Sisters of Sorrow by Axel Blackwell

why she thinks you are weak? She thinks you are weak because you let her think so. I told you what kind of refuse we house here. These children will walk all over you with their lies and their scams. Worse than niggers and gypsies, all of them! Do not be taken in by her sniveling and her pitiful eyes. I don’t know what she’s up to, but I do know it’s no good! If she truly needed a bandage she would have asked me , or she would have gone to the infirmary. Are you listening to me, Sister Dolores?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Where is your crop?”
    Sister Dolores drew the leather crop from her habit.
    “Have you used it yet?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “Well then, allow me to show you how it’s done.” Sister Eustace seized Sister Dolores’s left wrist. With the other hand, she snatched the crop, raised it over her head and lashed Sister Dolores’s knuckles. She struck so violently that Anna thought the crop would snap in half. Sister Dolores uttered a sobbing gasp. Her knees buckled and her eyes instantly filled with tears.
    “Stand up,” Sister Eustace spat, “Now, you know that I am not weak, don’t you?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Sister Dolores said in a quavering voice. Sister Eustace held her wrist so tightly that the skin of Sister Dolores’s hand had turned white. A red and bright-purple ridge swelled diagonally across the back of Sister Dolores’s hand.
    “You know that you cannot play me for a fool.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Sister Dolores said, with a little more composure.
    “Very good.” Sister Eustace smiled warmly and handed the crop back to Sister Dolores. “Now, you teach little Miss Anna the lesson I just taught you.”
    The servility and pain in Sister Dolores’s eyes turned to cruel glee as she shifted her gaze to Anna. She rubbed the leather against her palm, smiled at it, even seemed to be whispering to it.
    “Three lashes, Sister Dolores, one for lying about her foot, one for thinking you are a fool. And one for the pain she has caused you,” Sister Eustace said. “Anna, hold out your hand.”
    Anna stretched her hand out. It tingled already in anticipation of pain. Just focus on my hand and my lies and all my other little sins and forget about my shoe . She thought, desperately. I’m a wicked little girl and I don’t deserve a bandage. I didn’t even ask for a bandage. Lash my knuckles all you want, take another finger if you must, but leave my shoe alone. She saw the hideous stripe across Sister Dolores’s hand and whimpered. She closed her eyes, and her thoughts changed , this is the last time, this is the last time, this is the last time…
    Sister Dolores’s pale, bony fingers curled around her wrist. Anna heard the whistle of the crop slicing through the air, and then a crack like a pistol shot. Her eyes flew open and she gawked at her knuckles with a terror of unbelief. A red welt rose there, but she felt nothing, not the slightest sting. The crop fell again with a gut wrenching snap. And again, no pain accompanied the blow. Anna stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Sister Dolores. As the third painless blow echoed through the dining hall, Anna’s knees gave out and she flopped to a cross-legged seat on the floor.
    Sister Eustace laughed out loud. “My, my, sister, I don’t believe I’ve seen little Anna so surprised in many years.” She laughed a bit more then added, “I doubt she will mistake you for weak again.”
    “No, I don’t suppose she will,” Sister Dolores mused, watching Anna. The mischief twinkled again in her eyes and, when Sister Eustace turned to walk away, she winked at Anna. “But, I really think you ought to have a look at her foot, ma’am, just to be safe. If it gets infected…”
    “Sister Dolores! The last thing in this creation I wish to see is that girl’s infected foot,” Sister Eustace said without turning. “Especially so soon after eating.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Sister Dolores called after her.
    “March her straight down to the