The Seventh Deadly Sin

Part Four: Dealing Dominic

"I WARNED YOU, BUT YOU CHOSE TO SEAL THE CONTRACT. WITH THE MOST DEADLY SIN,"

- ESMERALDA

I WOKE UP WITH THE most deplorable headache; my temple felt wedge, and the pain was intolerable. Naomi insisted that I shouldn't have to go to School If I'm feeling unwell. Still, I reassured her and Mrs. Heathers that I could manage it because it was Wednesday. I can't sacrifice my attendance just because of this mean sickness. "Just call us if something happened," Mrs. Heathers ordered, slightly hesitant. I nodded and rested my head on the leather chair before George pulled into the driveway.

Mr. Gibson pursued his protocol, adding ninety-seven words to my nine hundred sixty-five essays. It was torture for me. I wanted to protest and plead that I'm not capable of this activity today. But he disregards my excuses and adds another two hundred words, which lengthens Reid's cold company and Mr. Gibson's sadistic way of punishing his least favorite student, me.

It took me almost two periods to finish my essay. And it was surprising and unusual that I managed to complete my task. Our History teacher, Sir Alfred Knitz, was kind enough to let me in even though I already missed the last fifteen minutes of his lectures. My head feels heavy, and I have the urge to sleep in class, like what Alex has been doing. But I have to be polite, and be attentive as I can. So, I sit up straight and take down notes. Till my head slowly drops from my table...

"Ms. Heathers!" I flinched. "Sit up straight; we'll talk later." He scolded, proceeding to his lesson. My cheeks flushed, ashamed of what I'd done. Sir Alfred might report my behavior to Mr. Gibson, and my essay might reach thousands. I exhaled sharply because of the thought, laying my head low before writing again.

The bell rang, and my classmates stormed off, enthusiastic that they would finally have their break after two hours of lesson. I grabbed my books and walked hesitantly towards Sir Alfred, who was still gathering and fixing up all his papers and equipment. So I waited patiently, silently praying that he might not report everything to Mr. Gibson. "Mary Jane, right?" he asked after we settled in our designated place. I nodded, holding down my moist palms.

Sir Alfred's red eyes studied me curiously. Putting his hands over his chin, "You're a new student here, right?" he said. I cleared my throat before spilling, "Yes, I'm new here." He suddenly straightened his posture and stared as if wasting his mind, "That explains it. Now, if I ask you this question, you have to answer with your most wisely chosen words, do you understand?" I nod. "Good, so this is my question. Did you even know what Mastema High is?"

I didn't know if I should be insulted. I was a foster child, but even though I grew up with several strangers over my nineteen years of life, it still doesn't imply that I didn't know what 'School' was. "Pardon, Sir Alfred. But I do know exactly what this institution is," I said, rudely as I expected. Biting down my tongue after realizing what I had just done. His eyes softened before he nodded, "Good, now this will be easier to explain because, for the past three days, I noticed that you're different than the rest of my students,"

"How am I different?" I asked incredulously. "It's your appearance. Now I will ask you another question, Mary Jane. Even at the tender age of nineteen, I know you already have the wisdom of curiosity. Let's say that when your Mother took you into foster care, have you ever wondered why her eyes were different? Why are everyone's eyes red?"

The question itself took my full attention, and I sat properly before looking at him. "What are you trying to portray, Sir Alfred?" I asked. "The thing is, have you ever wondered about the sudden changes in your environment? And if so, have you resembled the pieces as the answer in your curiosity, or are you too afraid to face the enticing mystery because someone has been threatening you not to cross the line?"