Devil's Hour
Lyra
"If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?" — William Shakespeare
I wake up by 3 am — the devil's hour, obviously. I was drenched in sweat, and my eyes were moving frantically around my cold, dusty room to get my bearings. Wonderful, I tell myself, what a perfect day for me to have nightmares about my abusers. I sigh and dress my bed. I walk into the bathroom with stiff toes and wash my face. I look in the mirror and see a girl with piercing dark green eyes, black onyx hair styled messily on top of her head messily and sigh. Great, I tell myself, what a good day for me to start my day as Vesper Hale in a school I despise.
I quickly shower, the warm water cascading down my back in soft waves, and take a good look at my uniform. An onyx blazer, which had Blackstone's crest embedded on it, a large, black raven with its wings spread open, dominates the upper portion of the crest. It is alighted on the top of a stone shield. A large, embellished sword is driven vertically through the middle of the stone shield, which has fissures running through it. A twisted, prickly diadem circumscribes the shield. Above the raven's head is a small, old-fashioned clock. The milieu features a dark, illuminated sky and several tall, pointed Gothic castle towers, adding to a dark and peculiar atmosphere. A banner at the bottom of the crest reads "BLACKSTONE ACADEMY." Huh, a bit too fancy for a school that hides so many secrets.
It also has a white, brittle blouse, a knee-length pleated black skirt, and I am, of course, going to wear black leggings under this, she tells herself. Lustrous black loafers, a black tie, and my glasses. This school is already looking like a graveyard before I even make it one. I sigh and start wearing this monstrosity as my uniform. I untangle my knee-length, onyx black hair with bangs and brush it. I wear my Browline stylish semi-rimless frames.
I take one last look in the mirror, noticing how the uniform contrasts against my caramel skin and pointed jaw perfectly. I take one last look around my room before I leave this wretched house and meet my destination: Blackstone Academy. I leave my room and make eye contact with my foster parents, who sneer at me and look at me with disgust. That's their business, though. I'm leaving this house for them; they should be grateful I didn't kill them. I loaded my luggage into the Uber and drove off to Blackstone Academy to start my first day.
