I nodded and she smiled, resuming her movements. The water stopped and I forced myself to relax my jaw. Her hands began massaging the soap into my scalp and I closed my eyes. I wished that the motions weren’t aggravating my already sensitive scalp, otherwise it would have been the closest thing to a massage I’d ever gotten.
A strand of hair was tugged, wrapped around her finger and I winced.
“Shit. Sorry,” she muttered.
Elder Sam tsked, shaking his head at me.
“Who can remind Miss Olivia the appropriate way to form an apology?” he asked, stalking around the back of my chair.
My heart raced in my chest, nausea swirling in my gut. I flinched at the sound of metal clinking as he unfastened his belt.
Someone cleared their throat. “Please forgive me for—state the action. It was— that is where you define the sin behind your actions. I accept your just punishment as reparation, and I repent for my wrongdoings. In this case, Miss Olivia would say: Please forgive me for using profanity. It was disobedient to use a wicked word. I accept your just punishment as reparation, and I repent for my wrongdoings.”
His belt hissed as it slid from around his waist.
I swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth.
Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why did I have to let the words slip when I dropped my book on the floor and interrupted the class?
“Thank you, Miss Natasha.”
My jaw clenched. Natasha was the only woman in the class to have yet receive a punishment other than a slap to the cheek our first week. She liked to brag that she was filled with the Holy Spirit, so she rarely made a mistake. I didn’t call her out on the fact that bragging wasn’t very Christ-like of her. I generally ignored her as much as possible, although that was difficult when we shared a room.
“And why, Miss Natasha, do we refrain from using the word ‘sorry’?” Elder Sam said as he paced behind my chair.
The anticipation was almost worse than the humiliation of being scolded and punished in front of my group of peers.
“I can be remorseful that I was caught, but unless I take responsibility and admit my wrongdoings, I cannot fully repent and be forgiven.”
“Indeed. Sorry is a feeling, an emotion. Repentance is an action. Sorry can easily be empty, or a lie. I suppose, if it was genuine, it could tell me that you feel guilty, that you regret your actions, but it doesn’t require a change of heart. It does nothing to inform me of your willingness to repent, to change, or to accept responsibility and repair what you broke. A simple ‘sorry’ focuses on the self, not on the other person we harmed with our actions or words. It doesn’t address the root of the problem, which lies in the heart—that we sin. As Paul says, Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. Therefore, we must humble ourselves, confess and ask for forgiveness as the Lord commands. Only then can we make reparations and truly repent. Stand, Miss Olivia.”
I released a shaky breath, using my hands on the edge of the desk to push myself out of my chair. The skirt of my dress tickled my ankles as I turned to face Elder Sam.
Thick, dark brows rose as his eyes flicked to the front of the room. I swallowed and slowly turned around to walk to his desk. I eyed the documents stacked on the left side, his open Bible and the cup of pens.
His footsteps were heavy, right behind my own, and the sweat itched my underarms as I stopped, my hips on the edge of the desk.
“Bend,” he commanded.
I turned my face away from the room, staring at the whiteboard behind his desk as I lowered my chest until I was bent at the waist. My breath tickled the paper beneath my cheek, making the pages flutter.
My whole body tensed with anticipation as I waited for the bite of his belt to hit me. Someone coughed and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. I hated that they had to watch, that they got to see me humiliated. The anticipation made my skin pebble with goosebumps.
I flinched, my pubic bone painfully digging into the edge of the desk as the sting flared against the back of my thighs. It hurt worse than if he hadn’t missed my backside.
“What does John tell us about apologizing?”
I breathed through the burning of my flesh, my brain scrambling for the scripture he was seeking.
“If-If we claim to be without sin…we deceive ourselves and-and the truth is not in us.”
There was a moment of silence, and I shifted my feet, ready for this to be over.
“Go on,” he urged.
I swallowed the whimper of panic building in my chest. I couldn’t remember the next verse.
“I-I-I don’t know it, Elder Sam.”
