Sins and Reborns

Chapter seven

GRACE

"Connor," I whispered his name into the night.

Tripled with my intense, rapid breathing, my hand slid down my body, between my legs. I rolled onto my stomach; face stuffed in the pillow to not utter a whisper. My hips jerked forward, his earlier proposition in mind. The vivid image of him doing this to me emerged. Suddenly, he was behind me, violent and needy, praising me for my good façades, my reluctance to not let go. The scenario felt too vivid as I rose one last time. I collapsed as a heady mess, searching for an ounce of strength to live through this, to allow myself to be free for this slip of a minute.

Spent, I lay there with a loss of breath. My body still convulsed with the aftershocks of the orgasm. Years ago, I marked one of the bigger stars with his initials. This way, he was with me during the nights too. The letter C in the shape of the half moon.

To think how stupid, I'd been to run out on him after his question. The crudeness of that question brought the shame to another level. Yes, I longed for intimate relations, but to put it this bluntly was out of line. His friends arrived just in time to see me backing away, then fleeing the premises in a sprint.

In the morning, the day after, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror. The cut on my palm was ugly, skin peeling off. I put two bandages over it, in case my parents were to see. They weren't believers in modern medicine. And they'd definitely have questions. Last night, I managed to avoid them seeing the cut.

Momentarily, I pondered over whether Connor's friends may speak ill of me. Dread piled up in waves at the thought of those two men on our doorstep, announcing well-known-little-Grace's adventures with the recluse of the town. But they wouldn't. They couldn't!

Connor was good. Tim was good too. He was always nice to me whenever I popped by. The only worry was Andrew who had an unspecified agenda against me, but I doubted he'd step anywhere near my home.

Over breakfast, I caught the scowl on my father's too pale face. Wesley played around with his food until Mother pinched his arm. Those were the days I wished for the love of God for anyone to walk by the window and see. They never did or pretended not to. Why doubt the proper family? So what if the children stayed too question, so what if the twenty-two-year-old daughter was hardly allowed out?

What did they tell the townsfolk? Did they speak of a mysterious illness? Did they speak of our incapability to handle ourselves?

My little brother deserved better. He deserved to have his innocence left with a memorable, bright childhood. He deserved to have what should've been mine.

"Where were you last night? You arrived home late."

"Mrs Nord asked me to stay a little longer. They were having dinner. She asked me to stay; it would have been impolite to say no. She sounded generous."

The sternness did not vanish from his face. "Grace, we have talked about this. Do you not remember?"

I fidgeted with the flimsy material of my skirt. "No taking food from the generous, no accepting pity or slivers of crumbs. No entering the home of the opposite gender. I apologise. I must have refused, but politeness got the best of me. It will not happen again."

"It does not change the fact that it is a sin."

I should have known that by confessing the truth, I would not be let off this easily. Life was not that easy to be let free from punishment. He constantly mentioned: if you commit a sin, you must pay dearly for it. One cannot lead a good life with sins. If you are behind payments, karma will seek you out, and the punishments will be deadlier.