Point of view: Mylova
We were on our way to the Abbey, and I still couldn't believe my own mother had delivered me to these men.
After her confession the night before, I had naively thought she might change her mind. But no. That revelation had only strengthened her resolve. She is terrified of her past — I know it. Yet if my mother had kept silent, if she had carried that secret to her grave, no one would have ever found out that Louis wasn't my soulmate, as they claimed.
And now, everything is ruined.
I know her confession also broke my father's heart. My father… he loves her more than anything. When I was little, his eyes would shine as he told me how overjoyed he had been the day they told him my mother was his soulmate. He never believed in all those legends, but that day, he didn't even know how to stand still, he was so happy.
My father is a strong man. An upright man who never shows weakness — except to me. I could see it in his eyes: the discomfort, the silent pain. Whenever I asked what was wrong, he would always reply, "It's work, sweetheart." But yesterday, for the first time, I knew it was her. My mother.
She cannot read between the lines. She ignores the wounds she inflicts. If she could read between my father's, she would see his silent plea: "Stop thinking about him, I beg you." Claude. That cursed name. My father fights every day to erase it from her heart. But it's a losing battle.
I suppose that's also why she is so intent on sending me to this hell for a month — to harden my heart, to rip me away from Louis, to ensure my soul never strays like hers did.
---
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even notice we had arrived.
This place… it wasn't a refuge. It wasn't a house of peace. It was a scar carved into stone.
My mother looked at me for a long time without speaking. Her eyes said, "I'm sorry, but it's for your own good." But I didn't want to be here. I was supposed to be with Louis, at the new library that had just opened in town. She had ruined my plans, my hope, and what was left of my happiness.
So, as a final goodbye, I threw her the words she would never forget:
— I will always remember the day my own mother handed me over, against my will, to a devil in disguise… knowing full well I might lose my life there.
Before she could respond, I walked firmly toward the heavy wooden doors.
The walls, blackened by soot and damp, seemed to swallow all light, as if they hid a sin too old to be washed away. The smell of incense burned my eyes. It mixed with a sharper stench — scorched metal and candles burned down too quickly.
With each step, my shoes echoed on the stone like the sound of my own guilt.
The statues of saints watched me without mercy. Their marble eyes were colder than any man's. Every corner bore a cross, yet none offered me the slightest peace.
The silence here was not holy. It was heavy. Oppressive. It felt as if it held back muffled screams, torn prayers, and past sufferings forced into quiet submission.
And him — the Abbot… He didn't walk, he glided. His black cassock was stiff like armor. His gaze was fixed, his voice lifeless — a chant recited a thousand times.
When he called me "child," the word held no tenderness. There was no father, no guide — only a judge. A butcher in disguise.
---
On the way to my room, I saw a young girl being carried by two other abbots. Her body was covered in wounds. Whip marks. A gaping hole pierced the flesh of her ankle.
I felt my stomach twist. The Abbot beside me must have seen my reaction, because he said, in a dry tone, as if it were obvious:
— A demon, that one. She refuses to submit to God's will. She challenges our laws.
I stared at him in disbelief.
— You… you harm children because they refuse to follow your delusions? Don't you think you should question how you "guide" souls? She's just a child, for God's sake!
— For God's sake, she must obey our laws, he replied, unyielding.
— Your laws are monstrosities! You destroy the Lord's name with every breath you take!
He stopped, measured me with his eyes, and said coldly:
— Mademoiselle Dumas, we thought you were more docile than that insolent girl, but it seems we were mistaken. Do not waste our time. Submit, or you will meet the same fate as that foolish little girl who thought she could escape without paying the price. If you value your pretty face, I suggest you keep quiet and obey.
To say I was terrified would be an understatement. I was frozen in fear.
Behind these walls, I had already seen the monsters they were — and the cruelty they were capable of.
I didn't know it yet, but I was about to live through the worst moments of my life.
And all of it… because of my mother.