after a prank gone terribly wrong, hayden jones is sent across country to caldwell academy, a school for the bitchy, the dangerous and the rebellious.
and if that wasn't bad enough, it becomes much worse when hayden is accidentally put in the male d...
A/N: Heya, just a quick warning that this chapter talks a little about suicide, it's only like smidge though. I love you guys and I don't want anyone feeling uncomfortable by it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I NEVER KNEW how calming the sounds of birds could be. When I was younger, I use to, in a fit of blazing rage, blindly shoot at trees with a water gun and attempt to knock the birds out of the trees for waking me up. Now, I never wanted to hear another sound except the extremely soothing songs of the birds.
David had rented out an adorable cottage in the woodlands outside of Seattle. And by adorable I mean fucking huge. This place had seven bedrooms and nine and a half bathrooms. I mean, half of a bathroom? What kind of rich people bullshit is that? It was surrounded by large towering trees and I as I stood in the sprawling expanse of the back lawn, I carefully watch a squirrel scramble it's way up a thick trunk.
The morning sun beat down and warmed me through the dusty red material of my sweater. I also had a cup of steaming hot tea in my hands and stood bare foot on the dewy grass beneath.
It had been five days since I had left the hospital and two since Chase had been released. The cottage wasn't far enough to be fully alone as police officers have shown up here a couple times. I'm fine with most of it I just hate having to re-tell every fucking piece of detail to a new cop every fucking time. I hate even thinking about it.
I've woken up screaming from my nightmares. Most of them go along the lines of my fear of Luke breaking out, tracking me down and slicing my throat while I sleep. Others are of him hurting my mom, or Chase, or Vera and Penn, or anyone else I hold dear to my heart. They've gotten better the past two nights due to sleeping next to Chase. He's usually awake when I burst from my sleep, breathless and frantic. He lulls me back to sleep in his arms despite his injured shoulder.
I'm meant to see a therapist tomorrow at midday, and then after that I have yet another appointment with a clinical psychologist who I had met twice while in hospital. He's an old guy, extremely sweet but also super invasive. Between him and the officers, I always get the feeling that I'm the one being questioned; I'm the one at fault for all of this. And it's true.
The french doors behind me open and I glance over my shoulder, watching as my mother brings out a tray and sets it on the large wooden table outside.
"Your feet are going to get cold, Hayden." Mom explains as she glances down at my bare feet. I smile as I turn completely and walk across the grass and up the porch steps to her.
"I like the feeling." I explain as I set my mug down on the table and examine her tray. Except, it wasn't a tray at all but a blank canvas and on top were a couple paints and paintbrushes. I frown, "Mom, did you buy all of this?"
"Yeah..." She trails off as she sets everything out perfectly straight. I could tell she was nervous as her fingers stumble over each other; she also wasn't making eye contact with me, "You just haven't painted in a while—and I thought it could bring you some joy I guess. Maybe this a stupid idea. I just—I don't know what to do—I don't know how your feeling, what your feeling or even if your feeling Hayden. You don't talk to me Hayden. Or anyone else for that matter. "
