Free Redeeming Rhys by Mary E. Palmerin Page A

in her room at the house for unwed mothers, her simple twin bed adorned with nothing but a grey wool comforter that made her itch and sweat at night, and a crucifix above her bed. A small table was next to her single bedstead with a rosary and bible. The aged floors creaked every time someone was walking down the hallway. She knew when it was Sister Magdalene, her strides were short and heavy. She was fifty-something, plump, and her features were hard, the wrinkles of her skin proof of her frowns and displeasure of the immoralities that overtook the world. She was a servant of God, teaching the offenders of the world civility. Wren had been shipped there after that fateful night since she was given a second chance, though she wasn’t ever sure how lucky she was. The tiny flutters in her belly made her remember just how bad she was.
    “Yes, Sister Magdalene,” Wren returned, sitting on her knees, making sure to assume the praying position when she heard the steps creak down the hallway down to her room.
    “You will see the evidence of evil and understand the holy ways of the Lord. Get up.”
    There was nothing comforting about her tone. It was corroboration that Wren was a bad girl. Perhaps she did belong with Rhys…
    Wren stood and bowed her head, terrified to meet the eyes of Sister Magdalene. She knew she was a woman that showed no mercy. Wren should have felt safer than where she was before, but she didn’t. She felt as if she had merely graced the surface of dysfunction. At least Rhys wanted to convince her that he was good. He showed her that he cared, even though she didn’t want it. Looking back, that was better than her current state.
    Wren followed Sister Magdalene down the hall and into a dark room with a large white screen and projector. There was one desk in the corner. Sister Magdalene hobbled over to the center of the room to the cart that housed the projector and grabbed a wooden yard stick, flipping her coif as she turned to look at Wren.
    “Sit.”
    Wren obeyed.
    “Place your hands on the top of the desk,” she demanded.
    Wren’s nervousness peaked, the buzzing of the projector making her gut churn with vivid reminders of what brought her there. She suddenly wished that Rhys would have taken that sharp knife to her throat, slicing it and putting her out of her misery, but he let her live. He had to. Through the peril he had endured, the fuckery of his mind, he set it to the side and let her exist in a world made of iniquities and corruption.
    Wren’s nightmares were about to get worse.
    Sister Magdalene reached Wren and brought the yard stick above her head, smacking her fingers with enough strength to make a grown man cry out. Wren wanted to yelp out in pain, the agony from the hard blow radiated through her fingertips to her elbows, but she remained silent, knowing that it was all part of her punishment for her escape last week.
    “You know why I brought you here, right? Your sins may not be forgivable. You are an abomination for humanity, little girl,” Sister Magdalene seethed, swatting her hands again.
    Wren couldn’t help it as the tears escaped her eyes, staining her with evil and disgrace.
    “I will show you evidence of other’s sins and mistakes, girl. You will watch and memorize these images. Realize that you let the devil invade your mind and sway your already bad choices.”
    Wren wanted to tell her that she had no choice but to give her innocence to Rhys, but her words would be insignificant to a lady that was sworn in to be an obedient servant to God.
    Sister Magdalene flipped another switch, grotesque pictures filling the screen. Wren’s bodily functions overtook her as vomit seeped through her mouth, falling onto her hands that were still planted on the top of the desk, marked with red thrashes.
    “You want to be a murderer, Wren? You want to go to hell?” Sister Magdalene’s words were like venom to her confused heart.
    Wren tried to put her head down, the puke threatening