash it into a small, ceramic saucer shaped like a blooming lotus.

"I'm a delight," Azzi corrected, shifting her weight so she could rest her chin on the girl's collarbone. She looked up at the ceiling, watching the remnants of the smoke drift toward the spinning ceiling fan, fracturing into gray ribbons against the pink light. "My mother thinks I’m at the library. She thinks I’m expanding my mind."

The sudden, harsh rattle of the bedroom doorknob broke the haze like a gunshot.

Azzi didn't even have time to untangle her legs before the door swung open, hitting the stopper with a heavy thud.

Her mother stood in the doorway.

She didn't scream. She didn't gasp. She just stood there, her eyes taking in the bunched-up pink silk, the intertwined limbs, the lingering cloud of smoke, and the ash tray on the nightstand. Her face didn't twist with anger; it hardened into a cold, disgusted detachment.

She looked at the girl beneath Azzi with complete anonymity, her expression radiating contempt for the stranger in her house.

"Get your things and leave through the back door," her mother said. "Do not come back here."

The girl scrambled out from under Azzi, her face pale, frantically grabbing her sneakers and shirt in a blind panic. Azzi sat up, her nightgown slipping slightly off her shoulder, her chest tightening as the high violently evaporated from her system.

Her mother didn't even watch the girl bolt down the hallway. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at Azzi as she turned on her heel.

"Put some clothes on and come downstairs. Now," her mother commanded, her voice echoing sharply off the walls before she strode away, leaving the bedroom door wide open.

Azzi didn't reach for her clothes right away. Instead, her fingers crept back to the nightstand, her nails pinching the dying joint. She struck her lighter, and took one massive, burning hit. She held the smoke deep in her lungs, letting it numb the sharp edges of her panic, before exhaling a thick cloud into the empty doorway.

Only then did she slide into a silk robe, the same shade of blush pink as her nightgown and head down the stairs.

Her parents were waiting in the living room. Tim and Katie sat on the dark leather sofa, the drapes drawn tight to shut out the brilliant July sun, burying the room in a grim, solemn twilight.

Before Azzi’s foot even cleared the bottom step, her mother held out an open palm. "Give me your phone, Azzi."

Azzi stopped, her hand instinctively tightening around the device in her robe pocket. "Are you serious? You just kicked a guest out of my room, and now you’re taking my phone? I’m sixteen!"

"You live under our roof, which means you abide by our laws," Tim slammed his fist down on the dark wood coffee table, the sudden crack echoing like a gunshot through the quiet house. He stood up. "Give your mother the phone. Now."

"No!" Azzi yelled back, her voice ringing with the fierce, stubborn pride she had spent her whole life weaponizing against them. "You can’t just lock me out of the world because you don't like who I hang out with!"

"Who you hang out with?" Tim took a step forward, his eyes wild with a mix of rage and profound disgust. "We raised you in the light of the Catholic Church, Azzi! We gave you a foundation. We taught you that a woman has a specific, sacred place in society, a divine duty of modesty, purity, and grace. And you? You drag trash into our home, desecrating your body, doing drugs, and throwing your sickness in our faces!"

Azzi let out a loud, harsh laugh that cut through his lecture like a blade. "A sacred place? Is that what you call it? Your religion is a joke and I am not playing along."

"Azzi, stop it!" Katie cried out, her voice cracking as she buried her face in her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were bloodshot and brimming with a terrifyingly raw, desperate grief. "You have no idea what you are doing to us. You have no idea how agonizing it is to spend every single day of our lives waking up to the knowledge that our daughter; our only daughter, is actively choosing to rot in hell for all eternity! You are sentencing your soul to damnation, and you're forcing us to watch it!"

"Hell isn't real, Mom!" Azzi screamed, the sheer absurdity of the guilt trip making her blood boil. She stepped closer, her chest heaving underneath her pink silk, her voice vibrating with absolute fury. "There is no fire waiting for me! There is no one in the sky counting who I kiss or what I smoke! You two are completely brainwashed by a cult!"

"Silence!" Tim bellowed, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deafening register. In two swift strides, he bridged the distance between them, his hand gripping Azzi’s wrist. He violently wrenched her hand out of her pocket, tearing the phone from her grip and slamming it into Katie’s waiting palms.

"Let go of me!" Azzi shoved at his chest, her heart hammering against her ribs as the compliance was forced upon her.

"Go upstairs," Tim ordered, his finger pointing rigidly toward the staircase, his body stiff. "You are confined to your room. Do not speak, do not come down, and do not look at us until you are told to do so. Move."

Azzi stared at them, her breaths coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her mother wouldn't look at her, while her father stood like guard at the gates of a prison. The room upstairs didn't feel like hers anymore; it felt like a cell.

Without another word, Azzi turned and stormed back up the stairs, her bare feet slamming against the wood.

Azzi slammed her bedroom door shut, twisting the lock until it clicked with sharp, useless finality. The pink walls of her room, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt. They were a bright, vibrant lie wrapped around a reality that was rapidly closing in on her.

Her hands were shaking. She marched over to the nightstand, grabbed the half-smoked joint from the ceramic and lit it again. She didn't care that her mother had just caught her. She didn't care that the smell would seep under the door. She needed the smoke to drown out the echoes of her father’s booming voice and her mother’s choked, desperate tears.

She took a massive drag, closing her eyes as the hot, harsh smoke burned its way down her throat. Rotting in hell. The words replayed in her head, heavy and suffocating. She exhaled, watching the gray cloud rise up to meet the glow of her fairy lights. It was so pathetic.

Dropping the joint back into the saucer, she grabbed a stray piece of notebook paper and a pen from her desk. She crawled back onto the center of her bed, her robe pooling around her legs, and pressed the tip of the pen into the paper. The anger in her chest was too large to keep inside, vibrating behind her ribs until it forced its way out onto the page.

She wrote quickly, her handwriting jagged, sharp, and entirely unapologetic:

You weep for where my soul will rot,

and pray for fires I have not seen,

yet drop the heavy iron bars

across the home where I should breathe.

If sulfur is the price to pay

to finally escape your sight,

then take me to your lake of fire

it's warmer than this house tonight.

When she finished, she threw the pen across the room. It hit the wall with a quiet click. She stared at the words, the ink still wet under the lights, a bitter, defiant smile touching her lips.

—

A full, agonizing month crawled by in absolute isolation. Without her phone, the bedroom had officially stopped being a sanctuary and became a holding cell. Azzi spent her days pacing the floor, watching the summer fade through her window, writing and listening to the muffled murmurs of her parents downstairs.

Then, on a humid August morning, the door unlocked.

Katie walked in. She didn't look angry anymore; she looked completely hollowed out, her eyes flat and entirely detached as she walked over to the bed. Without saying a word, she dropped a single, crisp sheet of white paper onto Azzi’s mattress.

Azzi sat up, her brow furrowing as she picked it up. Printed across the top intraditional serif font was the heading: ST. MARY’S ACADEMY FOR GIRLS: INTAKE AND CONDUCT GUIDELINES.

Beneath it was a meticulous, exhaustive list detailing exactly what a student could and could not bring into the facility.

Electronics: All personal electronic devices (cellular phones, music players, cameras, laptops, or recording equipment).

Media & Literature: Secular books, magazines, posters, and personal diaries containing unvetted content.

Cosmetics & Hygiene: All makeup items (foundation, mascara, eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick, lip gloss, and nail polish). All dyed or artificially scented hair products, gels, and sprays. Perfumes, body mists, and scented lotions.

Attire & Aesthetics: Any clothing featuring bright colors, patterns, logos, or secular graphic prints. Any form of revealing clothing, including shorts, tank tops, skirts falling above the knee, or form-fitting athleisure. Silk, satin, lace, or sheer fabrics.

PERMITTED ITEMS

School Uniform: To be issued upon arrival at the intake office.

Daily Attire: Plain, loose-fitting sweaters (solid gray, navy blue, or black only). Plain denim jeans (no rips, fades, or embellishments). Loose-fitting dress pants (solid black or navy blue).

Bedding: two sets of twin-sized sheets. One standard wool blanket.

Literary & Devotional: One standard Holy Bible. One approved devotional guide. One personal rosary. One plain wooden or silver crucifix.

Expression: One standard composition notebook and one standard graphite pencil.

Undergarments: Plain, functional undergarments (white, beige, or black only).

Azzi stared at the words, her mind short-circuiting as she read the list over and over again. The text blurred together; no silk, no makeup, no bright colors. Up until this exact second, she thought her confinement was just a brutal, summer-long grounding. She thought she was just waiting out her parents' latest religious tantrum.

"What is this?" Azzi’s voice was suddenly very small, the paper trembling between her fingernails. "What is St. Mary’s?"

"It’s a boarding school," Katie said, her tone cold and unyielding. "Your father and I have spent the last month finalizing the paperwork. We cannot salvage your soul in this house anymore, Azzi. You are too clever at finding ways to sin."

"A boarding school?" Azzi booted out of bed, the shock hitting her like a blow to the chest. "You’re throwing me out? For the whole year? Mom, you can't do this, I have school here, I have my life—"

"You have a contagion," Katie cut her off, her voice cracking slightly with that familiar, terrifying martyrdom. "And we are doing what is necessary to cure you. You leave in two days. Friday morning, six o'clock sharp."

Katie turned back toward the door, pausing just before the threshold to look over her shoulder at the vibrant, pink sanctuary her daughter had built.

"I suggest you start packing," her mother whispered. "Though looking at that list, you'll find you have very little to take."

The door closed, and the lock clicked into place once more.

Azzi stood frozen in the center of her room, the intake sheet clutched in her hand. She looked around at her silk curtains, her string lights, her vanilla candles, and the rows of colorful clothes in her closet. In forty-eight hours, everything that made her feel alive, everything that smelled like sweetness and rebellion, was going to be stripped away. She was being cast out into the gray.

—

Azzi didn't cry. The shock evaporated within seconds, replaced by a cold, sharp spike of defiance. If her parents thought they were going to march her into some boarding school like a defeated prisoner, they had entirely underestimated who they were dealing with.

She dragged her large, black suitcase out from the back of her closet, throwing it open onto the center of her pink mattress.

First, she followed the rules. She tossed in the plain denim jeans, a few oversized black and navy sweaters, and the basic white undergarments. She even grabbed a dusty silver rosary from her dresser drawer, dropping it right on top so it would be the first thing anyone saw if they unzipped the bag. It was the perfect camouflage.

Then, she went to work.

Azzi walked over to her full-length mirror, reaching her hand high up behind the heavy wooden frame. Her fingers grazed the cardboard box she had taped to the back months ago. She pulled it down, a triumphant smirk breaking across her lips. Inside was an old iPhone she’d bought off a senior last year, fully charged and completely wiped of her parents' tracking apps, along with its charging cord. She shoved it deep into the lining of her suitcase, burying it inside the foot of a thick wool sock.

Next was her contraband run. She tore through her secret hiding spots with practiced efficiency. From inside an old hollowed-out textbook, she pulled out three pristine packs of Marlboro Lights, a weed pen, and a pink Bic lighter. She packed them flat against the bottom structure of the suitcase.

From her vanity, she bypassed the plain guidelines and grabbed her expensive hair serums, her vanilla perfume, her favorite lip glosses, and a full palette of dark eyeshadows. She stuffed them into a large black makeup bag, hiding it beneath the heavy folds of her winter sweaters.

She marched over and grabbed a set of bright pink cotton sheets she had in the linen closet. She folded them tight, wedging them into the corners of the bag.

But she wasn't done. Azzi knelt by her bookshelf, pulling up the loose floorboard hidden beneath her rug. Out came four thick, plastic-wrapped lesbian romance novels that she hadn't even had the chance to read yet. She stacked them flat against the hard plastic shell of the suitcase, overlaying them with two blank, colorful notebooks and a handful of black ink pens.

Finally, she opened her underwear drawer. She didn't touch a single piece of cotton. Instead, she scooped up every single piece of silk and lace she owned; blush pink slips, sheer black nightgowns, revealing crop tops, and delicate, lacy lingerie sets. They were light, compressible, and easy to hide. She stuffed them into the gaps between her clothes, lining the perimeter of her suitcase with the fabrics her mother called a damnation.

When she zipped the suitcase shut, it was heavy, bursting at the seams, and practically vibrating with sin. Azzi stood over it, her hands resting on the handles, breathing heavily.

They could take her phone. They could lock her in a car and drive her to a school surrounded by dark woods and iron crosses. But when she opened this bag in her new room, she would still be Azzi.

—

Two days later Azzi dragged the suitcase down the stairs, the plastic wheels thudding violently against each step. It was a loud, jarring sound that echoed through the quiet house, announcing her descent like a battle cry.

Tim and Katie were waiting at the bottom of the steps, their arms crossed, looking at the bulging black bag with immediate suspicion.

"That looks heavy, Azzi," Katie said, her voice tight as she glanced at the suitcase. "Did you follow the list?"

"I packed what I need," Azzi replied smoothly, resting her hand on the handle and looking her mother dead in the eye.

Tim stepped forward, his face twisting into that familiar expression of deeply rooted concern. "You need to understand something before we put you in that car, Azzi. St. Mary’s is not like the public school here. The girls there are devout. They are respectable. They are raised to be good, normal catholic women. They are not going to like you if you bring your sick ways into that building. If you don't start acting normal, you will be completely alone."

"Your father is right," Katie chimed in, her voice dropping to a harsh, desperate whisper. "There is no one there who will participate in your... your sin with you. You won't find anyone willing to indulge your sickness."

Azzi let out a short, mocking breath, her lips curling into a sharp smile. "You know you can actually say the word lesbian, right? It won't kill you. Go on, Mom. Say it."

"You are not a lesbian, Azzi!" Tim snapped, his chest puffing out as his temper flared. "You are just a confused child trying to hurt your mother and me! You don't know what you are talking about!"

"I'm confused?" Azzi threw her head back and laughed. It was a loud, bright, genuinely amused sound that completely cut through the solemn weight her parents were trying to force onto the room. "You guys really are delusional. You’re sending me to a school in the middle of the woods packed entirely with naive, repressed teenage girls, and you think putting a bunch of crucifixes on the walls changes anything? I promise you, there are at least five lesbians already there."

"Stop this right now—" Katie started, her voice trembling.

"And if there aren't?" Azzi cut her off, her gaze hardening into something fiercely defiant as she leaned heavily on the handle of her suitcase. "I’ll just turn them gay for me."

"You are disgusting," Tim hissed as he took a step back, looking at his own daughter as if she were a monster. Katie buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with a wave of horrified tears.

Azzi didn't blink. She gripped the handle of her suitcase, tilting it back onto its wheels, and pushed past them toward the front door.

—

The four-hour drive to St. Mary’s was a masterclass in psychological warfare, and Azzi was determined to win it.

The interior of the family SUV was completely silent. Tim kept his eyes locked on the highway, while Katie stared blankly out the passenger window, a rosary wrapped tightly around her palm like a weapon.

Azzi, stretched out across the backseat. She had been humming under her breath for the first two hours, but as they hit the rural highway surrounded by dense woods, she decided it was time to break the peace.

"So," Azzi said, her voice loud, bright, and dripping with cheerfulness. "Am I going to have a roommate, or do I get my own private cell? Because if I have a roommate, this is going to be absolutely great for me. It’s practically built-in entertainment."

Tim’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek, but he didn't speak.

"Azzi, please," Katie whispered, her eyes closing tight as her thumb furiously rubbed the silver beads of her rosary. "Just be quiet. For once in your life, show some respect."

"I'm just trying to look on the bright side, Mom!" Azzi leaned forward, slotting herself right between the two front seats, her lips curving into a tight smile. "You guys were so depressed you had to send me away, but I’m actually starting to think this is going to be amazing for me. A school with only girls? Hundreds of sheltered catholic girls who have never been around a bad influence before? I just really hope my roommate is pretty. It’s going to be a long winter if I have to look at someone ugly while I’m doing my penance."

"Keep your mouth shut," Tim hissed, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror to glare at her. "You are going there to be disciplined, not to find a playground for your degeneracy."

"Stop it! Just stop it, Azzi!" Katie finally snapped, turning around in her seat, her eyes brimming with frustrated, furious tears. "Are you really this heartless? We are trying to save your life, and you’re treating it like a joke! Have you no shame at all?"

Azzi’s smile didn't fade, but it sharpened into something cold, jagged, and entirely devoid of warmth. She looked her mother dead in the eye, letting the heavy, defiant silence stretch between them for three long seconds.

"None at all, Mom," Azzi said softly, her voice smooth as silk. "You should know that by now."

Katie choked back a sob and whipped around, burying her face in her hands. Tim let out a low sigh, his foot slamming harder onto the gas pedal as if he could outrun his daughter's words.

Azzi didn't stop. She settled back into the leather seat, kicking her feet up onto the center console right between her parents' shoulders, deliberately pushing her luck until the air in the car practically crackled with their fury.

"I'm serious, I’ve been thinking about the logistics," Azzi continued, her voice light, airy, and conversational. "If I get to manifest my perfect roommate, she’s definitely going to be pale. Like, devastatingly pale, with light eyes that look like they've never seen the sun. The kind of girl who looks terrified the second you blink at her."

Tim’s knuckles turned a terrifying shade of white on the steering wheel. "Get your feet off the console, Azzi."

Azzi didn't budge. "And I hope she’s so quiet," Azzi went on, ignoring him completely, weaving the fantasy out loud just to watch them squirm. "A good catholic girl who spends all her time praying. But then, you know, we’ll be trapped in that tiny room together. It’s only a matter of time before she lets me get close to her."

"Azzi, shut your mouth!" Tim roared, his voice booming so loudly it shook the frame of the SUV. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, the horn letting out a sharp, violent blare as the car swerved slightly over the rumble strip. "I swear to God, if you say one more word about what you plan to do to the girls at that school, I will pull this car over and leave you on the side of the highway!"

Katie was shaking now, her fingers trembling so violently she could barely hold her rosary. "She’s doing it on purpose, Tim. She’s trying to provoke us. She wants us to turn around. Don't look at her. Just pray for her. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."

Katie’s voice cracked into a frantic, whispered chant, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to drown out her daughter's voice with the liturgy.

Azzi just watched them, her eyes glittering with a cold, triumphant satisfaction.

"I'm just saying," Azzi whispered, leaning forward one last time so her breath brushed against the back of her mother’s head, cutting straight through the panicked prayer. "I think she’s going to love me."

—

The SUV finally rolled through the gates of St. Mary’s Academy just as the sun began to set.

The campus looked less like a school and more like a medieval fortress. Jagged gray stone buildings loomed over a muddy, gravel courtyard, their narrow arched windows dark and unwelcoming. A massive black iron crucifix rose from the center of the lawn. The air out here didn't smell like summer; it smelled like damp earth, wet stone, and old wood. It was profoundly, deeply depressing.

Tim and Katie didn't say a word as they parked. They grabbed Azzi's suitcase from the trunk and marched her through the front doors of the intake building, the hollow thud of their footsteps echoing off the high stone ceilings.

The intake office was freezing and smelled strongly of bleach and beeswax. Sitting behind a stark wooden desk was a stern, elderly woman. She didn't smile. She didn't welcome them. She merely slid a contract across the desk for Tim and Katie to sign, confirming the transfer of custody.

Once the ink was dry, the woman turned her cold gaze onto Azzi. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she dropped a thick, leather-bound booklet onto the desk. The cover read: ST. MARY’S ACADEMY RULES, CODES, AND SPIRITUAL DISCIPLINE.

"This is your life now," the woman said, her voice sounding like dry paper rubbing together. "Memorize it. Live by it. Ignorance is not an excuse for a failing spirit. Take it up to your quarters. Room 535."

Azzi picked up the book, flipping through the pages as her parents flanked her, steering her toward the cold stone stairwell. Her chest tightened as the sheer rigidity of the place laid itself out in black and white:

DAILY SCHEDULE AND OBLIGATIONS:

05:30 AM: Morning Bell & Mandatory Awakening

06:00 AM – 07:00 AM: Holy Mass Monday-Friday. Attendance is mandatory. Missing more than two masses per semester will result in immediate solitary penance.

07:15 AM – 08:00 AM: Morning Refectory. Dining hours are strict. The doors lock at 07:20 AM. Late arrivals will fast until noon.

12:00 PM – 12:30 PM: lunch.

05:30 PM – 06:15 PM: Evening Refectory & Chapel hours.

08:00 PM: Evening Lockup. All students must be within their assigned dormitory buildings.

09:00 PM: Lights Out. Total silence is enforced. Passing or speaking between rooms after this hour is strictly forbidden.

Class Attendance: Students are permitted a maximum of one unexcused absence. Missing more then one day of classes without a medical dispensation from the school infirmary will result in suspension.

Azzi closed the booklet with a sharp snap, her pastel-pink nails contrasting sharply against the dark leather cover. The reality of the situation was finally settling in. There were no loopholes here. Every single minute of her day was accounted for, designed to grind her down until she looked just like the gray stone walls.

—

They reached the second floor, the linoleum hallway stretching out in a dim, fluorescent haze. Tim carried the suitcase, dropping it down with a dull thud outside the door marked 535. Tim pushed the door open, and they all walked into the room together.

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat, but it wasn't from dread.

Sitting on the far twin bed was a girl. Her side of the room was entirely sterile, stripped of any personality whatsoever; just stark white walls, a perfectly made bed, and a single, dark wooden crucifix hanging directly over her headboard. The girl herself was pale, her skin almost translucent under the dim light, and she was clutching a leather Bible in her lap. When the door opened, she looked up, revealing wide, glassy blue eyes that looked like they had never seen a day of trouble in their life.

Azzi’s lips slowly curled into a wide, triumphant smile. She was exactly what she had wanted.

Tim and Katie were too busy looking around the room with grim, relieved satisfaction to notice Azzi's expression. They had successfully passed the burden of their daughter's soul to this institution.

"Be good, Azzi," Katie whispered, her hand clutching her rosary one last time.

Before her mother could turn around to leave, Azzi leaned in close, her breath brushing against Katie’s ear. "Oh, I will," Azzi whispered, her voice dripping with wicked, joyful malice. "You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have with her."

Katie stiffened, her eyes widening in fresh horror, but Azzi was already moving. She completely ignored her father's stern glare as her parents turned on their heels and walked out, leaving the bedroom door wide open.

The moment they were gone, Azzi’s entire demeanor shifted. The sharp, jagged edges of her attitude melted away, replaced by a soft, sweet smile that practically radiated charm. She left her suitcase by the door and walked slowly across the room, her movements fluid and unhurried.

She stopped at the edge of the girl's bed, looking down at her with a warm, gentle expression.

"Hi," Azzi said, her voice dropping into a soft, melodic tone. "I'm Azzi. I guess I'm your new roommate."

The girl blinked up at her, her fingers tightening around the edges of her Bible. A soft pink flush immediately bloomed against her pale cheeks, and she shrank back into her pillows just a fraction, clearly overwhelmed.

"I-I'm Paige," she murmured, her voice small, shy, and incredibly nervous. She wouldn't quite hold Azzi's gaze, her eyes darting down to the floor.

"Paige," Azzi repeated the name softly, tasting it on her tongue. She tilted her head, letting a sweet, disarming smile grace her lips. "That’s a beautiful name. And your eyes are very pretty. I think we’re going to get along just fine."

Paige’s blush deepened, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths as she stared at the beautiful, confident girl standing over her bed.

Azzi walked back over to her side of the room, throwing herself carelessly onto the bare, unmade mattress. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked across the small gap separating their beds.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice smooth and casual. "Is this your first year here too?"

Paige nodded quickly, her fingers relaxing slightly against the leather cover of her bible. A genuine, bright smile broke across her face, clearing away some of her initial nervousness. "Yes! I'm super excited to be here. It actually took a lot of convincing for my parents to finally let me come. I've wanted to attend St. Mary’s for years to focus on my devotion and my studies." She tilted her head, her eyes full of innocent curiosity. "What about you? Did it take a lot of convincing for your parents, too?"

"Oh, absolutely," Azzi said, a sharp, bitter chuckle cutting through her soft exterior. "Except they were the ones convincing me. Well, less convincing, more forcing. I was dragged here kicking and screaming."

Paige’s smile faltered, her brow furrowing in deep confusion. "Forced? But... why would anyone be forced to come to a place like this? It's a sanctuary."

Azzi sat up completely, crossing her legs on the mattress. The sweet, innocent act vanished, replaced by a cold, blunt confidence that made the air in the small room instantly feel heavier.

"Alright let's just get this out of the way so we don't waste any time," Azzi said, leaning forward and locking her eyes onto the other girl. "I’m a lesbian. I don't believe in God, nor do I ever want to. I smoke, I drink, and I don't plan on following a single rule this school has set for me."

Paige just sat there, frozen. Her mouth parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat as her face went completely pale, all the color draining from her cheeks. She gripped her Bible so tightly her knuckles turned white, staring at Azzi in absolute shock, as if a demon had just materialized right on the other side of her bedroom.

"You’re a... a homosexual?" she whispered, her eyes locked onto Azzi as if she were looking at a ghost.

"Yes," Azzi said simply, a slow, dangerous smirk returning to her lips as she leaned back against her headboard, entirely unbothered by the label.

Paige swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She looked down at the Bible clutched in her lap, then back up at Azzi, her voice trembling. "Are you... are you aware of what that means for you? For your soul?"

Azzi let out a soft, mocking laugh, dismissing the eternal damnation talk with a careless wave of her hand. "I told you, Paige. I don't believe in your god. But what about you?" Azzi leaned forward again, her eyes narrowing playfully as she watched the nervous flush creep back onto Paige’s neck. "Are you a lesbian?"

"Absolutely not!" Paige practically squeaked, her face turning a vivid, furious crimson. She adjusted her grip on her Bible, pulling it tighter against her chest like a shield. "I am a servant of God. I have never... I would never even think about something like that."

"Right. Sure," Azzi purred, her voice dripping with amusement. She let the silence settle for a second, her gaze tracking the way Paige’s fingers were shaking. Then, her tone dropped into something a bit sharper, a bit more calculating. "Are you going to tell anyone what I just told you?"

Paige froze, her eyes darting toward the door and then back to Azzi’s cool, confident expression. She looked genuinely torn. She chewed on her bottom lip, her knuckles white against the leather book.

"No," Paige whispered softly, looking down at her lap. "I won't tell."

"Good girl," Azzi said softly, her smile widening into something victorious. She slid off her bed and walked over to the suitcase by the door, completely aware that Paige's terrified, fascinated eyes were following her every move. She unzipped it with a loud, aggressive rip that made Paige flinch on the other side of the room.

"Well, if we're going to be living together, I might as well get comfortable," Azzi said.

She reached into the side pockets first. Her hands bypassed the wool socks where her extra iPhone was safely buried, she wasn't stupid; that stayed completely out of sight. Instead, she reached into the main compartment and pulled out the packs of Marlboro Lights, stacking them neatly on top of her desk. Next came the lighter and weed pen, which she dropped onto the wood with a loud clack.

Paige’s jaw dropped. She stared at the cigarettes as if they were explosives.

Next, Azzi unzipped her large, black makeup bag. She began lining her desk with eyeshadow palettes, tubes of lip gloss, hair serums, and her vanilla perfume. She sprayed a single mist of the fragrance into the air. The sweet scent instantly warred with the sterile bleach smell of the room.

"You... you can't have those," Paige stammered, her voice shaking as she watched the forbidden items multiply. "The rulebook explicitly says—"

"I don't care what the booklet says, Paige," Azzi interrupted smoothly.

She reached back into the suitcase and hauled out the lesbian romance novels, deliberately placing them on the shelf with the covers facing out. The graphic, colorful art practically screamed against the bare white walls. Beside them, she stacked her notebooks and a jar of black ink pens.

But the final blow came when Azzi pulled out her linens and wardrobe. She shook out the bright pink cotton sheets, letting them billow through the air before tossing them onto her mattress. Then came the clothes. She pulled out sheer nightgowns, blush pink silk slips, revealing crop tops, and delicate, lacy lingerie, hanging them up in her open wardrobe for the whole room to see.

It was an absolute shrine of contraband.

Paige couldn't take it anymore. The sheer volume of defiance was overwhelming. She practically scrambled backward on her bed, pressing herself flat into the far corner of the walls right beneath her dark wooden crucifix. She pulled her knees up to her chest, clutching her Bible like a shield, and squeezed her eyes shut. Her lips began moving in a frantic, silent blur as she started praying for dear life, desperate to tune out what was unfolding just a few feet away.

Azzi watched the frantic movement of Paige’s lips, the way her fingers trembled against the leather of her Bible, and the absolute purity of the terror radiating from her corner of the room. It should have been purely amusing. It should have just been ammunition for her ongoing war against her parents.

But as Azzi stood there the mocking smirk slowly faded from her face.

She looked closer at the girl trapped in the corner. Putting all the jokes aside, Paige was, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl Azzi had ever seen. Her skin had a flawless, porcelain look that seemed almost glowing under the harsh fluorescent light, and her eyes were so soft and glassy. Her blonde hair was long and pin straight. She was stunning.

Azzi felt that familiar, sharp itch in her chest; the sudden need to put what she was seeing into words.

Silently, she grabbed one of her new notebooks and a black ink pen, and crawled back onto her bed. She leaned her back against the wall, looked over at Paige one more time, and began to write.

She kept her words straightforward, letting the ink flow naturally as she focused entirely on the girl across the room:

There’s something completely quiet about the way she holds herself, like she’s trying to occupy as little space in this room as humanly possible. She’s pressed into the corner, watching me with these wide, incredibly soft eyes, and it's pretty obvious she’s scared of me. But looking at her properly, she’s really beautiful. Her hair is just this long, straight fall of gold, and her skin looks so pale and clear under these awful lights. I think I'm just curious, I guess. I can’t take my eyes off of her.

—

The clock on the wall crept toward 08:30 PM, the silence of the campus curfew settling over the old stone building.

Azzi stood by her closet, intentionally taking her time. She reached past the plain, oversized sweaters and pulled out a black silk nightgown. It was short, suspended by thin spaghetti straps, with a low neckline trimmed in delicate lace. It felt cool and luxurious against her skin, the exact opposite of the coarse wool and heavy cotton this school demanded.

Paige, who had finally stopped praying, was sitting on the edge of her own bed. She was dressed in an incredibly modest, oversized white cotton t-shirt and black pajama pants. When she looked up and saw Azzi, she froze.

Azzi rested one hand on her hip, the black silk draping elegantly against her figure. A smirk crossed her lips. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

Paige forced her gaze upward, her expression hardening as she tried to summon every ounce of authority she had. "I think it's completely inappropriate," she said sternly.

But her body betrayed her. A deep, burning crimson rushed up Paige's pale neck, staining her cheeks a vivid pink. She couldn't tear her eyes away from how Azzi looked in the dim light.

Taking a shaky breath, Paige clutched her Bible tighter and looked up at Azzi, trying to regain her footing. "Look, I’ve tried to be accepting toward you tonight, Azzi. I didn't say anything about all the stuff you snuck in, and I didn't go to administration. Now you need to be accepting toward me. I want you to sit down and pray with me before bed."

Azzi’s smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with amusement at the challenge. She walked over smoothly, her bare feet making no sound on the floor, and sat on the very edge of Paige's bed.

"Okay," Azzi murmured, leaning in just close enough for Paige to catch another breath of her vanilla perfume. "I’ll pray with you. As long as we get to hold hands."

Paige blinked, her eyes entirely blank for a moment. She completely missed the flirtatious undertone in Azzi's voice, her mind translating the request through the only lens she knew.

"Oh," Paige said, a look of soft relief washing over her face. "Yes, of course. That is how we pray sometimes. To connect our intentions."

Azzi chuckled softly under her breath, delighted by how beautifully naive her roommate truly was. She slid further onto Paige’s mattress, pulling her legs up and settling into the middle of the bed. The contrast between them was striking.

Paige set her Bible down on her lap and extended her hands. Her palms were cool and slightly trembling. Azzi slid her own hands forward, her long pink nails resting against Paige’s pale skin, her fingers interlocking with the other girl's. Paige took a deep, steadying breath, closed her eyes, and bowed her head.

"Dear Heavenly Father," Paige began, her voice small but steady in the quiet room. "Thank you for bringing us safely to St. Mary’s. We ask that you watch over this room tonight, and keep us safe and protected while we sleep. Please bless this school year, and let it be a time of deep faith, academic excellence, and spiritual growth for both of us."

Azzi watched her through half-lidded eyes, a smug, relaxed smile playing on her lips. The feeling of Paige’s soft hands in hers was entirely worth listening to a little religious psychosis.

But then, Paige’s grip on Azzi’s hands tightened.

"And Lord, I want to lift up my roommate, Azzi, to you tonight," Paige continued, her tone shifting into something deeply earnest, filled with a suffocating, patronizing pity. "I pray that you touch her heart. Pour your grace upon her, and rid her soul of the sins and temptations she is harboring. Heal her confusion, Lord. Deliver her from the unnatural desires and the wickedness of the flesh that she clings to, and guide her back to the path of purity and righteousness—"

The relaxed smile instantly vanished from Azzi’s face. A hot, sharp jolt of anger surged through her veins.

Azzi ripped her hands out of Paige’s grip so forcefully that Paige gasped, her eyes flying open in shock.

"Okay, we're done," Azzi said, her voice dropping into a cold, flat register. The sweetness was completely gone, replaced frustration. She slid off the mattress, standing up and pulling the black silk gown down slightly.

"Azzi?" Paige stammered, shrinking back against her pillows. She looked entirely bewildered, her eyes darting around as she tried to understand the sudden shift. "What's wrong? What did I do? I was just praying for you."

Azzi let out a bitter, humorless laugh, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"I was praying for God to fix the confusion," Paige whispered, her voice earnest and genuinely confused. "To help you stop..."

"I'm not confused, Paige." Azzi cut her off, her eyes narrowing as she looked down at her. "I don't want to stop being gay. I like who I am, and I love girls. I don't need you or your God trying to cure me."

Paige sat frozen, she looked at Azzi, completely out of her depth, unable to comprehend someone openly choosing and defending something she had been taught to fear.

Without another word, Azzi marched back to her side of the room and climbed into bed. She pulled the blankets up to her shoulders and turned her back completely to Paige, leaving the bedroom suffocating in silence.

The minutes stretched out, long and suffocating. The only sound in the dark room was the distant wind rattling the old windowpanes. Azzi lay perfectly still beneath her sheets, her jaw clenched, waiting for the anger in her chest to cool down.

On the other side of the room, Paige shifted restlessly. The mattress creaked softly, followed by the sound of a quiet, hesitant sigh.

"Azzi?" Paige’s voice was barely a breath, a fragile whisper cutting through the darkness.

Azzi didn't move. She didn't answer, keeping her back turned to keep the wall up.

"Azzi, please... I know you're awake," Paige pleaded softly. She paused, swallowing hard before the words came rushing out in a quiet, apologetic blur. "I'm sorry. I really am."

Azzi let out a slow, silent breath, her shoulders dropping just a fraction. She still didn't turn around, but she listened.

"I didn't mean to make you mad," Paige whispered, her voice trembling slightly in the dark. "It’s just... you’re the very first homosexual I’ve ever met. Where I grow up, no one talks about it. Or if they do, it’s only to say how wrong it is. I’ve never actually had to think about it in real life."

She stopped, the silence hanging between them for a few beats before Paige took a brave, shaky breath and admitted the truth.

"I'm scared to share a room with you. I don't know how to act, and I'm terrified of saying the wrong thing or upsetting God." Paige cleared her throat, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of their dark room. "But... you're my roommate. And I don't want you to hate it here. I will try to be more empathetic. I promise."

Azzi lay in the dark, her eyes wide as she stared at the stark white wall in front of her. The honesty of Paige's confession caught her completely off guard. She had expected judgment, or anger, or more frantic prayers. She hadn't expected her to actually open up and apologize.

Slowly, deliberately, Azzi rolled over onto her back. She looked across the dim gap separating their beds, seeing the faint silhouette of Paige staring up at the ceiling.

"You don't have to be scared of me, Paige," Azzi said, her voice dropping its edge, returning to a quiet, genuine tone. "I'm not going to bite."

Paige turned her head, her eyes catching the faint moonlight filtering through the window. "Okay," she whispered, a small, relieved breath escaping her lips.

"And for the record," Azzi added, a tiny, familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth in the dark, "you don't have to call it homosexual. You can just say gay. It’s a lot less syllable-heavy."

A quiet, breathless laugh came from Paige’s side of the room, the first real sound of comfort all night. "Okay. Gay."

"Goodnight, Paige."

"Goodnight, Azzi."

The silence returned, but the tension was gone, replaced by a quiet, fragile truce that neither girl quite knew how to navigate yet.

—

At exactly 05:30 AM, a loud, metallic clanging shattered the quiet darkness of their room. The morning bell rang out down the hallway like a siren, ruthless and unyielding, signaling the mandatory wake up.

Paige practically shot out of bed, her strict upbringing conditioning her to move the second she was called. She quickly threw off her white cotton blankets, slid her feet into her slippers, and clicked on her small desk lamp.

The light flooded the room, revealing Azzi completely buried beneath her pink sheets. She hadn't even flinched. The loud bell might as well have been a lullaby for all the effect it had on her.

Paige nervously glanced at the clock, her anxiety spiking as she looked over at Azzi's desk and closet.

Panicking, Paige rushed over to Azzi's bed. She reached down and began frantically tapping Azzi’s shoulder through the thick comforter, shaking her gently.

"Azzi! Azzi, wake up, please!" Paige pleaded, her voice a sharp, terrified whisper. "You have to get up right now!"

From beneath the pink mountain of fabric, a low, irritated groan echoed out. Azzi pulled the blanket tighter over her head, burying her face into her pillow. "Go away," her muffled voice muttered. "Tell them I died."

"Azzi, I'm serious!" Paige said, tapping her shoulder even harder, her wide, light eyes darting toward the bedroom door. "If you don't get up, the nuns are going to come up here to check the rooms. If they walk in and see all of your stuff you’ll be expelled on your very first day! They will throw you out!"

That actually got through to her.

Azzi violently whipped the blanket down from her face, her hair a chaotic web around her shoulders. She blinked fiercely against the lamp light, glaring up at Paige with pure exhaustion, but the realization of what Paige was saying finally clicked. Getting expelled on day one meant being sent right back to her parents in total defeat, and she refused to give them that satisfaction.

"Ugh, you have got to be kidding me," Azzi rasped, her voice thick with sleep as she rubbed her eyes. She let out a long, dramatic sigh and threw the blankets off her legs, reluctantly swinging her feet onto the cold floor.

"Fine. I'm up," Azzi muttered, shivering slightly in her black silk nightgown. She looked up at Paige, who was letting out a massive breath of relief. "But if I fall asleep during mass I’m blaming you."

The room was a whirlwind of motion for the next twenty minutes. Azzi grumbled under her breath the entire time, shoving her contraband out of sight into her closet before reluctantly pulling out the heavy, navy-blue pleated skirt and stiff white button-down shirt that made up the St. Mary's uniform.

Paige was already dressed, her uniform meticulously pressed and her collar buttoned tightly all the way to the top. She was smoothing down her skirt when Azzi finished adjusting her own. Instead of fastening her collar completely, Azzi had left the top two buttons undone.

Azzi leaned against her desk, crossing her arms as she looked Paige up and down. The exhaustion was still there, but her playful, teasing spark had officially returned.

"Well, look at you," Azzi murmured, letting her eyes trail slowly over her roommate. "For a school that tries so hard to make everyone look depressing, you look really good Paige."

Paige froze, a familiar pink flush instantly blooming across her cheeks. She quickly looked away, busying herself with straightening the notebooks on her desk. "It's a standard-issue uniform, Azzi. There's nothing special about it," she murmured, her voice shy and flustered as she tried to handle the blatant flirtation.

Azzi just chuckled softly, grabbing her bag. "Whatever you say."

By 07:15 AM, the mandatory Morning Mass was finally over, and the girls found themselves sitting across from each other in the dining room. It was filled with the low hum of hundreds of girls chatting over wooden tables, the scent of oatmeal, toast, and black coffee hanging heavy in the air.

"So," Azzi said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. "Since you already know all my deep, dark, sinful secrets, what about you? What do you actually do for fun when you aren't praying?"

Paige looked up from her bowl of oatmeal, a little surprised by the casual question. She swallowed nervously, her fingers tracing the edge of her spoon. "Oh. Um, I don't really do anything crazy. But... I like to draw. I mostly draw people, actually. Portraits, faces, hands." She paused, leaning in a little closer across the table and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I actually snuck a bunch of sketchbooks into my suitcase. My parents wanted me entirely focused on my spiritual studies, so I had to hide them under my clothes."

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a slow, delighted grin spreading across her face. She leaned forward on her elbows, her eyes gleaming. "Wow, Paige. Sneaking things past your parents? Look at you. You're a naughty girl."

Paige’s eyes went wide, and her face turned a vivid, furious shade of crimson. She looked around the crowded room frantically, terrified someone might have overheard. "Don't—don't say that!" she squeaked, hiding her face behind her hands for a second to cover her burning cheeks. "I am not a naughty girl. It’s just art supplies."

Azzi let out a loud, genuine laugh, thoroughly charmed by how incredibly easy it was to fluster her roommate. She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes locked onto Paige's blushing face, her mind already racing with possibilities.

"Sure it is," Azzi laughed softly, leaning back in her seat with a victorious smirk. "We are going to have so much fun together."

Azzi leaned her chin in her hand, her eyes locked onto Paige with a look of amusement. She wasn't about to let the topic go that easily.

"Alright, come on," Azzi teased, her voice dropping into that smooth, low purr again. "If you’re hiding sketchbooks, you've got a wild side. What other naughty things have you done, Paige?"

Paige sat up perfectly straight. She glared at Azzi, though the effect was entirely ruined by the deep blush still painting her cheeks. "You need to stop saying that word, Azzi! I am a good student and a good daughter. I don't do naughty things."

"Everyone has done something," Azzi pushed, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Give me your absolute worst."

Paige chewed her bottom lip, looking genuinely stressed as she searched her memory for her deepest, darkest transgression. Finally, she leaned across the table, her voice dropping into a solemn, guilty whisper. "Well... last summer, my mother told me not to eat any of the peach cobbler she baked for the church bake sale. But it smelled so good, and I... I snuck into the kitchen after everyone went to sleep and ate three whole spoonfuls right out of the dish. I felt so guilty I confessed it to Father Thomas that Saturday."

Azzi stared at her for a blank, stunned second before she completely burst out laughing. It was a loud, unsuppressed laugh that made a few girls at the next table turn their heads.

"Three spoonfuls of cobbler?" Azzi choked out, wiping a tear of amusement from her eye. "Oh, the horror. You’re practically a criminal Paige."

Paige huffed, crossing her arms defensively, her pride a little wounded. "It was an act of gluttony and disobedience! It is bad." She narrowed her eyes, looking at Azzi’s mocking smile, and decided to turn the tables. "Fine, since you think my worst is so funny... what is the absolute worst thing you have ever done?"

Azzi didn't hesitate for a single second. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with delight as she looked directly into Paige’s innocent face.

"I had sex with another woman," Azzi said casually, her tone as breezy as if she were commenting on the weather.

Paige, who had just taken a bite of her toast to soothe her nerves, completely froze. Her eyes went wide as saucers, and she instantly began hacking and coughing, almost choking on her food. She grabbed her glass of water with a shaking hand, desperately trying to swallow as her face turned from pink to a panicked, breathless shade of red.

Paige finally managed to swallow the water, her chest heaving as she set the glass down with a loud clunk against the wooden table. She glanced around the crowded room in absolute terror.

"You... you can't be telling the truth," Paige whispered, leaning so far across the table her collar nearly dipped into her oatmeal. "You’re just saying that to shock me. You have to be."

"I wish I was," Azzi said, a sharp, bitter edge momentarily cutting through her amusement as she leaned back and crossed her arms. "Getting caught in bed with a girl by my mother is literally the entire reason I was dragged to this place. Why else do you think my parents looked so thrilled to dump me here last night?"

Paige stared at her, the reality of Azzi’s words sinking in. But as her mind tried to process what Azzi had confessed, a look of confusion washed over her face. She lowered her voice even more, her eyes darting sideways.

"But... women can't even do that with each other," Paige murmured, her voice laced with absolute certainty. "That’s physically impossible. Marriage is meant for a man and a woman because—"

"Oh, trust me, they can," Azzi interrupted smoothly, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smirk as she watched Paige’s brain completely short-circuit. She leaned in, her eyes locking onto Paige’s glassy, wide-eyed gaze. "And it is amazing. Better than anything you’ll ever experience."

Paige’s entire face flared into a brilliant, sunburned crimson. She practically threw herself back into her seat, clutching the front of her uniform shirt as if she could shield her ears from the corruption.

"Stop! Stop talking!" Paige gasped, her voice trembling with a mix of intense embarrassment and deep spiritual panic. "You need to go to Confession right now, Azzi. You need to confess those awful sins to the priest before you get us both struck down!"

Azzi just chuckled, completely unbothered, taking a slow sip of her black coffee.

"I mean it," Paige whispered frantically, her hands shaking as she picked up her napkin. "You need to ask for cleansing. Just like... just like how I am going to have to go to the chapel and ask for forgiveness right after breakfast just for hearing you say that!"

"Have fun with that," Azzi whispered, her eyes dancing with delight. "Make sure to tell the priest about the three spoonfuls of cobbler while you're at it. Really pack out your schedule."

—

The oak doors of the chapel clicked shut behind Paige. The scent of beeswax hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the lively chatter of the breakfast hall she had just fled. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs, Azzi’s words echoing in her mind like a siren.

“And it is amazing.”

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks flaring red all over again. She practically crept down the side aisle toward the dark wooden confessional box, her knees trembling beneath her navy pleated skirt. This was her very first confession at St. Mary’s, and the unfamiliarity of the massive chapel only made her chest tighten further. She desperately needed to wash those words out of her soul.

She slipped inside the cramped, velvet-curtained booth, kneeling on the hard wooden step. After a long, agonizing moment, the small wooden screen slid open, revealing the dim, unrecognizable silhouette of a priest through the tightly woven screen.

Paige took a shaky breath, crossing herself. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession."

"Go ahead, my child," the priest’s voice replied, deep, unfamiliar, and entirely formal.

"I... I have harbored impure thoughts this morning," Paige stammered, her fingers tightly interlocking, squeezing so hard her knuckles turned white. "And I was complicit in hearing... a deeply grievous sin spoken aloud. I didn't stop it in time."

"What did you hear, child?"

Paige swallowed hard. The rules of St. Mary’s were strict, and she didn't know this priest, she had no idea if he was the type to immediately report everything to the administration. If she named her roommate, Azzi would be hauled into the office, her room would be ransacked, her contraband found, and she would be expelled. Azzi was reckless, defiant, and completely inappropriate but Paige remembered the honesty of their talk in the dark last night. She couldn't destroy her.

"A student," Paige whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "Another girl. She... she admitted to me that she has committed acts of... of the flesh. With another woman."

The words felt massive and heavy on her tongue.

Through the screen, the priest let out a sharp, stern intake of breath. "This is a grave matter. The corruption of the flesh is a plague upon this world. Who is this girl? You must tell me so we can guide her soul back to the light before she infects the rest of the students."

Paige’s heart leapt into her throat. She gripped the wooden ledge of the confessional. "I... I can't say, Father."

"Young lady," the priest warned, his tone instantly hardening. "Protecting a sinner in her wickedness is a sin in itself. You are enabling her destruction. Give me her name."

"No, Father, please," Paige pleaded, tears of anxiety pricking the corners of her eyes, though her voice carried a sudden, stubborn resolve. "I want to pray for her myself. I will try to help her. I just... I cannot give you her name. I came to cleanse my own ears and my own heart for listening to it. Please."

The silence in the booth stretched out, thick and tense. The priest let out a long, disappointed breath, realizing the young, terrified girl wouldn't break.

"Very well," the priest said coldly. "For your penance, and for your stubbornness in shielding a sinner, you will recite five Rosaries before the altar. Then five Hail Marys before bed. And you will pray fervently that the Lord strips away your own blindness."

"Thank you, Father," Paige whispered.