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My four suitcases sit on my perfectly made bed, the four poster made of cherry wood polished so that it reflects back everything in the room. It's dark. The walls painted a burgundy red, the curtains blocking out all light from the large window. It's laughable how starkly and completely different this room is from my one back home, or even my room at the Belshire. The designer must have been severely depressed when decorating these rooms. I can only imagine what the others down the hall may look like. Probably about the same.
Most rooms, or dorms, or whatever you want to call this place were undecorated, left open to the resident and how they would like their room to look. Not St. Cillene. This place leaves no room for creative individualism, no room for anything less than perfect. Which makes sense, seeing as how this place is pumping out Noble Peace Prize winners and future politicians faster than rabbits in the spring. My father didn't even bother to drive me here himself, barely even looked up from his morning paper and coffee, only nodding and saying "Good luck."
Yeah. Thanks, really helps.
Instead, his assistant was assigned the oh so difficult job to haul me here, drop me off, and haul his sorry ass back. I don't know why I expected anything more than what I got. Blue and red lights cascade over the wooden floor, and I look once more to that giant window, a small stained glass piece sits above it. I'm sure the moon-faced angel was supposed to be comforting a century ago, but now its eyes and facial features just look faded, droopy, like all of the watching over troubled teenagers has done a toll on its beautiful exterior.
A small chill makes its way over my arms. I shiver and look around, but it's only me and the tired angel.
Loud talking and the click of fancy boots echo down the long, old hallway and funnels in through my door. A group of girls, no doubt, meeting up with each other after the long summer holiday. I guess the summer wasn't that long to any of the people here, seeing as how immortal they all made themselves out to be. All arrogant, all picking up life as if it were an apple, taking a bite, and throwing it at the next person to annoy them. It was a luxury I had never gotten. Had I grown up with the man who sent me here, I can only imagine how I would act now. Probably walking down a hallway with a group like those girls.
I open my first suitcase and begin unpacking. Though, I don't know why my dad had suggested I bring any of this when I am just going to be wearing a uniform every day. Maybe for the weekends, or when I'm feeling a little rebellious.
Always. I'm always feeling a little rebellious.
But never will I act on it.
At least that part was bred into me right.
Everything about this place feels claustrophobic, tight and stuffy. I guess I'll have to deal with that, living here for the rest of the school year. I sigh and hang up a long, light pink dress. It looks otherworldly in the dark room like there isn't supposed to be anything bright, happy, here. I keep expecting another girl to walk in and claim the almost identical bed across the room from mine, but so far, no one has walked in but me. I would expect this place to be bustling with activity, parents saying farewell to their children and kids getting their schedule and meeting back up with friends. But no, just a few people passing by every now and then.
