Her father was holding her waist, smiling. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel.
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