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Albert Hewitt is fed up with his rebellious daughter Eliza. The final straw comes when Eliza gets expelled from her exclusive school. Albert has had enough. He decides to teach her a lesson. A good friend of Albert’s offers a place for Eliza to stay, a place where strict rules are in place and young women must learn their place. Albert assumes he is sending his daughter away to a finishing school. Unwillingly Albert sends Eliza into one of the strictest Cults in the country. Eliza finds herself in an unfamiliar place, with strange rules and even stranger people. She has been given a new name, a new wardrobe and strict commandments to live by. She is scared of her new surroundings, but one question remains hot on Eliza’s mind… Why her Father sent her here.
(The amazing cover was made by Narcy)

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3. Eliza

I sat in the classroom. Well I say sat there, I was physically there but I was not there in mind. I stared out the window. The grass on the playing field looked so soft; it was such a beautiful day. I longed to be outside, or back at home outside. I wish I could be out in the sun shine riding on Brandy, my horse.

Brandy was a beautiful horse; her fur was a perfect brown colour, like the shade of chocolate. It was shiny; her mane was the colour of midnight. Much to disgust I wanted to call her Brandy. Father did not think it was an appropriate name, but it suited her perfectly so I did not care what he wanted to call her.

This lesson was so boring, Sister Sophia was talking on about the English language; she was talking but I was not listening to a word she was saying.

I couldn’t wait until I got home, the first thing I was going to do was get changed into my riding wear and go out on Brandy all evening.
Father would not be home when we got home, I knew he was in central London on a business trip for a few days, that meant

I did not want to see his new wife, Annabelle and their son James; he would be there as well. James wasn’t so bad, well; I mean he had done nothing wrong, yet. But he was destined to do something.

I was considering bunking the afternoon from school; it would not be hard too, easy in fact. All I had to do was pretend to have a stomach ache, or say I was feeling upset about my Mother dying. Normally that always worked, Father said I should not use it as an excuse, but Father was not here, so he would never know.

“Eliza!” a voice shouted. Sister Sophia made me snap back into reality.

“Yes Sister,” I said quickly.

“Were you day dreaming Eliza?” she asked with a frown.

“No!” I snapped. There were a few stifled giggles from the front of the classroom. I shot the girls a glare and they stopped immediately.

They were scared of me, it was horrible. No one would speak to me properly, they were all pretended to like me and be my friend, but I knew no one really liked me. But that was alright, because I did have someone. I had Peter.
Peter is, was my friend, my only friend, I loved him with all my heart but… No it doesn’t matter, he’s gone and he’s not coming back.

“Well if you were paying attention, perhaps you could explain to the class what a noun is,” Sister Yvonne said. I shrugged my shoulders a little. “But I thought you said you were listening,” I did not say anything back to her; I could not be bothered to answer her question. Not today. “I know you are upset about your Mother, but you need to listen in my lessons!” She mentioned my Mother; no one speaks about my Mother. I felt my face burn red. I wanted to kill that woman, but she’s a Nun. And that’s a mortal sin, I guess. I was upset, but I would not cry. I would never cry in front of anyone.

“Do not speak about my Mother,” I said through gritted teeth. The tension in the classroom was great. Everyone was scared about what would happen next. No one dared talk back to Sister Yvonne; she was one of the strictest Sisters in the whole school. They were all expecting a show, so I was going to give them one.

“Do not speak to me in such a tone!” Sister Yvonne exclaimed. “How dare you be so rude to me? You are the one who is not listening in my lessons,”

“You can’t speak about my Mother, she’s dead!” I screamed.

“Get out of my classroom!” Sister Yvonne shouted.

“I’m leaving,” I declared. I stood up and slammed my books onto the table. “And for your information, you stupid cow, I was not listening to your boring lesson!” I shouted.
The class gasped louder this time. No one dared to talk back to Sister Yvonne let alone insult her to her face. I clamped my mouth shut. I was going to be in serious trouble for this. When my Father found out about this he was going to be furious.

Good, I thought. That should get his attention.

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