That night, the girl lay in her room with her door locked. Ever since the peeping incident, she thought of it as less of a cell and more of a private retreat. She used to see the strict rules as suffocating and oppressive. Now they were like a protective cradle, shielding her from danger.
She’d kept the shutters closed on her window to protect herself from the cold, but a thin sliver of moonlight crept through. And though the senior sister had treated her wound earlier, it still stung. She wouldn’t be able to lie on her back and sleep. Heat concentrated around the injury, her skin swollen. She was sure it would leave a scar.
But even though the pain was distracting, she was certain of one thing.
I don’t regret what I did.
She had saved the boy—and in doing so, she’d convinced the townsfolk to rethink their amusement at another person’s pain. Her presence had changed people’s minds.
It had finally sunk in.
I’m such an idiot.
She’d been conceited enough to think she was wiser than others. She wasn’t. It wasn’t until today that she could see that.
I thought I was the only one suffering.
Logically, she knew others who had it worse, but she cared more about her own situation than anyone else’s. Her wants and needs were all that had mattered. She had wanted to admit how egotistical she was, always looking for someone or something else to blame. Anything to fit her own narrative.
That’s how I’ve always been.
Whenever she saw anyone else acting like a goody two-shoes, it would rankle her, and she’d disdain them for it despite the fact that she was no different. She so badly wanted to think she was in the right all the time that she convinced herself others were always in the wrong. It was only now that she could face herself head-on.
The girl wrapped her arms around herself tightly. Her brow creased at the intense pain. Still, she couldn’t help smiling when she remembered how she’d defended that poor boy.
I’m surprised at myself.
She hadn’t known she had it in her to do that for someone else. Maybe this was a side effect of the effort she’d put in to broaden her mind. She, who had always blamed others rather than take responsibility, had actually done something for someone else. Even an idiot like her could save other people. That didn’t solve the root of the issue, but others had praised her for it. She had done something others couldn’t.
Not even power and wealth can solve all the problems in the world. There were still many out there who needed help. Children were starving. As a poor nun of the church, the girl had neither wealth nor power—but for a moment, at least, she had protected someone. That boy now had the opportunity to change his behavior and do better for himself. I may be powerless, but there is something I can do for others.
The world was unfair. She was one of many people who had nothing. For a long time, she had been shortsighted, only caring about herself. Today was different. It was neither the king nor the pope who’d stepped in to save that boy. It had been her, no one else.
I did that. Me!
And people had commended her for doing so. This wasn’t all in her head. It was real, and it was still sinking in.