Chiharu~1

1

I open my eyes slowly, very slowly. That night is almost two years ago, when I was fifteen. I can still remember every detail, the wild look in his gorgeous green eyes, the way he had called me his sister. I can hear the groans as the girls around me wake up.

There's over fifty of them, but without Nate, I'm very alone.

Our dorm mistress, a cold, perky blonde named Brittany, came bouncing.

"Fifteen until classes ladies. Tara, your on toilets, Kaede, dishes, Stephanie, garbage. The rest of you brats, clean up this sty." Brittany announces and leaves. I groan, sliding off the standard issue cot they gave me to sleep on. I slid into the black skirt and white blouse that serves as uniform to this horrid place. Not for the first time since that night, I wonder what happened to Nate. I mechanically tucked in my blouse, ran my fingers through my dark brown hair.

“Come on, Kaede.” One of the younger girls, a darling Clarissa calls to me. She’s only about nine years with big green eyes, exactly like Nate’s, thick, shiny blonde hair and porcelain colored skin.

Which is to say, she’s nine and is prettier then me.

Her eyes are red and puffy, and I remember that she’s very new, has only been here for about a week. She puts her thumb in her mouth, even though she’s too old and picks at her skirt.

“Come on.” I say gently, “I’ll walk you to classes.” Brittany comes back in.

“Sit.” She barked. I sat down immediately, pulling Clarissa down with me. Brittany’s ponytail bounces around as she paces from one end of the room to another. The room is still a mess. The black shag carpeting is covered with girls’ pajamas and undergarments. Brittany kicks a bra out of the way before proceeding.

“Well, girls.” She says, “one of you idiots have done it now. The headmistress is on her way.” A collective gasp sounds the room. The headmistress. The top bitch. Whatever one of us has done, it can’t be good.

We can hear the click of the heels, the loud, ominous sound. The door opens and she steps in.

Her suit is perfectly pressed, her auburn hair pulled into a perfect bun.

“Kaede Saitama.” She says, and exits the room. There is another room wide gasp and, cheeks burning, I push Clarissa from my lap and stand up, ready to follow the headmistress.

“Good luck,” Stephanie whispers.

“Yes,” Brittany echoes, “good luck.”

I don’t want to go to her office. My heart is racing, and I want Nate more then I ever have in two years. I can’t remember what I did. Maybe she finally realizes that I broke curfew that night. I think that’s impossible. As I run up the stone stairs, my eyes passing by the big silver suits of armor, the beautifully scary paintings of old graduates. One girl smiles smugly, as if she knows my fate.

Ha, She is saying. I can hear a light, high voice around me, you’re not going to like this, Kaede.

I keep running, reaching the top, twentieth, stair. I can see the plaque. It is shiny, and gold with black cursive writing. Headmistress Tylers’ office. I want to turn right around and run back down to my dorm.

“Come on, Miss Saitama. I will not wait forever.” Her voice is as cool, as always, hiding the anger underneath.

I walk down the hallway, adjusting my skit, and running a hand though my hair. My bare feet are numb from the cold cement, and they greet the plush carpet with sighs of warmth.

Headmistress Tyler looks at me.

“Come close and sit.” She orders lazily. I sit in the plush chair and rest my elbows on the mahogany desk. She has seven manila folders lined up one her desk. She opens the first one with one pale hand.

“Emily Heart. Eighteen years old.” Is all she says. Emily has fiery red hair, and is deathly pale. She is lying in dirt, dried blood over her bare arms and legs.

“Tara Taylors.” This one is blonde, but lying in the exact same position as Emily.

“Julia Gray.” This one is brunette. I come to a slow realization. They are all dead. I avert my eyes from the photos. My head begins to pound and I feel like I’m going to puke. I wondered why she is showing me these.

“Samantha Carter,” another red head. My heart begins to pound. Will I end up like these girls?

“Caysey Green.” Black hair, no blood on her arms. I can’t look anymore. I cast my eyes to the steel gray carpets.

“Stop.” I says, panting as though I’m out of breath, “stop.” The headmistress continues in her cold, cruel way. I know I shouldn’t argue. She does what she wants.

“Lindsay Carters.” I don’t look. I’m waiting for her to draw the shotgun and kill me.

“Nathaniel Black.” My heart stops and I look up. Nate. Nate. Tears fill my eyes and I look at the photo. His black hair his mussed, more messy then usual. His skin is covered in blood and I can’t take it. I get myself out of the chair, headed towards the plastic bucket that serves as a waste bucket. I lean over it, and proceed to puke my empty stomach up.