A Nymph's Liturgy

Sex.

I was hooked on it, it was something I couldn't be without for too long.

It was something my body needed and longed for.

It frustrated me because I felt powerless to resist.

Whenever I tried to deny myself this enjoyment, my body only found ways to make me suffer.

As a kid, my dad always told me to steer clear of things that weren't mine or that I couldn't have.

But I never listened, if I wanted something, I always made sure to get it.

As I grew up, people saw me as a spoiled brat because of this, and they were completely mistaken.

To the world, I was his daughter, also seen as a young temptress who acted without thinking.

Careless.

An adjective used for someone or their actions without considering the outcome.

I heard that word a lot when I turned sixteen; it felt like I didn't care about anything at all.

Today is my nineteenth birthday, and Grandma, being the devoted Christian she is, prayed with me for over twenty minutes, hoping for a long, pure life.

"Do you really need to show so much skin?" Grandma looked at me disapprovingly as I walked down the long white stairs.

The room buzzed with chatter, and there was a banner proclaiming 'Happy Birthday Serena. '

Men wore suits, and women had dresses that touched their ankles.

Here I was in a wine-colored dress that was cut short, reaching my mid-thigh with a deep v-neck that highlighted my chest.

"Isn't there something in your Bible that says, 'Tho shall be comfortable in thy skin'? "

she shot me a glare while gripping her small brown book tightly.

"Serena, come here, please," I heard my dad call to me while talking to a man and a woman.

I walked over to join him, standing with a family; a married woman was looking at me with narrowed eyes and her husband couldn't take his gaze off my bare thighs and the low cut of my dress.

"Serena, this is Beatrice and her husband.

You know them, right? " Dad introduced, and I stared at the couple I had never met before; he glared at me, urging me to go along with it.

"Actually, no, I don't," I said, forcing a brief smile at the woman, who returned a fake one.

"I was best friends with your mother in college, around the same age as you," she said, linking her arm with her husband's while he licked his lips, eyeing me intensely.

"Your eyes are just like hers. She'll be greatly missed. " My smile almost faded, but I held on.

"Mom never mentioned you. Are you certain you were really close? " I replied, tilting my head slightly.

"That's enough, Serena," Dad warned, and I rolled my eyes.

I'm shocked at the nerve of these people who act like they knew my mother and her kindness, only to turn around and criticize both her and me for something we never asked for.

It frustrates me even more that my father let this happen, and I struggle to see him as the dad I was supposed to admire.

The reality is he felt embarrassed about her. He kept his distance until she reached her limit.

He only talks about her if others mention her, and everyone, including him, just seems to show fake sadness and speak softly about her to "comfort" us during tough times.

"I think it might be a good idea to get you a drink; would you like to join me? " his husband said, appearing to be in his late thirties.

It seemed like the pressure of being married to a fake person weighed on him, as silver strands were starting to show in his once thick black hair.

I followed the handsome man to a big table hidden from everyone, including his wife and my dad.

As I started to pour myself a drink, I sensed him close behind me.

"Is there something you need? " I set the glass down, noticing his hands move to my waist.

I hated that my body reacted so quickly.

"The person I need is right here," he said as he pushed my hair back.

"What I want is beneath this dress. " He leaned his head into my neck while his hand touched the thin fabric. His finger gently traced down my chest.

"You have a wife," I closed my eyes, trying to convince myself that this was wrong, though my mind was fixated on the idea that it wasn't.

My body didn't seem to care about any possible consequences he might have.

"As if you care, you're just like your mother. Another cock starved whore," he said.

For one few times in my life, my body and my mind agreed, they both chose to ignore that I was soaking wet, but not because of him, rather because of how his touch felt.

The loud sound of a groan filled my ear when my heel hit his foot hard.

I was so angry that I turned away from the pathetic man, leaving him to suffer, and saw my dad talking to Grandma.

She nodded along with whatever he was saying as they approached me.

"We should head home now, there are many things we need to talk about. "

Everything felt strange, and deep down, I had a strong feeling my birthday was going to end poorly again.

I followed them into our limousine as we reached our fancy mansion. Dad was the first to turn around while Grandma took a seat next to him.

"What is this about? " I asked as I shut the door behind me.

"Go on, tell her Sebastian, she has the right to know before tomorrow," Grandma said, placing a small, brown book in her lap.

"You are now eighteen, Serena. You have been given chances to show you're not following in her footsteps, and once again, you have failed," he said as he took out a photo from the table near him.

He showed it to me; it was a picture of me sneaking out of his business partner's house. "How"-

"See, Sebastian? The first thing out of her mouth is asking how they got this.

This place will be great for her," I shot a glare at Grandma, who only looked at my dad.

"What place? " I let the photo drop from my hands to the floor when he let out a sigh.

"Your Grandma and I have decided to send you to Marblegate Academy.

You are old enough now, and this school will help you stay focused on your studies"-

"And teach you to pray for forgiveness for your terrible mistakes," she added, finishing his thought.

"I'm not"-

In this house, conversations always meant your words got cut off.

"Don't even argue, because this decision is final. It has already been arranged, and your bags are already packed. "

"This isn't fair at all; you can't just send me across the world like this. Fuck!" I felt myself getting more and more frustrated.

They seemed eager to ship me off, as if they were waiting for me to make a mistake.

He was sending me to a horrible place; Marblegate was a top boarding school and one of the best universities in the world.

It was also famous for its focus on religious studies.

It was the same school my mom went to, the same one I blamed for ruining her life.

"Why not? You are showing signs of being just like her. Marblegate helped her, and it'll help you too.

You'll continue with your English and Art majors there while also finding your way back to God," Grandma shot back quickly.

"Helped? Helped her? Because of that school, she's dead," I held back tears that threatened to fall.

"Serena"-

"Don't talk about my daughter when you know nothing about her. " She rises to her feet.

"You never even mention her, and when you do, it's to slut shame her. " I express my frustration by throwing my hands up.

"One thing I know for sure is that apart from being a bad mother, you're why she can't even recall my name. "

She puts her hand over her heart, surprised by what I said.

"That's enough, Serena. We're done with this talk; your flight leaves tomorrow morning. " I see him walking up the white staircase, and then I hear the door to his office bang shut.

Grandma glares at me, full of anger.

"Even if she could remember you, she'd be upset by who you've become because you're just like her. "

"Maybe once you get to Marblegate, you'll learn some respect, something you both share. " She grabs her belongings and closes the door hard.

Grandma has always been very religious, and when she discovered her daughter had what she calls the "devil's curse," she sent her straight to Marblegate.

I never knew what happened during her time there; I still recall the warmth of her hugs when I was little.

But I also remember the endless trips to the hospital and those late nights.

Many would say if I wanted to see what she looked like, I should just look in the mirror.

I looked like her exactly.

From my fair golden skin to my long black hair that flowed down to my waist, with its natural waves.

My eyes were two different colors: one like the afternoon sun shining through a glass of whiskey and the other like the deep ocean under the moon.

The shape of my body, from my waist to my well-shaped breasts to my flat stomach, and the tattoos reading "Sere" on my left side, and a rose on my finger and wrist.

Some would say my full lips seemed to crave everything I couldn't have.

My appearance was a big part of why people always compared me to her throughout my life.

I often heard my relatives murmuring about how shameful it was to have hypersexuality, thinking it was enough to make God turn his back on us.

Before I was ever diagnosed, they sent me to therapy or took me to church to rid me of the "badness," and they looked so upset when they realized they had failed after my first diagnosis.

I was constantly told to blame her for my behavior.

I did things that would shock even the worst sinner, not because I wanted to but because even the tiniest touch, whether it was sexual or not, could ignite a burning desire in me.

Alright, Happy birthday to Me.

The whole car trip here, Grandma kept quoting verses from the Bible to me.

I was almost ready to leap out of this moving vehicle.

Even on the plane, she wouldn't stop going on about how amazing Marblegate would be for me.

I got up to escape her and found myself in the back storage with the attractive co-pilot.

"Dominic is a friend of mine and he's the Dean of Marblegate.

He knows about your mother and your arrival, and that. . . issue you have," I sighed and stared out the window.

She couldn't even say nymphomania, as if saying it would hurt her.

"Behave here, Serena. God will forgive those who have sinned if they truly want to follow His way," she said, placing a tiny copy of her own Bible on my lap.

The sleek black car stopped in front of the grand, golden gates.

As they opened for us, I looked around at the academy.

The roofs looked like something out of a castle, with two tall buildings encircling the smaller white one that looked like winter snow.

Huge pillars stood out in front, and dark black windows kept anyone outside from seeing in.

The elegant appearance of the school matched exactly what the magazines had described.

When the door opened for me, I saw a woman with reddish-brown hair holding a black portfolio with my information inside.

She inspected me closely from head to toe before letting out a quiet "hmph. "

Her high heels thudded heavily against the concrete ground.

Then, a man next to her stared at me with annoyance while smiling at my Grandma.

"Dominic," she greeted, while my bags were placed beside me.

Dominic was tall with slicked-back mahogany hair that had a few silver strands.

He wore glasses that hid dark, angry eyes and had wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth.

He had a cross necklace dangling from his neck and was dressed in a suit that looked like something a Pope would wear.

He stepped down and shook Grandma's hand. "Great to see you again. "

"Dominic, Marblegate has never looked better," she said cheerfully.

His eyes shifted back to me, and he looked at me like he was seeing my mother again.

"You even have her eyes," he said, referring to my heterochromia.

"She is my mother," I replied sarcastically, which made Grandma nod in embarrassment and Dominic smile slightly.

"You seem to have inherited her attitude too. I think we should talk more in my office," he said. I looked at Grandma before she left.

"Your father will reach out to you.

Behave," I said without saying much else, watching the car drive away.

I followed him into the big building, filled with paintings of God and another large cross in the middle of the room.

"Please have a seat, Ms. Moretti," he says as we step into his office and he sits down at his desk.

I sit in the chair in front of him while he leans forward with his elbows on the oak desk and his hands crossed.

"As you know, Marblegate Academy is designed for students like you who often prioritize their teenage feelings over their education.

Marblegate is a boarding school focused on academics, and we believe in keeping you away from what you feel you can't live without: sexual activity.

This leads me to talk about our rules," he continues to explain.

"We have very clear guidelines concerning sexual activity and relationships among students.

Such behavior is completely forbidden, and if you do not follow these rules, you will lose your scholarship and your chance to continue your studies here," the Dean tells me, his hands resting on the oak desk.

Around his late forties, he looked his age, with a few gray hairs starting to thin out.

There were lines on his forehead and around his mouth, and a glare in his eyes when he looked at me.

"We knew you were coming, Miss Moretti.

We have connections with your father who is aware of your mother and her past here.

We will watch you closely because of your condition and how it might affect our rules," he starts to tell me how much my father cares about my life here, even though he chose to send me to the same school where my grandmother sent my mother when she was young.

"We hope you won't repeat the same errors, especially considering how smart you are," I wait for him to finish before I respond.

"I promise to behave well, sir," he gives me a cold look because of my sarcastic reply.

"Please follow Clara to your room. Also, take this," he gives me a bible and a cross necklace.

I look at the tiny white card, which has a schedule for praying for forgiveness for our sins, as stated in the eyes of the Lord.

I shut the door and follow Clara to a room that has my luggage.

The room felt peaceful, with white curtains gently swaying because of the open window, allowing a gentle breeze to fill the space.

The big bed was covered with white sheets matching the curtains, and there was a nice bathroom along with my bags scattered around and a desk with a small lamp for studying late at night.

"As the Headmaster's assistant, it's my responsibility to report anything that violates the many rules we have here," she hands me a white packet filled with writing that I have no intention of reading.

"Please remember that we will monitor your behavior to see if you improve," I how how they talk to me as if I were a child right now.

"If you are doing well, we will allow you to visit home on weekends or let you go out in the city.

Many of our privileges are for the students, and some students are in charge of organizing parties on campus. "

"You cannot enter the rooms of the opposite gender, nor can you sneak around.

You must be in your room by ten; going out later will lead to punishment, which means you will lose your independence, and someone will be at your door to oversee your time here. "

"Follow these simple rules, and your time here will go smoothly. "

"Is that everything? " I ask, feeling tired of this entire place already.

"Welcome to Marblegate Academy," she leaves without saying anything more, and I take out my phone from my bag.

The absence of calls feels like it's glaring at me, so I throw my phone onto the pillow behind me along with a little book and a necklace.

Since I arrived, my dad hasn't reached out at all.

He didn't even come to say goodbye when I got on the plane, and I really didn't mind.

He was eager to send me off in a way that reminded me of how Grandma said goodbye to Mom.

Dad was very close with Grandma; they seemed to think alike and always agreed on things about Mom.

Back home, people knew me for my label and for being my mother's daughter, constantly facing shame for something I couldn't control.

Instead of crying, I try to accept it.

I don't miss hearing the whispers around me when I walk by groups of people, the women who shame me and give me dirty looks, and the men who view me as just another object, referring to me as a 'whore' until I make sure they regret those thoughts.

I stepped into the glass shower and let the warm water pour over my skin, as the lovely smell of vanilla and cocoa filled the air while I covered myself in soap until it rinsed away.

As the water soaked into my hair, my natural black waves began to show when I turned off the shower and got out.

Is this really my life now?

Following the rules was just one of many things I wasn't going to do.

P