tomi.

Chapter One : There Are Softer Oak Trees

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Today, of all days, the sun is shining bright, casting long and skinny shadows that move with the wind, trees as tall as gods encircling the space, shielding the students - or more so protecting the people outside - from every imaginable horror that might stand within the institute.

I can't help but think, even for an instant, that this, sending me away, is also a way for my parents to protect themselves after what I've done. But there's also a voice in the back of my head that beseeches me, and mocks me. My father had never had a hard time defending himself from me. As soon as I turned old enough to fetch him a beer, I was old enough to be tossed around.

I stand there for a moment, and the taxi, growing tired of watching me stand still like I'm a statue built in the smack middle of the soft sandy pathway that leads inside the boarding school, begins rolling away. I debate running- debate the amount of days I'd survive if I did. I would find a place to squat- I did it before, I could do it again. But I wondered, silent even in my own head, how long it would take before someone or something predatory caught me. Not long, considering I stood five foot short, cursed with the face of a cherub angel, as my mother would often say.

It would take barely a week before someone caught me, or picked me out from the crowd and I was done for.

Furthermore, there would be people who would recognize me. The words from the television report flash before my eyes. "Small Town girl accused of suicide-mass-murder- More information on the seven pm news."
Suicide Mass-murder... I supposed it was a way to dramatise the news- gain some clicks. Only four of us had died. We were five, that night. I was supposed to be the fifth one, of course. Even when I went tumbling down through air and nothingness, even when I hit the water, I very well thought this was my last day. But then, before I knew it, I was jerking awake on the rocky sand beach, watching as the light house turned. Turned. Turned. Turned.

I squinted, suddenly, hit by a light, all akin to the one from the lighthouse, flashing from a window above, up, up, up in that monstrous, stone edifice. I cock my head. The windows are too far for me to catch the moving shadows, the sparkle of light against mirrors, and it is gone the next moment. Finally, after a settling breath and a long winded encouragement I thought I might have gotten from one of the therapists at the hospital, I begin on the sun-dappled pathway, offsetting the clear golden sand beneath my feet matched with terracotta tiles, all of it lined with gracefully arched trees whose branches sway gently in the breeze.

The façade of the school is constructed from sun-kissed stones, exuding a welcoming warmth- a trick to make students feel as though there is nothing at all to worry about. Delicate wrought-iron balconies adorned with colourful flower boxes add a touch of something like provencal charm and familiarity, while ornate carvings on windows and doorways make it feel like more of a church, a castle, or something from long, long ago that had remained untouched.

Twin spires reach towards the azure sky- a near perfect match to the sea below the mountain, their summits adorned with graceful wrought-iron finials that mirror the intricate craftsmanship of the windows. The entrance door, a rich mahogany with subtle carvings, swings open with a gentle creek when I finally reach close enough to be seen by whoever is waiting to welcome me on the other side. Above the entrance, a weathered coat of arms or a school crest appears, made up of an eagle and a dolphin and so many tiny, tiny details I can't catch all in a moment.