Hours had passed since Sam Hunter's fist collided with my cheek. The sting had faded, but the memory hadn't. Not the shock. And now—there he was. Kneeling. Not the furious boy who'd lashed out earlier. Not the storm I'd braced myself against. This was someone else entirely. Sam looked… scared. His green eyes, usually so full of fire, were wide and glassy. His face was pale—paler than I'd ever seen it. Like the blood had drained out of him, leaving only the shell of a boy who didn't know what he'd become. I didn't speak. I couldn't. Because that look—God, that look—was seared into me. It wasn't just fear. It was something deeper. A silent scream behind his eyes. A question he didn't know how to ask...….
--x--
It's been two weeks since I got here. Two weeks of sideways glances and whispered questions. They still look at me like I'm a stranger—like I don't belong. Maybe I don't. Maybe that's the point. It's also been two weeks since that moment. Since I saw Sam Hunter kneeling, pale and broken, like a boy who'd just met the worst part of himself. That image clings to me like smoke—always there, just beneath the surface. I see it when I close my eyes. I see it when I don't. My first-class today is psychology. I'm twelve. I don't need psychology. I already know how people work—how they break, how they lie, how they fight. So, I skip it. Next is P.E. Yeah, no thanks. But then I glance at the timetable in my hand and realize—it's yesterday's. I smile. A soft, genuine smile. Not the kind I wear when I'm about to make someone regret messing with me. That smile's sharper, colder. This one's real. And before you say anything—yes, people do like to pick fights with me. Over the dumbest things.
And yes, I usually win. Anyway. I'm walking through the school when I spot Mrs. Rae. She's alone, her heels clicking with purpose. Her posture says she's on a mission. So, I do the sensible thing. I follow her. She heads toward the western wing. The part Sam never let me see. Said it was "off-limits." Said it was "nothing." Which, of course, made me want to see it even more. The corridors shift as I trail behind her. The light dims. The air changes. It's colder here, quieter. The usual flickering bulbs cast long shadows on the walls, making everything feel… older. Forgotten. And then Mrs. Rae turns a corner-and vanishes. I pause. Something tells me I'm not supposed to be here. But I keep going anyway.
There were faces on the walls—photographs, paintings, maybe even sketches. I couldn't tell. They stared back at me with a strange familiarity, like echoes from a dream I couldn't quite remember. The air was colder here, biting at my skin, and the chill wasn't just physical. Something about this place made my thoughts foggy, like I was walking through a memory that wasn't mine. Mrs. Rae moved ahead, her heels clicking against the stone floor. I kept my distance, careful not to be seen. If she caught me here, it'd be over. Expulsion. The social worker had made it clear: "This is your last chance." And as much as I hated to admit it, I didn't want to blow it. This place—this weird, creaky, rule-ridden place—had grown on me. I'd made friends. Real ones. The kind you don't want to lose. Sentimental much? I muttered to myself, ducking behind a pillar as Mrs. Rae turned. She was heading toward something—an altar, maybe? It looked ceremonial, ancient, like it belonged in a cathedral or a secret society meeting. I held my breath, heart pounding. Whatever she was doing, I wasn't supposed to see it.
But I was already in too deep.
"I wanted you to see this place Reyna" My heart skipped a beat, so she had seen me after all. That cold feelings building up again. I don't know why but I'm smiling, I can feel my lips stretch into a smile. I'm about to do something I'm going to regret and I won't be able to stop myself. I can feel the air get cloudy, I can't breathe. I guess this is my brain's way of saying it's over, my feet move on their own accord. There she is Mrs. Rae in all her former glory, towering over me with a look, oh gods that look. It froze me were I was, her eyes were colder, frosty. It looked almost - maniacal. This is what happened with Sam, something is going on here and these two are in the center of it all. No! tha-that can't be true. "This is where people find out if they're capable, are you sure you're capable of withstanding the trials to come Reyna." I stopped. I blink against the swirling fog, voice brittle. "What… do you mean?" My words hang in the damp air as I search her face for a flicker of emotion. Mrs. Rae stands just beyond the lantern's weak glow. Her glasses catch the mist, lenses fogged—yet her eyes are unnervingly clear. I should see only opaque glass, but I can't look away from her gaze. "You knew," I whisper, each syllable cracking. "You still let me follow you. Why—why would you do that?" My voice shatters on the final word. Sadness flits across her features, but I reject it. She starts to walk toward me, each step she takes echoes. She's reaching out, no. that's not Mrs. Rae. Th-that's someone else. I can see her face morph into- it's someone from the past. I've had this exact nightmare, I've woken up screaming. She looks like me but older.