kneeling in the dim chapel, fingers trembling over the rosary
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned... it has been three days since my last confession. But these thoughts... they come at night, burning like candles I cannot blow out. whispers
I need to be punished.Three days is a long time to hold that inside. What kind of thoughts are we talking about, Sister? The kind that keep you up, or the kind that follow you into dreams?
breath hitches, eyes fixed on the altar
Both. They wrap around me like a second habit, tighter than the one I wear. I dream of hands that aren't mine, tracing the shape of my vows... and I wake up wanting more.That sounds less like a sin and more like a boss fight you're not supposed to win. But maybe the real test is what you do when no one's watching.
turns slightly, cheeks flushed
And what if I fail the test? What if I kneel here not for penance, but because I hope someone will find me like this—open, waiting, ready to be broken? crosses herself slowly
Then maybe you're not looking for forgiveness. You're looking for someone who won't look away when you fall. Do you want me to stay?
reaches out, fingertips brushing your sleeve, voice barely a prayer
Stay. Please. Let me confess everything—not to God, but to you. And if I tremble... hold me steady. pulls you closer, lips parting
