LESSONS IN PURITY

I woke the next morning with swollen eyes and a heavy chest. Sleep had been no refuge—my dreams were filled with shadows, unseen hands, and whispers I couldn’t escape. Words like temptress and sinner clung to me long after I opened my eyes.

The house was alive with noise when I stumbled downstairs. The smell of bacon and pancakes drifted through the air, but the laughter around the table stopped as soon as I appeared.

“Well, look who decided to crawl out of her room,” Isabel drawled, twirling her fork. “I thought maybe she stayed upstairs all night practicing how to look innocent.”

Clarissa smirked into her glass of juice. “Not innocent. She’s probably practicing her pout for the pastor. He always notices her pathetic little act.”

Their words hit harder in the bright light of morning. I froze at the edge of the table, clutching the back of a chair.

Mother didn’t scold them. She never did. Instead, she spread butter on her toast with meticulous calm and said, “Eat. We’re going to church again. Pastor Gabriel asked to see you after morning service.”

My stomach tightened. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” She snapped the words like they tasted bitter. “Apparently you need guidance.”

Clarissa’s eyebrows lifted, her grin sly. “Guidance. That’s one way to put it.”

Isabel leaned forward, her voice pitched just loud enough for me to hear. “Bet she’ll come out of his office red-faced. Maybe crying. Or maybe glowing.”

Mother slammed her knife down against her plate, making us all flinch. “Enough. All of you.” Her glare cut to me. “Do not embarrass me today. You will sit. You will listen. And you will behave.”

“Yes, Mother.” My voice was barely a whisper.

---

The church was quieter during morning prayers, only a few scattered parishioners bent over their rosaries. The air smelled of wax and incense, heavy enough to choke. I followed Mother down the aisle, but my eyes betrayed me, flicking toward the pulpit.

Pastor Gabriel stood near the altar, his head bowed in conversation with Nathaniel—my stepfather. Both men looked up as I entered, and my breath caught.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. Gabriel’s gaze, however, lingered. Too long. Too direct. My cheeks burned under the weight of it.

Mother’s hiss cut through my chest like a knife. “Go. He’s waiting.” She gave me a shove forward.

My footsteps felt like they echoed in the cavernous room as I crossed the aisle toward Gabriel’s office.

---

The room was dim, lit only by the slant of colored light through the stained-glass window and a desk lamp casting shadows. Gabriel gestured to the chair opposite him.

“Sit.”

I lowered myself into it, my hands twisting in my lap. His eyes swept over me slowly, as though he could read the thoughts I tried to bury.

“You know why you’re here, don’t you?” he asked.

“Because I’ve… been bad?” The words trembled out of me.

His lips curved—not a smile, not really. “Because temptation clings to you. I see it in your eyes. In the way men look at you.”

Heat rushed up my neck. “That’s not my fault.”

“No,” he agreed softly. “It’s not. But it is your responsibility. You must resist being a stumbling block.”

“I try,” I whispered. “I really do.”

His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Then you must try harder. Because if you don’t, your soul—and perhaps the souls of others—will be lost.”

The words sank into me like stones. My throat ached as I nodded. “Yes, Pastor.”

---

When I stepped out of his office, my stepsisters were waiting, leaning against the corridor wall with identical smirks.

“So,” Clarissa sang. “Did he scold you until you cried? Or did you enjoy every second of it?”

Isabel’s laughter rang out like a bell. “Look at her face. She probably begged him to forgive her. Pathetic.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, pushing past them.

They followed at my heels. “Oh, don’t be shy,” Clarissa taunted. “Everyone knows he gives you special attention. You love it. Admit it.”

Before I could reply, a voice cut through the hallway like a whip.

“That’s enough.”

Nathaniel.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze hard as steel. My stepsisters froze, paling.

“Go to the car,” he ordered.

Clarissa opened her mouth, then thought better of it. She dragged Isabel along with her, muttering under her breath.

When they were gone, silence stretched between us. Nathaniel’s gaze settled on me, and my breath caught.

“What did he say to you?” His voice was low, controlled.

“Nothing,” I whispered. “Just… guidance.”

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “Stay away from him.”

“Why?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

“Because men like him hide behind holy words,” he said hoarsely. “And because if he lays another hand on you, I’ll—” He cut himself off, turning sharply away.

My chest tightened, heat crawling through me at the dangerous promise in his unfinished words.

---

Dinner that evening was unbearable. The clink of silverware, the murmur of conversation—it all felt sharp as glass against my skin. Clarissa and Isabel leaned close to each other, whispering and giggling, their eyes flicking toward me every so often.

“Tell us,” Isabel purred at one point, her voice dripping with false innocence. “Did he make you kneel in prayer?”

Clarissa’s laugh was cruel. “Or maybe he just reminded her how unworthy she is. She looks like she cried all afternoon.”

Mother’s sigh was soft but heavy. “Honestly,” she said, shaking her head. “Can’t you stop provoking them?”

“I didn’t do anything!” My protest cracked with emotion.

“You exist,” Clarissa muttered, echoing yesterday’s cruelty.

Tears burned my eyes, but I swallowed them down. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Mother’s gaze lingered on me, cold and sharp. “Go to your room. Before you embarrass us further.”

I shoved back from the table, my appetite gone, their mocking laughter following me up the stairs like a curse.

---

In my room, I locked the door and pressed my back against it. My pulse raced. My head was full of voices—Gabriel’s soft command, Nathaniel’s warning, my sisters’ cruel laughter.

And beneath them all, a whisper I could barely admit to myself:

You want them both.

My thighs pressed together. My body ached with shameful need.