"We can start whenever you're ready, Miss." The interviewer, in her black dress, muttered as she clicked her pen on her pad of paper. "Alright." I took a breath, stealing a sip from my water bottle before licking my lips and nodding, "go ahed." My hands were sweaty and my heart sped; my nerves were still frantic even though I'd been in a hundred interviews before. "Is it true that you survived alone, without any human contact, until you were found at approximately age eighteen?" The woman asked, not bothering to look up at me. "Yes." "And is it true that you were found by a Rebecca Mercy DiCastale?" "I like to say I found her." I mused anxiously. "Did you?" "She had found a tool I'd lost, and after investigating further into my wandering grounds, I found her as I returned to my home." I explained, recalling the event. "Well, as you probably know, the main goal of this session is to get a detailed account from you of your experiences before and after being found." The interviewer cast me a glance before returning to her paper. "Could you tell me about that?" I took in a deep breath. "Yes, I suppose I can."

No one ever had, or ever really would, mistake Hazel Sinclair for being normal. It just wasn't in her character; it wasn't in her stony eyes, or in the way she held herself, something reminiscent of a predator; lithe and calculated. It wasn't in the way her body was sculpted; meticulously refined, poised, deliberate, and almost statuesque, she gave the impression that she was made of marble; and if you touched her, you would be surprised to find her skin like an open flame rather than smoothened rock. She was the sort of dangerous your instincts knew to avoid, but also the kind of special your instincts knew you would never find again. Of course Grace Daniels knew that from the second she saw her. She knew it as she and Hazel were thrust together by fate, and Megan, time and time again. She knew it as they fought against each other, but kept returning every time they thought they had escaped. She knew it especially when Hazel had discarded her clothes and borne all of her marvels and scars; she was certainly not made of stone or steel. . . . [Revised Edition of Kira Greer (@ZephyrHeart)'s The Night School] . . . TRIGGER WARNING: this work contains mature themes and explicit content. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised. Asterisks [**] will be added to the end of chapter titles to indicate potentially triggering content. [Seriously, this isn't meant to be a light read. I'll do my best to fuck with your feels and my characters. Also, cursing. We curse here. It's more realistic, even if Wattpad doesn't like it in the comments.]