11 | Not A Psychic

***SIENNA***

Deep in my gut, I *felt* it. 
I felt the edgy twists and knots coiling my stomach and sink down with a rumble. 
“Come with me,” he said. It was an unqualified command, one he expected to be obeyed. He caught my elbow in a firm grip and hauled me in his wake. 
The man walked with smooth and confident strides as I literally jogged to keep up my pace. And given how dark the corridors and passages were, it was surprising how well he knew the place. 
Where the hell was he taking me? To his office chamber again or my dorm? 
With every step he took, my confusion intensified. Father Sullivan was taking me outside the residential halls and church building, moving towards the compound that doubled as a sizeable ground. And that was where he finally stopped and let go of his grip. 
“What are we doing here?”
He clasped his hands behind his back, squared shoulders stretched the dark blue V-neck t-shirt across his broad chest, and his eyes hardened.
“Five laps.” 
For a second, I wasn’t sure I heard it right. I paused and blinked. “I am sorry, what?”
“Take five laps around the ground. Once you do, you can go back to the dorm and sleep better.” 
I looked away in disbelief, letting out a husky laugh and shook my head. Slowly, my eyes found his. “So all that pretence of sympathy, ‘I believe you’ was just a tactic to drag me out here so you could give me punishment laps? Un-fucking-believable!”
His calm expression didn’t shift. “This is not a punishment.” 
“Really?” My face twisted into a snarl, jabbing a finger into his chest. “If this is not a punishment, then why the hell will a teacher drag a student out in the field and order to take laps at midnight?”
Father Sullivan stared down where my finger touched his chest as I quickly retrieved it. He, then, looked up to me with the same unreadable gaze and replied, “Endorphins.” 
“I am sorry, but I don’t speak the language called bullshit.” 
“Exercise has a neurochemical basis,” he lectured. “It stimulates endorphins and acts as natural mood lifters for the brain. It will help you sleep afterwards. A walk under the sky or getting some fresh air will do no good. You are stressed, so let it out.”
There was something hot about this man explaining biology while dominating me with his sheer commands. A part of my brain agreed with him; I knew about hormones and how fucked up mine were. But I didn’t want to admit it to him. So stubbornness paved the way.
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I would rather just pop a pill than get the runner’s high.”
“No pills—that’s my rule.” He laid it out. “If you want, I can set up a meeting with the student councillor.” 
“No shrinks. That’s my rule.”
He unclasped his hands and pointed to the open ground. “Then it’s settled. No pills or shrinks. Now, start the laps.” 
I scanned around, and suddenly, the enormity of the ground dawn on me. Even under the starlit sky and faint illumination, I could tell that five laps were too much for me. 
A few years ago, it would have been a cakewalk since I was a runner. I went to the gym regularly, was active in sports and even signed up for yoga classes. But for the past two years, everything in my life took a backseat. I stopped the activities, dropped out of school and wallowed in grief. Depression and insomnia became a part of my life. 
I met his uncompromising eyes and pulled a puppy face. “You are really serious about this?”
“Dead serious.”
Groaning, I dragged my feet to obey. I started off with long reluctant strides, but the sharp voice cracked like a whip into the inky night. “If I see you walking and not running, I will add on another lap.”
My body jumped to follow even before my mind registered the threat. Jeez! I wasn’t such a pussy before. By the completion of the second lap, I was panting and wheezing. Once I was done with the third, I came to a halt before him. My body bent at the waist, hands on the knees and face flushed with sweat.
“Oh…God. I… can’t…”
“God’s not going to help you sleep if you don’t finish the rest two. Go on,” he encouraged.
I finally looked up, straightened my back and still wheezed. “Aren’t you…godly people…have some connection to God or something? You know, talking to Jesus and…all that crazy stuff?” I asked.
Father Sullivan smiled—for the first time. It was brief and ghosting, and even in the darkness of the night, I did not miss it. “I am a priest, not a psychic.” 
“Yeah…yeah. It’s all…the same.” I grinned. 
“Laps. Now!”
The fourth and fifth was a real struggle. Every fibre of every muscle in my body was acutely aware of the numbing ache and exhaustion. When the last lap was done, I sank down on the ground before him. To his credit, he let me sit there, even joining me for a while. A heavy silence descended, and it was the most peaceful feeling I had felt in a long time. 
I could hear the roaring heartbeats in my ears, and all the other thoughts evaporated. I felt…serene. Maybe he was right. This was not a punishment because I felt liberating.  
“C’mon, let’s get you back to the dorm now,” he said, rising up. 
I didn’t object when he offered both his hands and pulled me off the ground, and then clasped my biceps to escort me back. 
I walked like my limbs did not belong to me and each step of the staircase was a negotiation rather than a necessity. Everything hurts so bad. I winced to cross the floor, even with his help and finally stopped near the door. 
“Sienna.” His voice was barely a whisper. “If you ever need help with anything, reach out to me.”
I slowly nodded and disappeared into the dorm room while the sounds of his retreating steps faded into the hallway.
Since the day my life turned upside down, no one has truly reached out for help. Not a single friend, family or relative. And yet, this cruel man was the first one to offer his unconditional help. 
*God works in mysterious ways.* 
I smiled. But the very next step I took reminded me how worn out I was. A quick shower later, when I fell back on the bed, I was asleep within seconds.