Life Before
She’s always been an over-achiever, perhaps due to her family background or the genetics passed on to her but it was most likely in hopes of her parents finally verbalising their pride in their only daughter. Beatrice was not sure either but she just knew that she always wanted to do well, even at a young age. She learnt her native language from her parents, as well as French and Italian. She did ballet and played the violin. She also swam for sport in school. In all those, Beatrice excelled.
When she did well for tests or exams, Beatrice’s father would sometimes take her for ice-cream or spend an hour more of his time with her as a reward. Her mother was less expressive though, she would praise her occasionally with a pat on the head or a smile while saying “That’s good, Beatrice.”. It was never more. Beatrice didn't grow up with plenty of hugs and kisses but it never really bothered her, she just wanted to make them proud.
Beatrice experienced quite a handful of things at a young age given her family’s status and wealth. She got to travel around more frequently compared to her peers; seeing more of the world and being exposed to various global issues, she developed a care for those who did not have a voice, those who were marginalized. Despite being surrounded by people with conservative mindsets and lifestyles, Beatrice’s sensitivity to what goes on beyond the doors of her home fuelled her desire to give the oppressed a voice.
By the time she was twelve years old, Beatrice often got into arguments with her mother because of her liberated perceptions. She was adamant in speaking her mind and going against the norms that she was taught to live by.
“That’s wrong, Beatrice.”
“That’s unacceptable, Beatrice.”
“We did not raise you that way, Beatrice”
She heard those phrases countless times that as she became a teenager, she had learnt to keep her mouth shut, trying her best to be acceptable in the eyes of her parents. There are times, however, when she would slip up and express her anger at the dinner table or in the car regarding the inequality she had watched from the news earlier. It wasn’t shocking that her father would use her young age to warrant her “ignorance” or her mother’s disappointment with how gullible she was to believe everything she heard.
As Beatrice grew older, it seemed as though all the knowledge she had beyond her school syllabus were flawed. The bitterness and rage that burnt inside of her for the injustice that millions go through remained as they were, feelings. She chose not to talk about such important or heavy subjects anymore in fear of being mocked or casted out. Beatrice was left with little confidence in herself. To grow up being perpetually told that your way of thinking was flawed by the people who were supposed to support and understand you the most, who really could blame her? She tried to fit in, tried making friends and she did, but she always, always felt the need to be conscious and wary of the things she shared with them. To say the least, she had friends but she never felt at ease.
This, however, changed at 14 years old during the second half of her school year. There was a new transfer pupil who was from the other side of the country. She was assigned the seat next to Beatrice in Math class and for a reason neither of them were unsure of, they got along exceptionally well. They walked to their classes together and sat with each other during lunch every chance they got. They realised they had plenty in common, they both liked dancing -- Beatrice shared with her that she had been learning ballet since the age of 6 -- they loved animals and listening to pop music. Beatrice, after so long, felt comfortable with her new friend. She was liberated and expressed her views so passionately with Beatrice that she was constantly in awe. She wondered if her friend’s parents had also told her that her thoughts were flawed too.
The two girls spent so much time with each other and perhaps it was the feeling of being understood that made Beatrice kiss her friend’s cheek. It was quick, almost impetuous but the other girl didn’t seem to mind. Even when Beatrice looked like a deer in the headlights after her spontaneous gesture, her friend reassured her that it was normal, her friends from her old school did it all the time. It happened more from time to time when they were alone; mostly when either of them got over-excited about a topic that they’d shared with each other or when they figured out how to solve a math question that they had been struggling with for awhile.
Until one day, it wasn't just on the cheek anymore, it happened as they walked from school to the bus stop. After talking about how frustrated Beatrice became with one of her teachers who refused to take a second look at her work, she felt her friend cup her face and give her a kiss on her lips. Beatrice was stunned by this but her friend just laughed, “You were so adorable!”. A blush formed on Beatrice’s cheek and for the rest of the day until she tucked herself to bed that night, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made her stomach flutter and her heart felt warm. It happened again. And again. And again, for weeks. Beatrice wasn’t sure what those kisses meant or if she was in a relationship, all she knew was she liked them and she didn’t want to stop.
Of course, Beatrice was foolish to think that she was always going to feel that way. That she would feel happy and wanted and loved. One day, as she and her friend discussed their assignment in her bedroom, Beatrice felt a hand on her waist, pulling her closer then feeling a pair of lips crash onto hers. She wasn’t strong enough to resist the desire she felt so gave in. Beatrice kissed her back with the same amount of energy. What happened next she will never forget. The door swung open and before realisation hit her, her mother’s hand grabbed her violently away from her friend.
The next moments were a blur but that day was the last she saw of her friend or her school. She didn’t remember getting yelled at or getting hit by her parents that night but what she remembered was falling asleep on a pillow soaked with her own tears. The next day, as she sheepishly went down to the dining area, all ready to go to school, her father muttered for heer to return to her room without even glancing at his daughter. Surely she heard it wrongly so she walked closer to the table but after her third step, “You’re not going back to that school. Stay in your room and pack your bags, we’re leaving for Switzerland tomorrow.” was what her mother declared, her voice stern and sure. Beatrice stood there for a minute, trying to comprehend her mother’s words. She examined both her parents and realised that it was really happening. She ran to her room, dropping her backpack as soon as the door closed and sobbed. She sobbed and sobbed until her eyes felt like it couldn’t produce anymore tears. She layed in bed, feeling empty yet crushed, Beatrice stayed in that position until the sky started turning dark again.
It was gloomy and all stones. There were nuns. Her mother had dropped her off at a catholic boarding school. She vaguely remembered being toured around by an older girl with an accent but other than being shown which of the three beds was hers in the small room, Beatrice knows nothing and knows nobody.
The next two years flew by quickly for Beatrice. She had kept herself busy at all times with anything she could possibly do. She excelled in her studies and other activities. She had taken several classes each semester break just so that she wouldn’t have to go back to London, although time has passed, the ache from being sent away and being unwanted were still raw. Aikido, learning Latin, cooking classes, meditation. Literally anything the school offered, she would sign up for. During lunch, she would bury her nose in the library or study ahead of the schedule. She also learnt to read the Bible and it became one of her favourite things to do.
The nuns would always share their faith and how loved they felt by God with the blessings he provided them. Beatrice was captivated by the promise and love that the Bible had spoken about, giving her a sense of longing for it as well. Beatrice started praying in her fourth month at the boarding school and continued to do so every single day. By her eighth month in boarding school she had finished reading the bible, fascinated by the stories. When her heart felt downcasted, she would pray and try to unburden her thoughts unto God. She had so much faith in Him despite being unable to actually see Him or hear Him. It felt good to know that she was loved and accepted even when she couldn’t do so herself.
Following graduation, she had decided to take her vows as a nun, to dedicate her life to the church and be a servant of God. She continued learning new skills and honing the ones she already had for another two years before she had gained the attention of the OCS. Shotgun Mary was the first to notice Beatrice. Along with a group of Sister Warriors, Mary, had been chasing demons along an alley near the convent in Switzerland that Beatrice was assigned at. Beatrice caught Mary’s eye when she protected a young boy from being attacked by a possessed man nearly twice her size. Beatrice ensured that she was able to subdue the man without hurting him excessively using various martial arts techniques she had learnt before. Mary quickly pulled Beatrice aside while other Sister Warriors performed an exorcism on the poor man.
Within three weeks of their first encounter, Beatrice received a letter of her reassignment to the OCS with Mary’s number written at the end of the page to contact her if she “needed anything”. Surprised with this sudden news, Beatrice dialed the number and spoke with Mary on the phone. Mary tried to explain to the younger woman what the OCS was about without indulging into too much detail over the phone in order to prevent Beatrice from thinking that it was all a joke. Who would believe if they were told that there were demons lurking around the earth and that nuns, out of all people, were hunting them?
Beatrice wasn’t sure what led her to accept the recruitment, but she did. Maybe it was the fact that someone had taken interest in her, someone recognized her abilities, someone wanted her. Upon her arrival at the OCS, she was greeted by Mary outside the church and once she entered, it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Training mats, martial arts dummy and target boards were scattered all over the place. She was in awe, Beatrice literally stopped in her tracks. She was greeted by other sisters, including Shannon and Lillith. Mary and Shannon had stayed with her the whole time while Father Vincent introduced what the OCS was about. Once everything had been explained to her, Beatrice was still skeptical but more than that, she believed the Father’s words.
In OCS she found a purpose, she found friends, sisters. After years of being alone and keeping to herself, Beatrice found a home. She trained well with the sisters and learnt new things from her seniors. She started going on missions after a couple of months of training and it was exhilarating, she felt useful and efficient which warranted praises from her sisters. Despite the risk and chaos of the job, Beatrice enjoyed it very much and was grateful to be called to do something for the good and safety of the humankind. In spite of that, Beatrice never wallowed in pride, she prayed every single time before she went on a mission for God to guide her and watch over, making known to her the path of life. Beatrice made sure that she emphasised on maintaining trust in God above whenever she trained younger recruits.
Beatrice made good friends with the other Sister Warriors, knowing that they always had each others’ backs during missions. She became particularly close to Sisters Shannon, Lilith and Camila -- who had joined later than she did and had been training under her guidance -- as well as Mary. Beatrice felt comfortable enough with them to be able to share a few stories of her past with them as well as physical touches, mostly with Camila whomst she saw as a younger sister. In spite of that, Beatrice never let her guard down, the walls she had built around herself still formidable. That, just like everything in life does, changed as well on the night that they lost Sister Shannon, her friend, her sister, her mentor and the Halo Bearer.