“Did you sleep with them—those guys?”
“It was heading there. But I didn’t quite get to that point before Brother Vito contacted me. It’s nothing I ever thought I’d do. But people have no idea of the things they’ll actually do when they hit rock bottom. When their backs are against the wall.”
“You get it.” A small sob cracked Yolanda’s voice. “That’s exactly how it was for me. Some of the girls I worked with were fine with it, but they were the ones who knew exactly what they were walking into. It’s the ones like us who are desperate who end up hating ourselves.”
The last of the light slipped behind the tall walls of the monastery.
Everyone headed inside.
Like every night, we sat in the refectory and amused ourselves in the hours before dinner—reading, playing cards and chatting. There was no room set aside with comfortable armchairs or sofas—it seemed that the monks must work from dusk to dawn and had no need of such things.
Everyone seemed to be shouting—their voices bouncing off the stone, hexagonal walls. Challenge four had left us all charged with adrenalin and fear of what was coming next—fear we were trying hard to cover up.
I was glad for the quiet of the dormitory after our meal of pot roast.
Quiet, calm. A space to regenerate.
But in my bed, with the lights out and the metronomes ticking, I couldn’t rest. I’d lost the last challenge. If the fifth challenge was even rougher and I lost it too, I’d be out of the program. My debts wouldn’t be paid. I’d get thirty thousand—for my three completed challenges. That would only pay for half of my debt. I’d still be in way over my head.
My life so far seemed like a stack of failures, one on top of the other.
My mother had kept me well informed of my failings when I was growing up. There was something wrong with everything I did. I’d been blissfully ignorant that Ben was her favourite until the age of twelve, on the day I first got my period. It was the same day Ben sprained his ankle playing soccer. My mother told me to quit fussing and had presented me with a packet of sanitary pads. But she’d nursed Ben and his ankle all afternoon.
For a while, it was okay because Dad and Ben made up for what my mother lacked. But Dad died the year I turned thirteen, of a brain tumour. Ben died the year I turned seventeen.
Everything turned to ashes.
Until I met Gray.
And now I’d gone and burned it all to the ground again.
My mind replayed something Ben said the month before he died, when he was just nineteen—his voice serious but his eyes smiling: Once you’re born, you have the responsibility of making yourself some sort of a life, something that justifies the grand privilege of having won the race out of millions of sperm and thousands of eggs. You made it. Surely after winning against such odds, there should be a winner’s life ahead?
I had to start winning.
At midnight, when the bells woke me, Ben’s words were still in my mind and silently on my lips. An anger seared my insides. Anger at the winner’s life Ben hadn’t had a chance to pursue. Anger at myself for losing at life. Anger at Ruth and the monks and the mentors who were making my time here so hard. Anger at the monastery for making me feel so defeated.
Good. I’d use the anger to get through this.
Over half the beds were now empty. There was just Poppy, Kara, Mei, Louelle, Yolanda and myself in the women’s dorm now.
Poppy and I were in the second group to leave the room. I loved Poppy, but I couldn’t help wishing I’d gotten put with Louelle or Yolanda instead. From what I’d seen, they were better at the challenges. But still, Poppy tried hard.
Out in the hallway, Duncan met us. I couldn’t conceal my raging disappointment at getting lumbered with him in my team. “You’d better pull your weight, Dunc. If you try to stand there and direct like a traffic controller, I swear I’ll punch you in your soft belly.”
Poppy inhaled sharply in surprise.
I wanted to feel bad about what I’d just said and apologise, but I had no apology left in me.
Duncan’s temples flushed. “Was that necessary? We haven’t even gotten to the challenge room yet.”
Not bothering to answer, I whirled around and sprinted towards the cloister.
Poppy caught up with me, panting. “You okay?”
“No. You?”
“No,” she admitted.
We reverted to silence as we ran out into the garden.
Something had changed in the mentors’ faces. Their expressions were serious, almost unyielding. As if they were guiding us on how we had to be to get through this.