Hellbound To The Devil

Today, I was not going to die.

That was what I told myself as I sat in the office of the Mother Superior, behind an elegant couple who were claiming, calmly, as if it were perfectly normal, that I was their daughter, stolen from them eighteen years ago.

But why now? They could have done this a long time ago, no? I mean… I’m not the brightest leaf on the tree, but still, Why now?

“We looked for her for many years,” the woman said, voice trembling. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, gaze lowered to her lap.

The man shook his head, looking equally stricken. “I’m sorry, Mother Superior. My wife is very sensitive about this.” He rubbed her back before continuing, “What my wife is trying to say is that it took us years to find her. We never stopped searching. But we also had to care for her twin sister…”

Twin sister.

The words hit me like a slap. My eyes went wide. A twin. Oh my. I screamed silently in my head, heart pounding. I couldn’t wait to tell the girls.

Mother Superior adjusted her glasses and glanced down at a photograph, then back up at me. I immediately straightened in my seat.

Then… she looked away, set the picture down, and addressed the couple.

“You see, the thing is…”

“And you know,” the man cut in, “this orphanage isn’t exactly easy to find. It’s far, middle of nowhere, really. We had to fly halfway across the world, take buses, a boat, and even a donkey cart…”

“Burro,” the woman murmured.

“Burro,” he corrected gently, smiling at her. “Either way, it was quite the journey.”

Mother Superior gave a polite nod. Outside, Vanuatu’s hills shimmered under the sun, full of bright tin roofs and dust that never stayed still.

The island was a tangle of cultures, Bislama, English, and French all spoken here, though English was only taught in certain schools. I’d been learning it since I was five.

Folding her hands, Mother Superior said, “Mr. and Mrs. Hale, there is something you should know.”

The couple leaned forward.

“She has chosen to take vows,” Mother Superior continued gently. “She wishes to spend her life serving the Lord.”

The room went still.

The woman’s mouth fell open. “She… what?”

“Two years ago,” Mother Superior said, “she came to me and asked to join our convent when she came of age. She has been preparing ever since.”

I remembered that day clearly, kneeling in the chapel, telling Mother Superior I wanted to give my life to God. Back then, it had felt like the only path that made sense.

The man faltered, turning to me. “But… she’s our daughter. Surely it can be… changed? She’s still young.”

Mother Superior shook her head slowly. “Vows must be taken freely. If she leaves, it must be her choice.”

Silence.

Both of them turned to me, eyes shining with something I couldn’t quite name—hope, desperation, maybe even fear. My stomach twisted. I loved God. I loved the stillness of the chapel, the hymns, the quiet routines… or at least I thought I did. But now there was this other truth burning inside me: a twin sister. Parents who had crossed oceans to find me.

My hands trembled. “Mi have to pray,” I whispered. “Plis, jus’ one likle moment.” (please , just one little moment)

Mother Superior’s expression softened. “Go, child. The chapel is open.”

I rose from the wooden chair, knees weak, and stepped into the hallway, which smelled faintly of incense and old books. Outside, palm trees whispered in the wind.

I was supposed to pray… but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

I started toward my room when…

“Boo!”

Marita leapt out from behind a pillar, grinning like a maniac.

I yelped, clutching my chest. “Marita!”

She burst out laughing, doubling over, then straightened and smirked at me.

“Yu luk olsem yu jes luk spirit!” (You look like you just saw a ghost!)

I frowned and adjusted the hem of my plain blue cotton dress, the kind all the girls wore in the orphanage, with short sleeves and a white collar. “You make mi heart stop small!”

Marita only grinned. Her dark eyes sparkled. “Mais, you still alive, non?” (But you’re still alive, no?)

“You always changing language on me,” I muttered, fixing my hair back.

Her grin faded. She tilted her head, studying my face. “Eh, Leitana… somethin’ wrong? Why Mother Superior call yu? And who were those English people I saw go inside her office?”

I hesitated. My heart still heavy, my head spinning.

“They say they my parents. That I was stolen from them eighteen years ago. They come from America to find me.”

Marita’s jaw dropped. “Yu gat joke!” (You’re joking!) She smacked her forehead dramatically. “And? And? You go wit’ them, right?”

“No sure…”

Her gasp echoed down the hallway. “Leitana! You mad? You no go be like them ol’ farts in chapel all your life! Accept now!”

I frowned. “Marita! Don’t talk like that. Papa God no glad when you say them kind talk,”

She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Oui, oui, Dieu va me punir.” (Yes, yes, God will punish me.) She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “But seriously, my sister… you have a real family. You take it before you end up old and wrinkly, praying all day.”

Then I heard his voice.

“Come to me…”

The voice I could never mistake.

My Lord’s.