Alina hummed to an old classic blasting through her headphones. Her eyes were trained on a lady clad in black gloves and a dark grey coat that looked like the skin of a carcass, as if the sun wasn't hot enough. Her mother, Mrs. Cunningham. Her hair was pulled up in a stiff bun and her forehead reflected sunlight. She had the faintest trace of a smile on her face. Alina rolled her eyes.

Mrs. Cunningham conversed with the school mistress, a gentlewoman so tall she dwarfed Alina's mother. The mistress didn't seem so much older, but her straw, blonde hair had begun greying around the edges. Their conversation soon bored Alina, as did many things. She turned around and made a sweeping search. Students filed in and out of a sprawling three-story building, looking all prim and proper. Some hung around a water fountain, taking in the splendid view of gurgling water, while others just strolled in the garden.

Although it was the last place she wanted to be, this would be her life for eternity. Alina heaved a sigh, with tears wetting the corner of her eyes. She furiously wiped it away and her lips stretched into a thin smile. Her mother waved, calling for her attention, so Alina removed her headphones from her ears and hung it around her neck. The mistress held out a hand. Alina looked at the hand stretched out to her, and back up at the Mistress's straight face, before shaking her head. Anything to get the ball rolling.

"Come on, Alie. This is going to be your new home. You can't afford to start making enemies with the owner." Her mother's voice was stern, making Alina scrunch her face. She hated the voice, like a crawling on her skin—just like she hated the nickname she had been given. Alie.

"It's okay, miss. You've done a great job bringing her. I'll take it from here." The mistress tried to smother the hurt. She touched Alina's shoulder. "I'm Mrs. Poll by the way."

Alina shrugged her hand off but didn't say a word. There were a couple of jokes she could make about it, like how the mistress's name was fitting because she was slender and tall. Like a pole. But she swallowed them. It was such "bad behaviour" that got her there in the first place.

"Alright. I beg to take my leave," her mother said, pulling her bag up her arm. "I've got some work to do. I can only hope your methods are as effective as they say." Mrs. Cunningham shook hands with Mrs. Poll—the handshake lasted longer than it should, and for a moment it seemed like they exchanged a smile too—then she turned to smile at her daughter, lean and kiss her forehead.

"Be a good girl," Alina's mother muttered, smoothening the collar of her dress. Her statement was supposed to be a bit assuring, however, it sounded more like a threat. Alina stared with glazed eyes, just waiting for the day to be over, and then, many more days after that.

"Of course, I assure you. She'll be better in no time," Mrs. Poll said the minute she stepped away from her. Her fingers were entwined at her back, like a teacher would when scolding a kid.

Soon, Mrs. Cunningham waved one last time and walked away to a limousine waiting outside the school gate. Mrs. Poll's brittle smile vanished and her cheeks now looked sunken. Alina released her clenched fingers, trying to keep her heartbeat steady. Just get through this, her mind echoed.

"Shall we? I'll be your tour guide for today." Mrs. Poll nodded at polished steel doors, leading into the building. "Tomorrow, I'll send someone in." Her tone was icy, bearing no emotion. She grabbed a wooden cane that had been leaning on the door.

Alina simply gave a curt nod. Her throat was clogged, making it difficult to talk.

Mrs. Poll led Alina through so many hallways, Alina didn't think she could find her way out anymore if she wanted to flee. There was really no backing out now. The hallways were narrow, but wide enough for two slender people to walk side by side. Mrs. Poll's heeled shoes knocked the floors, while Alina's slippers slapped behind her, and those were the only sounds that filled the hallways. Sometimes, Mrs. Poll tapped her cane on the wall. The walls were newly painted, with fine burgundy and faint splatters of red blended in. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sparkling like electricity, reflecting sunlight that poured in through the arched windows. Sometimes, the light got in her eyes and she would have to look away.

Mrs. Poll led her from one room to another, and it seemed like the tour would never end. Her movements were mechanical, as if she was floating through the air. Hunger pangs clawed at Alina's stomach and her bones were so fatigued, she could hardly lift her legs when she walked. The only room she wanted a tour of—was her bedroom.

Soon, Mrs. Poll directed her to a room with the glass door ajar, then gestured inside. Alina shuffled closer, sticking her head through the space. Different workout instruments, including bell push and knife's edge, were in position. There were several iron manacles bolted to the wall and full-sizedgallows erected at the back of the room.

Some of the students were flexing muscles, sweat dripping from their tired faces. As Alina was about retreating, she spotted a shirtless guy from a distance. He released the weight he had been carrying, muscles rippling from the effect. Alina swore a slight shiver ran through her when he looked at her. Maybe she would like this school after all. Maybe.

"Come on, we don't have much time before you check in," Mrs Poll said, having stopped her tutoring speech. She frowned, her frame was straight. Alina thought for a split second that it would snap into two. Didn't she ever get tired of acting like the boss?

Alina cleared her throat and increased her walking pace to catch up with the grouchy lady. "Can I ask why I've been brought here again?" She was only trying to make conversation. Nothing more.

Mrs. Poll snorted, heels clanking on the polished wooden surface. "Permit me to enquire why you threatened your mother with a knife."

Alina paused, clutching the hand of her bag as if her life depended on it. "Is that what she told you?" The line between her brows drew together. Lies, that was all it was. It had been an act of self defense. Her arms stiffened by her sides.

"I guess that answers my question." They turned a corner in silence. The quiet helped Alina think and she wondered how she would cope in a world full of strangers. Would she have to make friends to survive? Alina had never been great at making friends—would she make enemies? What awaited her when she resumed school thatcoming Monday? She bit her bottom lip as the questions haloed her head in a frenzy. With each step, her brain supplied more questions—it was the only way forward.

"These are the chemistry, physics and biology practical labs." There wasn't much to see because a class was ongoing. As she walked on, the class shrieked, followed by a stampede of feet. "Quiet down!" Mrs. Poll snapped, slapping her cane on the wall. Everywhere stilled, as if it was a ghost town. What the— Alina narrowed her eyes at the dent the cane left on the wall. It couldn't be possible.

Mrs. Poll cleared her throat and collected herself. "Moving on... these are the classrooms. There are just a few because it's used mostly for meditation. You'll definitely be needing it." Mrs. Poll looked down at her, something flickered across her face. It quickly disappeared before Alina could make sense of it.

"What do you mean?" Alina asked when she caught up with her.

"In time, dear. In time." The tip of her cane tapped the floor, accentuating every word that flew out of her mouth.

Alina swallowed with difficulty. Whatever did it imply? "Will my mum be visiting every once in a while? Or can I be provided with a phone to contact her?" It was stupid to ask because Mrs. Poll squinted her eyeballs as she turned to glare.

"I think this is all the tour you get for now. I'll show you to your room." There was a hint of tiredness in Mrs. Poll's voice.

Alina exhaled deeply. Thank goodness. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Mrs. Poll hid a smile, as she pushed through a pair of double doors leading to the garden. Alina sniffed the air full of flowers, tracing her fingers over a few ripening buds. It was as if she was being transported to another world. Lost in a sea of green, swirling in the wind and basking in late-afternoon sun. How pleasant. Alina didn't realize they'd already left the garden behind and was now heading for the female dormitory. She struggled to keep up with Mrs. Poll's fast pace, almost tripping over her own two feet. Soon, she was facing an officer dressed in black, sitting at a desk.

"She's a new student," Mrs. Poll said briskly to the officer. "Please, check her in and don't allow her leave until dawn. I'll be keeping a close watch." With that, she left, swiping her cane left and right. Alina stared on, baffled. Was she being held prisoner in a school?

"Documents, please," a gruff voice demanded. Almost instantly, she recovered from her stun, searching her bag. "Here it is."

After a few clicks of the keyboard, the officer printed a paper slip and her schedule, granting her access. "Welcome to Greendale college," he said, his voice sounded automated, but like a frustrated computer operator.

Alina faked a smile, muttering her thanks. She followed the directions as stated in the paper, her legs felt heavy like pots of lead. Finally stopping in front of a steel door, she breathed, turning the knob. Here we go.