Page 35 of The Gathering
He squinted at the light coming his way. A lantern?
Her white form took shape in the low illumination. Not a nurse. A nun.
“Sister Beatrice, at your service,” she confirmed with a small nod, greeting him like a guest. “I was asked to watch over you and provide for any needs you may have. Are you ready for the lavatory?”
Before he could wonder what she meant, his bladder clued him in. “Yes,” he said, eager to be free of the odd prison encasing him.
Beatrice. Did he know her?
“I will see to it,” she said, setting the lantern on a small table and turning up the flame.
The shadows shrunk, revealing gray cement walls in a square room the size of a king’s closet.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in The Bishop’s Hatch,” she said, heading out of the room, the name registering and yet not.
The Bishop.
“Is that your superior?” he called, his mind giving more blanks.
A minute later, she returned with, “God is my only superior, but Mr. Bishop is in the position of authority here and therefore my superior of sorts.”
She stood next to him, her eyes big and round right on his. The white head wear caused the blue in her gaze to shimmer like stormy waters.
She raised a mason jar and a pair of scissors. Both puzzled his brain as she snapped the shears.Shink-shink.
The sound unlocked something strategic in his brain. “Are you cutting me loose?”
Her eyes swerved to his midsection. “I am.” She looked back at him with a breezy smile. “At least the part that allows you to relieve yourself.”
He tensed as she set the mason jar on the bed next to his body then worked the sheers under the thick mystery net covering him from neck to ankles.
His breath stilled in his chest as one name rose in his mind. “Beth,” he said, looking at the nun as every memory of her rushed in. “Where is she?”
“I would assume she’s with her husband who is also the Bishop,” she muttered, sawing the scissors against the net. “You can thank her for your life. I don’t believe you’d have one if she hadn’t given him strict orders not to harm you. And clearly my physical strength had laughable impact on both of you, standing there trying to choke one another of all things,” she fussed while waging a tug-of-war with the binding on his dick.
She huffed and drew back, out of breath. “What on earth is that smelly thing made of,” she marveled while he fought to piece together the puzzle her words conjured.
“We fought?” he asked.
She turned, her eyes narrowed and sharp. “You don’t remember?”
He considered his answer carefully. “I don’t.”
Her brow furrowed and she regarded his mid-section again, as if torn over which problem to tackle. “Well… it started off civilly enough,” she mumbled, her gaze landing on him in earnest curiosity.
“You said Beth instructed him not to hurt me.” She was the key to his memories. The key to everything that needed remembering.
“Yes, she did,” she nodded, slowly, then a lot. “The Belle Eveque was emphatic about it. Which is why I did what I did.”
He grunted as she got back to her job, shoving aside the severed binding then undoing his pants.
“Don’t worry, I’m a nurse,” she said boldly, working at his underwear now. “You have nothing I haven’t seen before a million times.”
He suddenly remembered more. About himself.
“Oh my God!” she cried, both hands covering her shocked mouth. Her wide eyes moved from his cock to his face then back to his cock.
