Sins of the Past

Chapter 1

Diana.

It feels like my sixth sense has kicked in. I rush to the doors marked with the fancy golden lettering, "Women's Restroom." The overwhelming opulence of this college makes me want to throw up.

By the enormous mirror, adorned with black swirls that resemble branches, stands a perfect blonde. Truly perfect. She glances at me through the mirror as she touches up her lips. I smile awkwardly, biting my own. Are people like this even real? Maybe I should start wearing makeup too, so I won't look like a beast among actual goddesses.

"Hi," I say, unable to bear the contempt in her gaze.

"Who are you? I've never seen you before."

"Not surprising. The college is big, and I'm just one of a thousand students."

"I asked who you are. I know everyone here—even that new girl with heterochromia. But you... I really don't recognize."

She's too intimidating, and the way she carries herself is almost threatening. I feel uneasy being alone with her.

"Diana... and you?"

"Are you serious?" She scoffs as if I said something ridiculous, then lets that scorn return to her face. "Sylvia. You won't survive a day here if you're scared of everyone."

"Who should I be scared of?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Me. But don't worry, I've decided to make you my friend."

Her? Making me her friend? Oh God. I thought she was going to kill me—or maybe just devour me with that piercing stare.

"So, you've seen Chiara Berardi?"

"I haven't seen her, but I've heard of her. And I've also heard she has a younger sister here."

She must mean Anita. I could mention that Chiara doesn't have a father; she probably doesn't know that. I bet she'd find it interesting. Sylvia hands me her lipstick, then puckers her lips to fix an invisible flaw on her cheek.

"You can use it for your lips. Strange that you don't wear lipstick with lips like those."

Her lips are almost the same as mine. Mine might actually be fuller. But unlike me, she has high cheekbones, while I still have soft, rounded cheeks. We're similar in figure, though—except my hips seem wider, while her chest is fuller. I take the lipstick from her hand and apply it. The texture is pleasant, like the ones I used during high school parties.

"Oh."

"It suits you. Keep it."

"Thanks?"

"You've got a cute accent."

This is the first time someone's commented on my accent—and the first time it's been called cute. Coming from her, it feels good. God, I feel like a queen right now, even though I hate this kind of thing.

No, not hate.

I despise it, if I'm being honest.

"What year are you?"

"Third, class A," I answer, slipping the lipstick into my bag.

"Perfect. Then come with me."

And I follow, matching her pace. Everything here feels too perfect. This place suits my sister more than me. Sylvia leads me through a garden on our way to the second tower. On a bench to our right, a couple is kissing, and I quickly avert my gaze, not wanting to intrude. Sylvia snorts, also looking their way. Maybe he's her ex, or perhaps that girl has done something to cross her. Either way, I'll remember them so I can give them the same look in the future.