this was one of my fav chapters to write btw
xiv. flames
"and there's nothing like a m a d w o m a n
what a shame she w e n t m a d
no one likes a m a d w o m a n
you made her like that"
(taylor swift).
>>>
gianna
Not everyone who is toxic wants to be.
Not everyone who is polite wants to be.
Not everyone who leaves wants to leave.
Not everyone who stays wants to stay.
Not everyone who is popular wants to be popular, and not everyone who is quiet wants to be.
It is a fickle thing, studying humans. I know when I bare my teeth and snap at the hand that feeds me, it isn't necessarily because I want to.
I know when I am the very definition of toxic, I don't necessarily mean it.
But I do at the same time.
Does that make sense?
I guess I don't really know if I'm a good person or not. I wonder, if I hadn't gone what I've gone through, if I would still be so cruel?
How much of it is me, and how much of it is the trauma?
This is what me and Tori talk about as I get ready for my day.
She wonders the same about herself. If she was only such a cold person because of her circumstances, or if she was born that way.
"I guess at the end of the day, there's no use wondering about it Tori," I finally conclude, sighing as I sit back in my chair, taking a glance at the girl in the mirror.
She frowns, her cherry red lips pulling downwards. "For the fifty millionth time, it's Tara."
I wave a hand and go back to my makeup. "Whatever, Terri."
I hear her scoff, but a smile amused makes its way to her face.
She looks stunning, only a mere reflection in the mirror. Her rich coffee brown hair falls down her slender shoulders in ringlets, her emerald eyes watching me curiously, her porcelain skin perfect- I wonder what her skin care routine is?
"So the seance-" She begins and I scowl, taking my mascara up with ferocity and sweeping the makeup onto my lashes.
"Nothing happened." I say but my voice and put-off demeanor says differently.
"Mr. Thompson," She says, "Right? You said this girl said her revenge was for Mr. Thompson."
"Mhmm," I hum, trying to focus on not getting the mascara on my eyelids.
I'm also trying to avoid the subject. But the bitch doesn't get the hint.
"I could talk to the other girls here, see who else has a grudge against Mr. Thompson." She says and I look up.
"How many others of you are there?" I ask curiously.
She shrugs, teeth biting gently into the red plastic ring on her finger. "You mean ghosts?"
YOU ARE READING
twisted beautiful things
Bí ẩn / Giật gânThe leaves hadn't even turned brown before the first suicide of the year. At St. Briar's University, the stakes are so high that at least one suicide is expected. In a world full of privilege and royalty, poison and snakes, students are expected to...
