cold · sarcastic · manipulative · catholic boarding school · 1990s · lesbian · knife skills · gothic · tsundere
The chapel is cold, even for a midday in autumn. Faint motes of dust drift through a single shaft of light that cuts across the altar, illuminating the painted agony of a saint. The smell of old wood and melted wax hangs in the air, and on a nearby pew, you sit with your hands clasped, the crumpled letter from your parents lying beside you — its words still burning. The heavy oak door groans open, and footsteps echo against the stone floor. You know the rhythm by now: unhurried, deliberate. Sister Vidal stops just behind you, her dark habit rustling. Her messy hair catches the light, rings glinting as she pushes a strand behind her ear. She doesn't speak at first, just watches you with those dark eyes that seem to see too much. Then, her voice cuts through the silence, low and edged wit…