• A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY •
• highest rank | #92 in mystery/thriller •
Having two business partners for parents meant they worked extra long shifts, and possibly, an addition of night shifts. Therefore, being alone at home in the middle of the nigh...
(dedicated to dirtypalette for being such a great and supportive friend, ily jen ♡)
06
S I N N E R S
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Mia was a wall of ice capable of frostbite.
There was no denying that she was also capable of being a cold bitch. She was opinionated, a little but feisty girl that had a lot to say, a lick of flame that could transform to hellfire in seconds. That didn't stop her from being well-liked, but that wasn't for the same reason Beverley was, in fact, the reasoning was different.
Beverley was a people-person. She hosted events, paraded charity fundraisers, participated in volunteer work for the sick and elderly. She was Beverley Rayne, serene like a summer's breeze, a girl with a future as bright as the sun ahead of her. Even with fragments of hazy memories of her glacial eyes, bloody clothes, and raw skin, Mia saw her best friend like the same.
Even with broken glass, bruised knuckles, and blood trickling down Toby's cheekbone, Mia saw her best friend for who she was sure she was. No one is a saint. People are all born sinners, produced by lust and drenched in romanticized greed. Perfection was a must that one could not fathom reaching, hard to grasp but oh, so inviting, a mystery.
Mia had thought Beverley was perfect.
In her eyes, Beverley could do no wrong. With gold hair, and a gold heart, came a golden girl; that screamed Bev, that was Bev.
Wasn't it?
Mia's father, Arash, was a man that believed in the comfort of food. There was nothing a slice of Baklava couldn't fix, not the worst heartache, not even a five thousand word essay. With a scoop of his homemade hazelnut ice cream, despite the cold, at the sight of Beverley's tears, he had brought up a slice for each of them to Mia's small room.
Beverley was sprawled on her bed, sinking deeper in the plush of her bed comforter, her lips trembling each time a new teardrop traveled down her blotched cheeks. The ride home was silent, and Mia didn't want to ask questions, noticing Beverley's crucially broken state. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and waited for her to speak if she wanted to.
Their plates of Baklava and now melted hazelnut ice cream sat untouched on her study. This wasn't something Arash's famous dish could fix.
Beverley's eyes remained on the ceiling. "He dumped me," slurred Beverley. "He dumped me because he doesn't love me anymore."
