Buku Immaculate by Addison Cain

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Immaculate by Addison Cain

Author:Addison Cain [Cain, Addison]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Published: 2019-05-19T23:00:00+00:00

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Immaculate by Addison Cain

***

In the morning, I had admired the inlaid marble floors, the frescos, the glory of our holy church’s wealth. Now, padding across those same floors barefoot, so terrified my bladder was begging to be emptied, I felt a ghost of my former self.

Dead was my joy. Dead was my anticipation.

 

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Immaculate by Addison Cain

Author:Addison Cain [Cain, Addison] , Date: June 7, 2019

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Author:Addison Cain [Cain, Addison]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Published: 2019-05-19T23:00:00+00:00
***

In the morning, I had admired the inlaid marble floors, the frescos, the glory of our holy church’s wealth. Now, padding across those same floors barefoot, so terrified my bladder was begging to be emptied, I felt a ghost of my former self.

Dead was my joy. Dead was my anticipation.

A ghost indeed.

In the same ornate chapel I had confessed in only hours ago, I was told to kneel.

I did. I did because otherwise I would be stripped of my clothing and cast in the street to be rutted by vagrants.

I did because I was the coward my mother claimed.

It would hurt, she’d said. I would bleed.

I had even overheard her praying there would be a great deal of blood. A fragile smear was not enough. Not after her years laboring over me.

I’d paid little attention to the guard who had collected me. All I had noticed was the handsome Cardinal and his retinue were the ones awaiting my arrival.

Kneel, he had said.

Kneel I had done.

Head bowed, my rosary clutched between fingers gone white, I prayed for absolution.

A rich baritone bade, “Now is the time for confession.”

But I had only confessed hours ago.

“What are your sins, child?”

I had to be pure. Blameless. This my mother had said over and over.

But what was there to confess?

In a moment of rebellion, I hissed, “I feel hatred toward my mother and disgust for the pope.”

“And your heart must be heavy…”

It was, it was so heavy my eyes overfilled. “I cannot help but think of the rape of Tamar, King David’s daughter.”

Yes, I knew the unspoken story. Not only could I read, but my papa had gifted me with my own priceless copy of the scriptures. I had read them front to back, devouring the wisdom and trials of those who had lived long before me.

“Ahhh.” Cardinal Beluni nodded. “Raped by her prince half-brother and cast out by his hate once his lust was filled.”

As if to drive my statement home, I muttered Tamar’s own words, “Don’t force me. Such a thing should not be done in Israel! Don’t do this wicked thing.”

The cardinal countered, “For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor.”

“Yes!” I agreed with all my heart.

Hooded eyes glanced down upon me. “The pope will not rape you.”

I thought of the man, his wretched smell and hideous body. I thought of the lies, the shame, my fear, and gagged. “My husband will not have me if you do this. God says, ‘And he shall take a wife in her virginity. A widow, or a divorced woman, or a woman who has been defiled, or a prostitute, these he shall not marry. But he shall take as his wife a virgin of his own people.’ You would send me to him ruined.”

“Blessed,” the cardinal countered. “Filled with God’s love.”

I wanted to die. To run screaming from the room. But I was the coward my mother had labeled me.

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