Shadows and Broken Glass

Secrets in the Shadows

Author's Note

The story of Willowbrook State School is based on real events, but the characters and their connections are fictional.

******

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the park. Mia's footsteps crunched on the gravel path as she walked towards the park, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She had earlier parted ways with Mark, their conversation echoing in her ears.

The trees swayed gently, their leaves rustling in the breeze. She pulled her coat tighter around her, the chill of the afternoon seeping through the fabric. Her mind raced, replaying Mark's words.

"Killian is connected to Willowbrook State School."

Mia's guess about Killian's connection to the school was more than intuition. It was a gut feeling—an ache deep within her chest. She wondered what secrets lay hidden in his eyes, what memories haunted him. Was he a survivor? A relative of someone who had suffered there?

The scent of freshly cut grass enveloped her, and for a moment, she was transported back to her high school days—the days before secrets and shadows had woven their way into her life.

Mia's footsteps slowed as she approached the old oak tree—the gnarled trunk standing tall, its branches reaching out like ancient arms. Memories flooded her mind, pulling her back to high school days when Mark had whispered promises beneath its sheltering leaves. Was this the same tree? The one Mme Rose had mentioned in her letter?

Mia glanced around, half-expecting to find an inscription carved into the bark—a testament to love or loss. But the tree remained silent, its secrets well-guarded.

The swings beckoned, their rhythmic creaks a counterpoint to the children's laughter. Their carefree voices a stark contrast to the heaviness in Mia's heart. She wondered if any of them knew the truth—the truth about Willowbrook State School and the souls trapped within its walls.

And there, in the far corner, a group of teenagers huddled. Their laughter was louder, their voices tinged with rebellion. Mia's gaze lingered on them. Were they like her once? Full of dreams and doubts, navigating the complexities of youth?

Mia's fingers brushed against the cool blades of grass as she lay there, her thoughts swirling like fallen leaves. It felt strange, almost forbidden, to be here. Not since high school had she allowed herself this simple pleasure—the luxury of lying on the grass, staring up at the sky, and letting her mind wander. The park held a peculiar comfort—a sanctuary where memories and questions danced together. She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of it all.

Why did she go to the park? The answer eluded her, slipping through her grasp like sand. Perhaps it was the weight of the letters. Those letters, inked with secrets and longing.

Was it fear that drove her here? Fear of what lay within those yellowed pages? Or was it weariness? A bone-deep exhaustion from carrying secrets like stones in her chest?

The laughter of children reached her ears—their innocence a contrast to the shadows that clung to Mia. She thought of the teenagers in the corner, their rebellious energy crackling like static. Had they, too, sought solace here? Or were their secrets lighter, their burdens easier to bear?

The whispers of the oak tree seemed to echo in her ears. "Remember, Mia," it seemed to say. "Promises made, secrets kept." But what secrets? And at what cost?

Perhaps the answers lay hidden in the rustling leaves or the laughter of children. Or maybe, just maybe, they resided within her own conflicted soul.

The grass cradled Mia's tired body, and for a moment, she allowed herself to forget the weight of her past. The sun's warmth seeped through her closed eyelids, and she drifted into a half-dream state. But then, a subtle shift in the air—a presence beside her.