Scelus - Writing (Turned pt 2)
Sabine woke surrounded by warmth. Her body was sore and heavy, and her head throbbed the same way it did when she would sneak away with too much of the communion wine. She strained to lift herself from the bed and glanced around the room.
“A dream then,” she asked the empty room. When she turned her head, however, she winced in pain. Her fingers flew to her neck and her heart tightened when they grazed over two small holes. She looked down at herself, expecting the carnage she felt the night before, but her white chemise was pristine. In her confusion, she did not hear the footsteps in the hall or the opening of the door.
“My sweet Sabine!” Sabine jolted straight. Standing in the doorway to the room was Sister Esther Kumari, her soft face filled with relief. She quickly closed the door behind her and rushed to Sabine’s side. Her delicate fingers ghosted across Sabine’s cheeks and slid under her chin, lifting her head. Esther’s warm skin was a balm to Sabine, and she leaned her head into the woman’s palm.
“Sweet girl, please, tell me,” Esther pleaded as she sat on the edge of the bed, “He hurt you, yes?” Her eyes bore deep into Sabine’s, begging for the truth. Sabine lowered her head to glance down her body, mind painting her chemise deep red. She gripped the hem and slowly pulled it up her legs, but her skin truly was clean. Esther watched her with a tight knot in her stomach; the image of Sabine completely soaked in her own blood and unresponsive flashed over her eyes with every blink.
“I was so worried,” Esther spoke, her voice quiet and wavering. Her hands joined Sabine’s at her hem and pulled it back down her legs. The hair on her arm prickled at just how cold the top of Sabine’s thigh was; Sabine was never a walking furnace but Esther was intimately aware of the comforting warmth of her lover’s lap. The chill she felt was startling. Esther pulled the thin blanket over Sabine’s legs while pushing her back down into the bed.
Sabine tried to resist but her fatigue was overwhelming. She fell to the sheets with little grace as Esther gathered the blanket around Sabine’s shoulders and under her chin. Long fingers brushed Sabine’s dark hair from her face, followed by Esther’s soft lips. She rested her forehead against Sabine’s, ignoring the uncomfortable shiver that ran down her arms.
“The Abbess will be by after Lauds,” Esther said quietly, “I explained to her as much as I could last night after I found you but she may still have questions.” Esther sat up slowly, hands still holding the blankets around Sabine. “Please be honest with her. If he did something cruel-”
“He bit me,” Sabine blurted, then grimaced at how dry her throat was. With a harsh swallow, she continued, “He bit me and ripped at my clothes. It hurt, but I do not think he did more than that.” Esther held her gaze for a long moment, as if she did not believe Sabine and that a stern look would pry the truth out of her. But Sabine’s large eyes told her nothing more, and so Esther nodded and rose from the bed. She kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to Sabine’s lips.
“Try to listen for her footsteps,” Esther said as she walked to the door. “I was able to get you out of dressing but, to her Holiness, nothing can get you out of your Hours.” Sabine smiled and nodded, pulling her hands from under the blanket and clasping her palms together.
“Our Father?” Sabine asked.
“Who art in Heaven,” Esther drawled as she walked from the room, glancing back once more at Sabine as the door clicked shut.
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Sabine’s stomach churned as she looked down into her bowl, then churned again at the thought of eating the food within it. Simple stout broth with simmered vegetables and thick crusted bread; a meal Sabine enjoyed on most days. But today the dim room spun, flickering candles blooming in her eyes like bursting stars, and her nose was overwhelmed by the thick smells in the room.
Her Sisters chatted quietly with each other as they ate their meals, but Sabine could hear each of their conversations as if she were sat between them, even those whispering at the opposite end of the long hall. Her hand trembled as it pushed a spoon through her soup, trying to her best to focus on her supper. She lifted a small scoop to her lips and her stomach fiercely flipped again. Dropping her spoon, Sabine looked to the women around her.
“I am not feeling well,” she whispered, “would one of you like the rest of my food?” She glanced around at her Sisters with the best smile she could manage, not wanting to waste the meal but knowing she would not be able to finish it. A small woman next to her perked up.
“Are you sure? It looks like you’ve barely touched it, and Sister Esther said you haven’t eaten a full meal in days.”
“I-,” Sabine began, then grunted as a biting pain ripped through her stomach. She grimaced, lurching forward, looking to those around her like she may vomit. Her Sisters murmured sympathetically, the two next to her rubbing her back to soothe her. The smaller woman to Sabine’s right rose from the bench to fetch the Fratress.
The Fratress, Sister Caroline, was an older woman with deep wrinkles around her kind eyes. She approached Sabine, placing a hand on her back and leaning over her shoulder so that she could speak quietly to her.
“If you feel unwell, please take your bowl to one of the lay-women and go with Sister Anne to the infirmary. We do not want anyone else getting sick, do we?” Sabine nodded, head still down and eyes clenched shut. She stood on shaking legs and Sister Anne gently grabbed the teetering bowl from her hands. They walked from the hall, Sabine clutching Anne’s arm for support.
The infirmary was its own separate building, not far from the main dormitory but far enough to mitigate any spreading of disease or infection. The walk was short and covered by a long stone archway. The sun was low and heavy in the sky as they walked, but to Sabine’s eyes it was as bright as midday and she kept them closed until they entered the small building.
She wanted to be brave, but being back where she was attacked only a few days ago lit her already fried nerves on fire. She felt eyes on her, knowing in her mind that it was only Sister Anne and the Infirmaress walking her to a curtained-off bed, but feeling in her heart like the monster that nearly ripped her throat out was waiting behind the hanging sheet to finish her off.
Sabine whined high and flinched as the curtain was pulled open, but no attacker leapt at her. Her body was so rigid in fear and pain that Anne and the Infirmaress had to carry her the rest of the way to the small bed. They undressed her down to her thin chemise, which clung to her cold skin with sweat, and laid her under the linen sheet.
“She must have caught the sickness Mr. Smith had,” the Infirmaress said quietly to Sister Anne, her lips and brows tight with worry. Anne frowned.
“Did he die from it?”
“We are not sure,” said the Infirmaress as she lit a small candle on the table next to Sabine.
“Not sure? How can we not be sure?”
“He disappeared the night Sister Sabine was meant to watch him.” Anne gasped, hand covering her mouth.
“Was he the one who-,” Anne stopped herself. The Infirmaress looked over to her questioningly, to which Anne lowered her hand from her mouth slightly, as if she knew she should not be saying what she was.
“Some of the sisters say that Sabine was,” Anne paused, searching for a more comfortable word than the one she wanted to say, “attacked by one of the sick she was meant to watch.” The Infirmaress whipped her head to face Anne, who continued to frown behind her hand.
“Why was I not told about this,” she demanded, to which Anne shook her head.
“I only know what has been rumored, but she was alone so only she knows, and she has not told any of us anything.” Anne glanced down at Sabine, her dark hair sticking to her skin like ink running down her face. She was swallowing hard, as if she were trying to clear a lump from her throat. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, dark and reflecting the flickering candlelight like a polished mirror.
Sabine pulled her hands from under the blanket and rested them over her eyes, whispering to herself softly. Anne leaned in to hear her, confused. She was repeating that she was so hungry, but if she was so hungry, Anne wondered, why did she not have a bite of her dinner?