'𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬.'
'𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.'
Those were the words that Cordelia Alder lived by, those words reminded her how precious life is and those were the words that Tom Riddle remembered the day he died, until he...
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The spare bed in Cordelia's room, formerly Katie's bed, was made for the first time in months. Lucy punched her old patched up duvet and laid it down on her temporary bed while occasionally glancing at Cordelia. She was still concerned about her friend.
With her back to Lucy, Cordelia fixated on a dollhouse in front of her. Jane's parting gift to Lucy, a replica of Wool's. Though Lucy was thankful, Cordelia knew she didn't exactly like the gift.
Wool's itself was a gloomy place without the loud chatter of children from every corner of the place. The dark gothic architecture from the Victorian era certainly didn't help. The grey-blue arches and spires made the large house look quite intimidating.
And Cordelia was sure the stone gargoyles removed a few years before she came certainly added to the frightening factor. The custom dollhouse had managed to capture the eeriness of the Wool's exterior even without those removed gargoyles.
As a result, Lucy had asked, no, begged Cordelia to take the dollhouse, not as a present but something to keep, a way to keep it out of her sight. Lucy would never give Cordelia something so eerie as a gift.
Being the good friend she was, Cordelia obliged. She wasn't scared of the dollhouse; if anything she found it fascinating. When Robbie brought it in, she asked him to put it in the centre of the room, he found it odd but didn't question it much.
Whenever she was alone in her room, she liked to pretend the dollhouse was actually Wool's and she could see where everyone was or what they were doing. Obviously she couldn't but she did like to pretend.
"Amy's so...vile!" Lucy let out a silent scream with her hands in the air. "How could she ruin your birthday dinner like that?"
Eying the ticking clock above the window, Cordelia shrugged. It was past midnight and her birthday was over and a new day had already begun. She'd already shed enough tears for her birthday because of Amy's fit of jealousy.
Her hair was dangerously damp and coiled up as she ran her fingers through them, trying to untangle them. She flinched a little, not in pain or because of Lucy's unmoving gaze on her. In her ears, Cordelia could still hear Amy's haunting shrieks as she rolled around in the dining hall while her face turned blue.
"And then she started throwing that fit." Lucy carried on, jumping down from her bed and pulling the moth-eaten blue curtains on Cordelia's window. "I bet she, Dennis and Eric did something again. I bet she stole Fran's inks again. She must've done something."
"I don't think so." Amy's shrieks of pain looked too real to be false. The sudden blue spots appeared too real to be simply ink or paint and Cordelia knew Amy wouldn't scratch her face that aggressively over a lie. "It was real, I don't think Amy or Dennis would go that far for a simple joke or to cause trouble. No, I think it was real. You heard those screams. Amy's not that good of an actress."
Lucy shrugged, she didn't really care. She was more concerned about the ruined dinner party. "Well, she did say she wanted to be a star and wanted to go to America." Lucy shifted in her seat on the bed and leaned closer to Cordelia who was on the floor. "Remember that time she pretended her mother was an actress that had to leave her behind."
