Prologue

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The feeling in the cold, wooden hallways was one of suffocating loneliness. Hundreds of thousands of children had passed through these halls, almost all of them feeling the same way, but somehow it is human nature to think your struggle is somehow different. Sometimes you would hear laughter, sometimes you would see smiles; but they never reached the eyes.

St Andrews School for Misajusted Boys had been around since 1837. It aimed to smother the life, soul and personality of every young man who walked through those stately, imposing doors. Or to quote it's aims:
"To control, to limit, teach boundaries and stamp out indecency."

Creativity was not encouraged. The school's only subjects were Maths, Science, RE and History. It was common thought among teachers that if given creative leeway, students would be uncontrollable.

There was no mobile phone signal. No internet.

The school grounds were shrouded in mist for half of the year, and covered in snow the other half.

St. Andrew's was certainly not the place for boys like Dan. He couldn't do Maths or PE but he got A's in Art and creative writing.

He still didn't believe what he did was wrong. He loved who he loved, and nobody could change that.

His parents thought differently. When they heard about St. Andrew's it seemed the perfect excuse to get rid of the boy who had shamed their family.

Dan had kissed a boy.

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