#the bark has been removed from 1 young nun

[ahollowgrave]

Bark (noun): the sound made by a barking dog. // a bite worse than her bark.

The longer you are at this convent the more you lose.

It is not all bad, but --

Cutting your hair was difficult. You know it was for the best. You know it was too matted and too dirty and had little bugs in it that made the Mother look sick. (Something you noted. For later.) And Sister Kindness let you cut her hair first. Now, you compare the length of the new growth in a conspiratorial fashion. 

It is not all bad, but --

You snap less. You no longer bite and kick and scratch. You are learning your chores. You feel pride when Sister Kindness praises the care you give the sheep and the garden. You’ve packed up every cuss word you have ever known (even the very funny ones) and they no longer pass your lips. You still shout and holler but you know when it is appropriate.

Your hair is long enough to braid, again.

You bring flowers for the dinner table. 

It is not all bad, but --

Menphina’s loving embrace is ice cold and when you reach for her you are lost in the steam that comes with contact; Her Love against the white-hot heat of your fear-tinged anger. 

You come away each time feeling the heat less and less but you worry -- does this mean Her Love diminishes as well?

Worry so quickly turns to agitation and agitation to fear and fear to anger.

It is not all bad, but --

You can feel it beneath your skin. Not the white-hot anger you are used to but something more. Something precise and sharp and clear.  Something that builds and builds and builds and there is no release, no relief. You can only smile and nod and laugh while something cold burrows into your chest. It is a tension in your heart and each pump of the muscle threatens to snap it. A creature that gives no warning before it bites is a dangerous one.