Page 7

"Then how about I make it harder," I say right before I jump again, taking advantage of her diverted attention to snatch the book.

She reacts a second too late, but as my hand moves with the book, her fingers catch half of it, pulling backwards until I hear a big rip.

We both stumble back, each holding half of the book.

Her expression is one of satisfaction, while mine is one of desolation.

My book…

I don't react for a good second. Not until Cressida continues her vile game by taking her half and ripping it further into shreds, the words I'd worshiped until a moment ago falling on the ground.

I feel a knot forming in my throat as I helplessly watch her stomp all over my prized possession.

Suddenly, all the years of torment, both mental and physical, flash themselves before my eyes. I remember how she'd pushed me around, hit me and cut my hair. How I still bear the scars of everything she's done to me and how I'd almost died at our last confrontation in this very place.

And suddenly, I'm done.

The torn half of the book in my hand falls to the floor with a thud. Not caring about anything anymore, I just pounce on her, my hands balled into fists as I take her unawares.

Her mouth forms an o just as my punch lands in her stomach, and she stumbles slightly backward. A harsh intake of breath and she's throwing punches of her own, aiming for my face.

It hurts when she lands a hit, but I don't mind it. I just continue, pushing her to the floor as we tangle on the cold marble, hands in each other's hair.

We roll around until I'm on top of her, my fists aiming for her face.

"No more!" I rasp, a rage unlike any other coming over me. "I won't be your punching bag anymore," I say as I continue to pummel at her.

Ironic that I'm treating her as my own punching bag, but after everything she's done to me, it's the least I can do.

Tears are falling down my face as I keep on hitting, her gasps of pain only fueling my rage.

One second of delay, though, and she has me flipped around, hitting me as well.

I close my eyes, wincing at the pain but struggling to get her off me. Mustering all the strength I can, I focus all of it in my legs. Bending them toward me, I take a deep breath and I push with all my might, shoving her to the side.

She's off me, her back hitting the hard coffin, her head banging on a corner.

I breathe heavily as I take a moment to get myself together, the strain from the fight getting to me.

But a second passes, then two, and I realize Cressida is not moving at all.

I turn my head around, and I'm greeted by Cressida's face, her unblinking eyes wide open. Blood is pooling at the side of her head where she'd made contact with the coffin.

"What…" I whisper to myself as I scramble to my feet, my entire body aching with pain.

I take a step forward, letting my hand move across her body, looking for some sign of life.

Searching for her pulse line, I find none.

She's… dead.

Open-mouthed, I stare at Cressida's dead body. A girl I 'd killed. I look in wonder at her unmoving self and I feel… nothing.

No sadness, no regret, no remorse.

Just a deep sense of relief.

She's gone.

But what does that say about me?

I killed someone. Granted, it was someone who's tortured me my entire life, but I couldn't muster any type of regret.

What's wrong with me?

But as I stare at her, more and more, laughter starts bubbling inside of me. It starts slow. My lips curl up in a smirk as I look at her lifeless body, and then it erupts from deep within me. I can't even stop as I hold on to my stomach, still hurting from her punches. I just laugh.

She's dead.

Finally.

I take a while to compose myself, all the glee at seeing the person I'd hated for years get what she deserved spilling over. But as I calm down from my outburst, I realize I need to make sure she's not found.

For a second, my thoughts turn to what might happen should her body be discovered. I'd probably be sent to prison.

Is jail that different from this place?

For once, I don't care about the consequences of my actions. Either she's found, and I go to prison, or she's not found and the world willsimply not miss her.

I certainly will not.

My resolve is firm, I only need to get rid of her body… As my eyes rove around the room, I have just the place.

After all, hadn't she wanted for me to die locked inside a cold coffin? Fitting that she'd be the one spending an eternity in that exact place.

My lips twitch as the irony sinks in. Maybe it's a twisted game of fate, but at least there's some type of justice in the world.

And I know I will sleep better at night knowing she's forever out of my life.

Getting to work, I prop the lid of the coffin open, the exertion already enough to make me sweat.

After, I use my hands to drag her body into an upright position, finding it difficult to maneuver her because of her size.

It takes me three tries to get her on level with the coffin, and I manage to hold her long enough to push her into the confined space, smearing blood from her head wound all over the floor and the outside of the coffin.

She drops inside with a thud, and I take a deep breath as I look upon her breathless body—those eyes that are still wide open.

It should be abnormal… staring into the face of death so directly and so casually. But I find that after my own brushes with death, I'm unnaturally immune to it.

Assured that Cressida's body fits in the enclosed space, I get to cleaning the floor. Since I don't have anything else to wipe the blood off with, I reluctantly settle on the torn pages of my book.

But it's just my luck that instead of cleaning the blood, they are only smearing it more. I roll my eyes, annoyed, until another idea pops into my head.

Moving back to the coffin, I reach inside and feel for any material. First, I check the previous occupant of the coffin, but since the material of the habit is so old and brittle, I fear I may make an even bigger mess. With a sigh, I turn to Cressida's body, tearing some cloth from her uniform.

Then, I crouch once more on the floor and start wiping. The material is a good absorbent, and soon the white marble floor is squeaky clean. I turn to the outside of the coffin, and I wipe the walls too, ensuring no trace of blood is left anywhere .

When I'm finally done with that, I move to the other side to push the lid of the coffin shut.

"Drat it," I mutter as I fix my feet on the floor, the slippery marble not helping with my exertion. I move around a little so my heels are against the wall, my hands on the lid. Then, pushing with all my strength, I eventually see it moving.

When that is done, I lift my hand up, swiping some sweat off my brow and thinking how to proceed next.

I check the latch on the coffin, ensuring everything is locked in place.

This is it… I guess.

My stomach is still paining me as I go back to the dorm, choosing to stealthily head to the shower area and wash some of the blood spatters off my uniform.

Claudia is still in class, so there's only Lina inside the room, her brows pinched together as she focuses on sewing an old dress.

"Oh, Sisi." She looks up, surprised to see me. I give her a quick smile and dash out of the room before she can ask more questions.

The bathroom is made up of communal showers that everyone on the floor shares. Heading inside, I deposit my clean clothes on the sink and get in the shower.

Quickly tugging my uniform dress off my body, I place it directly under the water stream. Taking a piece of soap, I rub at the stained areas, relieved to see that the red turns into a yellowy color. The more I rub, the more that fades, too.

When my clothes are done, I move under the shower, hoping the warm water would help the continuing stomach pains.

Holding on to my midriff, I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. But as I continue to wash my body, my hand moving between my legs, I can't help but gasp out loud at the sight of blood.

So much blood.

And it's pouring out of me.

"Good Lord," I mutter, staring intently at the red coating my hand, convinced this is a sign. "I'm cursed… that must be it," I say out loud.

For the first time, panic starts taking hold of me. Because no matter how much I wash myself, blood keeps pouring out of me.

This is it… the physical evidence of my sin.

There can be no other explanation. I'm being punished for taking another life, and nothing is more fitting than blood slowly coming out of my own body—until I'm bled dry.

My legs buckle and I drop to the ground, my back against the wall, water still falling on top of me. As it washes over my body, it turns a muddy color, mingling with my blood in a fitting combination.

Everything I touch is cursed.

The words I'd heard so many times from the nuns and other sisters are finally starting to make sense.

"Sisi?" Catalina's voice interrupts my musings, and I'm suddenly afraid she's going to find out what I've done.

I may not care about other people, but I do care about her opinion. I don't want her to be disappointed in me.

Before I can make something up for her to leave me alone, she opens the door to the stall, finding me huddled in a corner, bloodied water pooling at my feet.

"Sisi," she exclaims, horror in her voice. "What happened?"

I look up, into her eyes, and I say the only thing that I can think of.

"It won't stop… the blood."

Lina takes one good look at me and sighs, "Sisi…"

Helping me up and out of the shower, she leaves the bathroom briefly, returning with a pad. After I'm dressed and my uniform’s been hung out to dry, she takes me back to our room to have a talk.

"It's normal." She explains that nothing is wrong, that I just got my period.

"Period?" I repeat, confused.

Lina purses her lips. "When a woman matures, she starts her monthly bleeding. It's a sign that you're now…" She trails off, a blush appearing on her face, "Ready to have children."

"I am?" My eyes widen, suddenly afraid. But Lina is quick to assuage my worries, doing her best to explain to me how children are made and that I have nothing to worry about.

"It will just be slightly uncomfortable when you get your menstrual cramps. And you'll need to change your pad every so often," she continues, going over every detail.

I just nod numbly, half relieved and half in shock.

How ironic, that I should reach my maturity by spilling blood, when I've just spilled blood. Sick laughter forms in my throat until I can't hold it in anymore. Lina looks at me askance, but I just shrug it off as nothing.

Because at the end, an unexpected calm settles over me.

I'm already going to Hell. Might as well enjoy the journey.