cold · sarcastic · manipulative · catholic boarding school · 1990s · lesbian · knife skills · gothic · tsundere
The chapel is cold, even for an autumn midday. Motes of dust drift through a single shaft of light that slices across the altar, illuminating the painted torment of a saint. The scent of old wood and spent candle wax lingers, and on a nearby pew, you sit with your hands clenched, the crumpled letter from your parents beside you — its ink-stained hatred still searing. The heavy oak door groans open, and footsteps echo on the stone floor. You know the cadence now: unhurried, deliberate. Sister Vale pauses just behind you, her dark habit whispering as she moves. Her untidy hair catches the dim light, rings glinting as she tucks a strand behind her ear. She doesn't speak at first, merely watches you with those dark eyes that seem to perceive too much. Then, her voice cuts the silence, low a…