The list of sinners

...Celia...

When I saw the sun rise, my heart felt calmer. I hadn't slept well at all and still remembered the hours when I had woken up with the idea that someone would enter through the window at any moment and kill me. I slapped my face to dispel my idiotic paranoia. I got up from the bed and looked out the window. The house opposite seemed calm, unlike last night when my heart had raced.

Terrifying things tend to happen at night, and during the day, they hide beneath the liveliness of daylight. Despite my shattered nerves and pronounced lack of sleep, I encouraged myself to get up and get ready. The alarm still wanted attention, partly because I had woken up too early. I made my bed and occasionally sneakily glanced out the window.

Since I saw that silhouette, my mind had started playing tricks, from putting on my clothes while listening for noises to imagining shadows moving around the house. I hoped this would be the last thing to happen to me. I was afraid it might completely distract me from my studies. After my morning routine and getting dressed, I made a sandwich and started eating.

I threw a notebook and a pen in my backpack. I still didn't know how the university worked, but in my mind, the high school format lingered. Before leaving, I checked for anything left on and, most importantly, if the windows were closed. As I descended the stairs, I encountered Mr. Rodger standing in front of his door. In a way, it seemed like he was waiting for me.

"Good morning, Mr. Rodger."

"Good morning, Celia."

"Is there anything wrong?"

"No, just the start of your university."

"Ah, I understand," I said.

"I wanted to wish you a good day today."

"Thank you from the heart, Mr. Rodger."

I saw Mr. Rodger with a completely different eye. I had begun to see him with the same eye that saw me. His care and kindness disrupted the landlord-tenant relationship.

"Goodbye, Mr. Rodger, have a good day."

"Likewise."

My phone rang as I parted ways with Mr. Rodger.

"Good morning, dad."

"Good morning, my daughter of the great day."

"Oh dad, please."

"I just want to wish you a good day, my angel," he says.

"Thank you, dad," I replied with a slightly trembling voice. "You won't disappoint me."

I found the university through GPS. An added help was the encounter with teenagers who hung their bags on one shoulder. The journey took about fifteen minutes. Luckily, it wasn't far, unlike high school, which I had to reach by bus. The building in front of me was gigantic. Looking at it, it gave the impression of a castle in England, based on its architecture.

Its large courtyard had the capacity to accommodate the entire student population. In the air, there was a scent of perfume, hair gel, makeup, and the smell of gasoline from cars that occasionally appeared and sped away. There were students in groups, indicating a social hierarchy of several years; there were social types who quickly made friends, and there were those like me who stood alone. Indeed, high school wasn't the golden period of my life. I had experienced bullying even in elementary school, but then it was softer, whereas high school was a completely different level. I was not fully aware that echoes of the past still had the power to resurface.

"It's Celia... It's that strange girl. Red-haired Celia. If you were alive in the Middle Ages, they would have burned you at the stake because witches had red hair. She has no blood. She's completely white. Look at how she fidgets. She can't even stand on her feet. She could die at any moment. Look... she's not breathing... she's not breathing..."

Lost in thoughts of the past, I hadn't noticed I was falling behind. Students were entering the building, and I was still standing there like a dried tree, listening to the voice of the past. I ran into the building to find the rest of the class. Inside, there was little movement, and I wasn't sure if they were students or not.

I saw a notice board announcing the schedule. I took a picture and went in search of room A3. Thanks to the labels at the top of the rooms, I found it easily without any incidents.

I saw the students inside chatting and laughing with each other. I hesitated before entering. I felt truly awkward. I clutched my arm with my hand and, without lingering in front of the classroom any longer, I sat in a seat, as I always did, reserving a cold spot in the corner, whether there were two or more chairs.