The Seventh Deadly Sin

Part One: Mother's Eyes

"IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT DEMONS SEEK FOR THE EYES, THAT'S LURKING IN THE SHADOWS"

- MRS. HEATHERS

FIFTEEN WEEKS had passed since I settled here at the Heathers' Residency. But even though the maids and Mrs. Heathers herself treated me with care and indulged me with expensive accessories and clothes. I'm still wearing the same navy blue dress I got in foster care. It's a beautiful dress, sewed delicately by loving and professional hands—Sister Marina is the one who made it on my recent birthday, on April 1.

The maids insisted that I should let it go. And that I should wear the expensive dresses Mrs. Heathers had bought for me, but I refused. And the only time that I would change my dress, is at night time, when I would wear my nightgowns. After that, I frequently asked the maids to wash their clothes every day so I could wear them.

Naomi brushed my blonde hair, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes pleaded for her to finish so I could finally confront Mrs. Heathers. And ask her if she knows anything about my missing crucifixes.

"You look so beautiful, young Mistress. No wonder you're Lady Devana's daughter," she beamed happily, brushing my hair.

I smiled, and my cheeks flushed, "thank you, Naomi."

She finished combing my hair hundreds of times, tying my hair up in a beautiful French - braid that complemented its golden color. Naomi put some flower clips on the sides. I thanked her once again and took my leave.

I was walking in the hallway, growing slightly familiar with the rooms and turns of the mansion, when suddenly, I saw George, Lady Devana's personal driver, looking slightly surprised before approaching me. "Young mistress, I've been looking for you for half an hour."

I muttered an apology before George pursued my walking, "Mistress ordered me to tell you that she'll be coming home late today. Finishing all the paperwork, starting from the foster care to your enrollment in Mastema High."

"What's Mastema?" I asked. "I've never heard of a school named Mastema, or perhaps it's not under Christian."

George seemed deep in thought, carefully choosing his words before proceeding. "You are right. It's not under Christian, but Mistress wants to make sure that the quality of the education was beyond standards," he trailed off, looking at me. "How old are you, by the way, if I may ask."

"I'm Nineteen,"

"Then, you should've been a college student instead. But rather, mistress Devana wants to see your high school certificate at least before providing you a much higher education," he paused and pardoned himself.

I looked at George's eyes. And there's a twinge of dark red surrounding his soft hazel eyes. And it made me remember my long-gone question. "Why do all of you have dark red eyes? I mean, it's unusual for people to have that kind of eye color,"

He didn't answer my question. And I spent my afternoon roaming and seeking something I didn't even know what. And I felt suburban. Tired and lacking ideas of how to spend time worthy. The maids entertained me by fixing my hair or preparing sweets. But I felt lonely, and I missed the nuns and the other foster children.

I fell asleep at 7:35pm and woke up late in the morning with a gorgeous school uniform placed on top of my sofa. My chest rose up in excitement, and I took it. Smiling when it suited me pretty nicely, the coat was pure black, sewed thoroughly by a glamorous silver thread, dark red necktie, and plain white polo underneath, though I felt slightly uncomfortable by the short skirt. But the long white socks covered it up, so it worked pretty nicely. And a school logo on the upper right coat, with MASTEMA HIGH printed with dark gray wings on each side.

I almost cried in pure giddy and happiness before I walked out of my bedroom, knocking softly on Mrs. Heathers. It took her a couple of minutes to open it up, and when she did, she smiled, noticing that I already wore the uniform.

"It suits you perfectly, my child." She complimented me, brushing my blonde locks on her fingers. She seems paler than usual, with dark red eyes turning a dull maroon and fatigue etched on her delicate face.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Heathers?" I asked worriedly. She didn't respond, opening her door wider so I could get in. Her room was dark, covered with thick red curtains that blocked the sun, antique furniture, and blood-curdling winged creatures; Mrs. Heathers plopped her weak body against the soft mattress, smiling faintly before she motioned for me to lay beside her. And so I did.

Mrs. Heathers wrapped her arms around me, kissing the top of my head, before resting her chin comfortably. Seeming satisfied that I'm near her. "Did you like the uniform, Mary Jane?"

"Yes," I replied, "I loved it; thanks, Mrs. Heathers," I said, feeling our strange connection. Her red lips curved in an adoring smile.

"I'm glad you liked it, Mary Jane, and I promised I'll give you more than that in the future."

George drives me to the school at 8am sharp, the next day after I talked with Mrs. Heathers. And I was beyond nervous because I'd never been to a school. And I don't know how to interact with average adolescent students.

"We're here, young mistress," George interrupted my thoughts. The car stopped, and my breath accelerated; I felt nervous and scared. And it took me a couple of minutes to realize I had to go in.

I took my bag and my schedule with trembling hands, encouraging my alter ego that I could do this before I got out of the car.

The Mastema School is not what I expected. It's too large, and its outer design was medieval-themed. Several students wearing the uniform were mingling and walking in the front garden. My chaperone offered to carry my bag, but I grew shy, so I carried my bag on my own, walking inside the school.

The students never seemed to notice me, like I was already one of them. And it made me feel comfortable and suburban, fair enough for my first day of high school.

I arrived in the hallway, and there was a group of girls that came towards me, smiling while I introduced themselves; the girl with auburn hair was named Alexis, the straight brown hair was Emily, and the girl with dark, unruly hair was named Esmeralda. They seem friendly and kind, so I mingle with them while putting my things in my locker.

"Your name sounds kind, and your face was so pretty," Emily smiled, looking at my appearance.

The three talked with me for a few minutes straight, and I enjoyed their company. And perhaps having friends is not as bad as I think it would be.

The first bell rang, and Alexis, Emily, and Esmeralda bid farewell. Going to their first classes, I took my first set of books and walked to my first class, Math.

I was halfway in my classroom. When I saw six groups of guys in the same direction where I was walking, all of them had dark red eyes, which bore in my direction.