Warrior Nun Season 3

1 Corinthians 15:33

"Do not be misled: 'Bad company corrupts good character.'"

Beatrice hadn't cried in front of anyone since she was 10 years old. When her parents told her they were sending her away, she begged them with tears not to make her go. Since then, she cried only in silence. Alone. Privately.

And so it makes sense, for all her firsts, the first time she cried in front of someone since that day was Ava. She had read from the Warrior Nun journal the sister's entry who had been imprisoned by Nazis for being gay. And as Beatrice read about the warrior destroying those who wished her dead for who she truly was, she cried. She cried for the past sisters who felt ashamed for who they loved, and who didn't let themselves love again. And she cried for herself, who she wouldn't let herself love.

Beatrice had taken a deep breath, willing the tears to stop falling, when Ava had spoken.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Beatrice shook her head, trying to give an easy chuckle to deflect but it came out a gulp. "Nothing. It's fine. I..."

"A badass story of a Warrior Nun tapping into her rage making you cry is nothing?" Ava said it with a confused smile, aloof.

Beatrice envied her naivety. "Your ignorance is really a downer sometimes."

"Hey!" She said it softly, not offended but more surprised. "What... What's going on?"

"As usual, you've managed to miss the entire point. Sister Melanie tapped into something elemental in her soul, and it amplified the Halo's energy. If you wanna pass through 20 feet of stone, you need to break through your own personal pain."

"Okay, but why are you so mad at me?"

Beatrice flinched at that, taken back by Ava's words. She never wanted to be mad at Ava. She hadn't realized she'd gotten away from herself.

"I'm not mad at you. I... I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

Beatrice looked up at her, melting at Ava apologizing for her hurt feelings. She smiled softly, seeing how concerned she looked. "It's not you. It was everyone but you. My whole life, people have tried to make me into something I'm not. To make me 'normal', or at least 'acceptable'. I became skilled at so many things just so I would still have value, despite my flaws, or what I'd been taught was a flaw." She chuckles dryly, which is hard through the tears. "Of course, I tried to fit in. But when you're punished just for being different, you begin to hate what you are. And what you love." She looked to Ava, seeing tears in her eyes. "What should make you happy," she continued, "only brings you pain. Pain is what made me a Sister Warrior."

There was a silence then, it stretched the weight of her words.

And then, quietly, Ava said, "Don't hate what you are. What you are is beautiful."

Beatrice had looked up at her, a grateful and relieved smile on her face for telling the truth, for listening. For meeting her not with resistance and change, but acceptance. She had never experienced that before. Telling her past, and being praised for it. It was always met with, You've done the right thing, then. Taking the vows. Going into conversion. Becoming disciplined. Refraining. Never this. Never with open arms and security.

"I'm sorry for your pain," Ava finished.

Beatrice shook her head, unraveled. "Don't be. Because now we get to tap into yours."

She didn't think their pain was going to be something on the same plane. As she was working with Ava on moving through the cement, she didn't know what her pain would be. Maybe something frivolous, childish, because Ava had never really gotten the chance to grow up. But the truth... the truth was not what Beatrice had thought.