The Monastery

Fiction | Trigger Warnings : Death, Violence, Self-Harm

It had been two years since my life in the outside world ended and my new one began here in the monastery. We called it our past lives, as if we were reborn when we sliced our palms open and chanted the holy words during the initiation ceremony. I had watched in awe as blood dripped steadily from my hands and I could never forget the moment the crystal goblet touched my lips as I drank my own blood. It tasted almost sweet, rich and filled with hope.

The early days at the monastery felt meaningful in a way that I had never felt before. Everything had a purpose and everyone was looked after and cared for by the community. Our leader, Mother Francesca appeared to be a noble woman; she was kind, courageous and wise beyond her years. She saved me from myself on the day that we met and I found out later that our meeting was no coincidence. I was at my lowest point when I visited the fair, looking for something symbolic to end my life with. She was there under the guise of an antique seller whose booth I visited as an intricately carved dagger caught my eye. The instant our eyes met as she wrapped the dagger with old newspapers, I knew that I had to follow this woman.

I was accepted by the community with open arms. There was a girl around my age who stood out amongst them. Dear, sweet Jane, my one true friend that I made at the monastery. You could say that she was almost like a sister to me. She was beautiful and pure as an angel. We were inseparable until that fateful morning. I was in the prayers hall when suddenly there was a commotion in the backyard. I hurried there with the others and was greeted by the horrible sight of Jane’s body at the bottom of our bedroom tower. Her legs were twisted in an unnatural shape as she lied there, dead. Had she jumped? Was she pushed? Who would kill sweet, innocent Jane?

The police were already there by the time I saw her body. I could not even shed a tear as I was in such a state of disbelief. I heard Mother Francesca lying to the police that Jane had been suffering from depression. Jane had never been unhappy. I wonder why would she say that? Was she hiding something?

Soon, everyone started acting strangely around me. They stared and whispered at each other whenever I walked past them. Before, we were a family but after Jane’s death, for reasons unbeknownst to me, I was treated as a pariah. It was bad enough that I had lost Jane but to lose the whole community made things unbearable. I asked for time away from the monastery but Mother Francesca would not allow it. I began to suspect that I was trapped in a cult. This had to be a cult. How could I have been so stupid? The whole initiation ceremony reeked of demonic presence now that my rose-tinted glasses were off.

About a week later, I overheard a girl saying that Jane was murdered and that I was the prime suspect. I could hardly believe my ears. I snapped and challenged her to repeat her words to me. Her face grew pale and she and her companion fled. I could see that they were afraid of me. I would have chased after them but for some reason, I could not walk properly since Jane’s death. I think that the shock of seeing her dead body had put a huge toll on my own body.

That night, something strange happened as I got out from the shower. In the foggy mirror, I saw Jane’s reflection looking back at me. A cold feeling crept over me but I missed her too much to be frightened. She was crying as she begged me to stop. Stop what? What had I done? It made no sense at all. My blood began to boil. Was she blaming me for her death, too? I smashed the mirror into a thousand pieces. The skin on my knuckles tore and blood flowed out from the cuts. I was so consumed by anger to feel any pain at all.

I had to find the answer right away. It was already past midnight but this simply could not wait. I stormed into Mother Francesca’s bedroom. Luck would have it that her door was unlocked. I shook her violently from her sleep. Her eyes opened in a terror. I demanded to know what had she done to Jane.

She looked genuinely puzzled as she asked me slowly, “Jane, are you alright?” I repeated my question “What have you done to Jane? Did you kill her?” Her eyes widened as she stammered, “I don’t understand what you are talking about, Jane.” Again, with that slow tone as if I was a stupid child.

“Stop calling me Jane! She is dead. Why did you lie to the police?”

“Jane, please calm down. You must not get too worked up. You’re still recovering from the accident.”

“What accident?”

Mother Francesca said softly, “Don’t you remember? You were in a car accident. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” My voice had gone shaky.

She looked at me and said, “Jane, your sister passed away in the accident. I am so sorry. I know that you and Francesca are close.”

My sister? Francesca? I didn’t have a sister, and most certainly not one with the same name as her! A blind rage came over me. How dare she patronised me. I pulled out my dagger from my pocket, the very same one that I had bought from her two years ago, and without flinching, drove it into her chest. She let out a scream that quickly turned into a gurgle as I continued stabbing her repeatedly. Her eyes bulged and she coughed up blood, staining the front of her nightgown. She tried to push me away with one hand while using the other hand to clutch at her own throat.

It was then that I noticed that Mother Francesca had the same wounds on her knuckles as I did. That was strange but I did not have time to wonder as I suddenly felt very weak as if my body was drained of blood. There was a sharp pain in my chest and as I looked down, I saw that my bloodied hand was holding a pair of scissors that was embedded in my chest. “What’s happening?!” I thought frantically as I started sputtering blood. I closed my eyes and opened them again as I heard someone from the bed next to mine screaming, “Somebody help! Call the doctors! Oh my God, she is bleeding!”

Hey everyone! Thanks for reading the story. I have a very specific interpretation of the ending but I will not take the experience away from you. The thing that I like most about psychological thrillers is that I get to think about the story. Feel free to share your thoughts on what you think actually happened in the story.

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