Unfamiliar scenery rapidly flicked past your window like an unending picture book, the array of green hues blurred into a seamless ribbon of colour, a fleeting kaleidoscope of nature's artistry. The gravel road beneath you murmured a rhythmic melody, its pebbles dancing in the wake of your journey.
Occasional bursts of colour streaked past, other vehicles breaking the solitude of the open road, their presence fleeting as they vanished into the distance. Towering fir trees stood sentinel, their majestic forms looming over the landscape like ancient guardians, watching your solemn stare glaring past the sheen sheet of glass. Lost in your thoughts, your gaze drifted past the polished surface of the window, the world outside a mere backdrop to the symphony playing in your ears. The music poured forth from your headphones, embracing you in the escapism the symphony brought.
You'd have never thought your life would come to this: sat in shame as your parents escorted you to the desolate forests of West Virginia miles from home, away from everyone and everything you'd ever known. You wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for him, his influence puppeteering each decision you made. 'Do something to come to Ericson's', he'd told you. It started off small, unprovoked aggression that eventually escalated into spurs of violence which merely landed you suspensions. Noting your actions were futile, you took a page from Mitch's book, compiling the knowledge he'd bestowed upon you to form a bomb, tarnishing your previously pristine reputation as you exploded part of the school's gymnasium. As your parents pleaded to the police not to arrest you, they blamed the pyromaniac's influence, insisting you needed help not a prison sentence. Hence, your current predicament.
Despite the outward appearance, you were never an inherently bad kid, always the one parents said was a 'delight to have around', always the one who would volunteer to hang out with the new student, always the one who followed the right path. And now look at you: a fallen angel.
Signposts signalled the directions for the boarding school, bold white guides indicating its whereabouts. As it reared down a manmade gravel path, your car was encapsulated by the surrounding trees, blocking the sun's beams and casting striped shadows atop the vehicle. Your heart drummed with anxiety as your impending arrival loomed closer, a carousel of paranoia whirled in your mind, each jumper a unique fear of the characters imprisoned behind the steel gates.
As your car slowly rolled toward the school, you caught a glimpse through the front window. The verdant canopy of the forest gradually gave way to a clearing, revealing an imposing sight ahead. A barricade of brick towered amid the forest, sturdy brickwork stood grand amidst the dense foliage, its towering walls preventing entrance or exit. At the heart of the barrier, a pointed gate loomed, its obsidian hue contrasting starkly against the surrounding masonry. Intricately wrought bars formed the gate's structure, their elegant curves coalescing to create the unmistakable emblem of Ericson's Academy.
The car halted before the gate. Retrieving his phone, your dad exited the vehicle, dialling an unfamiliar number as he leaned against the bonnet, puny opposite the towering metal spikes. Heaving a sigh, your mum hesitantly twisted to face you, gently tapping your knee. Noticing her, you slid off your headphones and turned off your music. Through a trembling voice, she said, "I really hope you get the help you need, (Y/N)." She had a kinder heart than your dad, seeking the best in the worst kinds of people. Despite your dad's certainty that you had gone batshit, she believed you were still the same doe-eyed, smiley girl you were before, simply guided down the wrong path... troubled youth, one could say. She wasn't wrong - no 'untroubled' person would explode half a building purely to accompany their friend - yet, inside you remained the same person you were before, guilt-ridden by your actions despite the stern facade you upheld.
Glancing out the window, you lowered your head, gaze shifting to the walkman in your hands as you twiddled the headphone wire. "Thanks." Was all you said.
The door suddenly swung open, "C'mon, they're coming to open the side gate." Your dad curtly informed, slamming the door with equal force as he angrily trudged to the boot, yanking out your suitcase. Timid, you subconsciously looked to your mum who offered you a teary-eyed smile. You slunk out of the car, shame clouding over you as you sheepishly collected your suitcase, trailing behind your dad to the side gate.
A woman with glistening espresso skin approached the gate, posture as sharp as a knife as she strutted, heels clicking against the cobbled path. Her knee-length pencil skirt tightened her step, her sable black blazer secured by the centre buttons. Fastening a key into the gate, it opened with an ear-piercing creak, reverberating throughout the canopy. Extending an arm, she firmly shook your dad's hand, "Mr (L/N), nice to finally meet you in person." Attention swiftly snapping to you, her eyes narrowed to a steely pinprick, scrutinising you with the venom of judgement, "(Y/N), I assume?" You weren't used to people looking in such disdain; you meekly nodded. Meanwhile, your mum cracked the door open, listening through her silent sobs. "I'm Ms Harris, the Deputy Head of Ericson's Academy." She introduced, "Parents, if you would like to bid your daughter goodbye, I'll be taking her in promptly."
Instantaneously, your mum rushed out of the car, embracing you in a hug she couldn't bear to let go of, arms tied around you desperately. "I love you," she mustered a whisper, "I hope you get better." Your dad's hand on her shoulder tore her away. Unlike her, he simply watched you, expression unchanging despite the sombre reality.
"Is that all of your luggage?" Asked Ms Harris with a cold stare. Sending your parents a final glance, you nodded, the unrelenting drums of your heart deafening your ears as they rang throughout your head. Giving you a sharp nod, Ms Harris returned her attention to your parents, "You will receive updates on (Y/N)'s progress via email at the end of every term. Safe travels, Mr and Mrs (L/N)." With a snap of her head, she beckoned you into the campus. You refused to turn back as the distance between yourself and your parents increased, unable to face the amplitude of emotions bubbling within you.
The courtyard was expansive, with picnic tables neatly scattered across the freshly mowed grass. The pristine wood of the tables, however, was marred by crude graffiti. At the centre of the courtyard, a flagpole stood tall, the US flag fluttering proudly in the gentle breeze. The yard was bordered by imposing buildings, creating a sense of confinement despite the open space. Ms Harris charged through the area, tearing your attention away from the spacious circle as you trailed behind her, unable to observe further.
She sternly guided you to a one-storey building, clicking open the doors and impolitely refusing to press one open to allow you in, letting the large wooden slab swing back into you. With your spare hand, you unlatched the door and scurried to match her pace. The neat hallway was decorated by an array of motivational posters, each one adorning a sickly quote which made you grimace as you cringed. A half-full trophy cabinet stood grand against a wall, displaying each sporting achievement with a glimmer of metallic gold. Room numbers flashed by, counting down with each door. Halting in front of room 202, Ms Harris sharply swerved to face you with her narrow stare, "This will be your room," she informed, "your roommates have been excused from their classes for the hour to help you settle in."
"Roommates?" The word echoed in your mind, the spiral of paranoia returning as a relentless tornado, sweeping away any remaining positivity and transforming it into a torrent of worries. You feared the demonic personalities that might lurk behind the door, trapped within the hellish confines of the school gates. Ms Harris' piercing glare aided your frightened gaze to no avail, watching apathetically as your trembling hand inched towards the handle.
YOU ARE READING
ᴏᴜᴛꜱɪᴅᴇ ɪɴꜰʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ
FanfictionSince you were born, you and Mitch had been attached at the hip, but when he was sent to Ericson's, your world shattered. Desperate to maintain your connection, you poured your heart into letters, but one plea from Mitch changed everything: "Do some...
