Room 537

Chapter 3

I turn my head to the left and look out of the window of the car. Florida School for Boys.

It doesn't look like how I'd imagined it. It's completely deserted from the rest of society. It looks more like a really fancy farm. As we pull off the tar road and onto the dirt one. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This eerie feeling washes over my entire body.

You know that feeling where you get so anxious that a pit forms in your stomach and you feel like you're about to faint? Yeah, a lot of that is happening right now and I don't like it.

Charlie. You're overthinking. Like you always do. It's just like a less serious juvi. They wouldn't put a fucking murderer here. You'll only be here for 6 months. No matter how bad things will get it'll only be temporary.

Deep breaths. Like mom said.

I sling my two bags full of all my possessions onto my shoulder and once the car stops I open the door and climb out. The cold air hits my face like a ton of bricks. Florida is usually a warm sunny place but winters here are a bitch. I can't tell if it's the winter air choking me in coldness or the feeling I'm getting from this school.

This place looks like the setting of a horror movie. The dark grey sky and thunder in the background doesn't help either. Neither does the eardrum shattering scream that rips through the air coming from the inside of the building. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

In hindsight, the second I walked in and saw blood on the wall I should've ran away. I was on the track team in middle school. I would've had a chance.

My mind was scrambling trying to come up with a logical explanation for the blood on the wall.

Maybe someone ran and hit their head against the wall.

That's a lot of blood though...

Maybe there was a fight, and someone forgot to clean up.

That makes sense right? I mean, nobody's perfect.

The I turn my head and nearly every wall is covered in blood and my hope for it only being a fight is thrown out of the window.

"Name?" Someone's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. A short white woman stands before me. She has light brown hair that's darker at the roots- pulled into a bun. Her pants are navy blue with a bright white shirt.

"Charlie Calloway." I speak. She looks down at her clipboard.

"Room 537. Right down the hallway." Then she leaves.

I walk down the hallway, taking deep breaths as I do. I used to think horror movies were overdramatic. The lamps that seemed to give up as soon as the main character walked down the hall. The fact that the hall always had ominous lighting. They weren't being dramatic at all because this is exactly what's happening to me.

I step in front of the door numbered 537. The door used to be white, but a few factors have changed the colour. Age. Maybe sunlight. Blood.

I turn the stained doorknob to open the door. The room is about as small as I expected it to be. The walls are a faded blue colour. There's a desk to the right of the door and a chest of drawers on the wall adjacent to it. There's a bookshelf against the wall opposite the door with two twin beds on either side of it. The bed by the window is empty but the other bed has a boy sitting on it. He's playing with the strings of his guitar. He probably hasn't noticed my presence yet.

While he plays, I try to get a good look at it. He has a thick head of the fluffiest black hair I've ever seen. It looks like a cloud on his head. I can't see his face yet, but I can see the outlined of a pair of thin framed glasses. From the length of his legs, he looks pretty tall. Then the sound of guitar strings stops. The boy looks up. His bright blue eyes scream at me the second he looks up. They're beautiful. Breath taking. They're so blue that they almost look grey. Holy shit. I think I spent an eternity just looking at those eyes.

"Hi." I say. My word coming out as a whisper.

He places his guitar on the bed next to him and stands up. I was right. Tall. Very, very tall. He's like one of those people who can touch a ceiling without standing on their toes. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating but still very tall.

"Hey." He speaks. British. He's British. Not just British. British, British. His voice feels like it's touching me. Is that weird?

He stands in front of me holding out his hand for me to shake.

"Elijah Lockwood." He introduces.

Elijah. That's a pretty name for a boy.

"Charlie Calloway." I answer. Our eyes meet and our hands stay in that shaking position for an uncomfortably long time. Blue. So blue.

"Nice to meet you, Charlie." With that he leaves the room. I shake my head and place my bag down on my bed.

There's another desk in the room. It was behind the door so I couldn't see it essentially. There's also another door near Elijah's bed. I assume it's either a closet or a bathroom.

I pack my clothes into the chest of drawers which takes about 5 minutes considering I have two bags of possessions to my name and 20% are books.

Looks like this is my life for the next 6 months.