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BIANCA BORELL
Trepidation skitters down my spine when I see my father’s name on my phone.
One ring, two, three rings seep through my skin like rattling snakes. I pick up, holding my breath as I touch the screen to answer.
“It is time to return home, Aurora. The jet will arrive in a few days. Be ready.” My father’s rough voice blasts through the phone speaker.
He hangs up without another word, as if it’s a chore to talk to me. Which I know it is, considering this is the only time he has called me personally in the seven years since he sent me away.
My father pays a fortune to keep me secluded here, even though I finished my studies a year ago. Thankfully, with my grades and Sister Theodora’s help, I’ve been taking online English literature classes at the local university.
Tears spill from my eyes, and Chiara, my best friend, hugs me as I cry in her arms. She should be crying, but she’s the stronger one between the two of us. I’m not the one who’s being forced to marry—you’d think arranged marriages were a thing of the past. But here she is, consoling me.
Two girls suffering at the whims of their fathers.
“Everything will be all right.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask, dreading the unknown. Inside the walls of this all-girls school, I have come to know what is expected of me. But outside, there is a whole world of undisclosed expectations.
“Because one day we won’t be at the mercy of our fathers.”
“Don’t do anything stupid when you get home.”
She flops onto her back. Her black hair spills in unruly waves over the pillow.
With a huff, she waves a hand. “I can’t just accept my fate as if I am not even my own person. My entire life has been mapped out for me from birth, Aurora. From the fucking womb. I want a life, a career. I want to do things my way. When or if I want to marry, it should be for love and not to secure my father’s position and power.”
“At least you know what is expected of you.”
Icicles of fear stab my back. Seven years ago, all I wanted was to return home. But with every year, apprehension rose. My father sent me here to an all-girls Catholic school for a reason: to not be seen, even forgotten, just because I look like my mother.
My dead mother who betrayed my father.
My gut screams at me at the impending danger. The only reason my father wants me back is because he has another purpose for me.
“I’m so fucking tired of being nothing more than my father’s chess piece. I’m not even the queen, just an insignificant pawn ready to be sacrificed for the greater good.”
Anger strikes her cheeks red. I place my hand over hers. “There is peace in accepting things we can’t change.”
“No. And what did that bring you, huh? I won’t accept being so helpless.”
A sigh rolls from my lips. The alarms on our phones go off. Time for dinner.
Cold, gray walls surround me. The old wooden floor quakes with every step I take. Through the big lattice-covered window, the sun battles with the heavy clouds gathering. With elbows looped together, we step into the hallway.
All around, a damp smell of hopelessness clings to our gray uniforms, our steps, and our words. Still, I’ve found peace in this place cut out of civilization. It’s comfortable for a prison. Our steps echo in the arched hallway. The walls are wide and carved in centuries-old stones, depicting statues of angels and demons fighting.
This school is a fortress for preserving innocence more than anything else. It’s disgusting.
In front of the big mahogany doors leading to the dining room, Sister Theodora approaches me with a slight limp. A sad, small smile parts her wrinkled lips, the lines getting deeper with every month.
“Go ahead, Chiara. I need to talk with Aurora for a moment.”
Chiara slips past the doors, and Sister Theodora directs me toward the garden, not her office. That’s the first tell. She wants me in a calm place for whatever she’s about to say to me. The last time we came here, I pleaded with her to let me go home. I missed my brother, I missedhim, and I missed home.
The gardens open up into lush green, scattered trees, meticulously trimmed bushes, and a rainbow of colorful flowers. Tending to them has been the highlight of my stay here.
Sister Theodora points to a bench and with every second the silence stretches, I press a palm against my stomach to soothe my nerves.
