They said St Dorian's Boarding School was one of the finest in Vermont — quite, far from the noise of the cities, surrounded by tall pine trees. It was supposed to shape us into leaders, thinkers, achievers . But no one warned us about the silence, no one told us what the silence could hide.
I was just eleven when I first arrived.
My name is Lucas — small, quiet, and painfully shy. I remember clutching my little suitcase like it was the only safe thing I had in this new world . Everything felt massive — the buildings, the noise, the silence between it all. The boys' hostel smelled of dust, sweat, and something I couldn't name. Seniors moved through the halls like they owned the place, their eyes sharp, their presence heavy.
I was led to a room I'd never forget — Room 205. The beginning of my boarding school miseries. As I entered Inside , the pressure hit me like a wave —The tension clung to the air, thick and heavy. The younger ones — their eyes wide with fear , looked at me like they were silently begging me to turn around. The seniors, though... their eyes held something else. A look I couldn't fully place — something between boredom and cruelty. A quiet warning that I was no longer safe. I placed my bag on one empty bed, sat down, and quietly began arranging my things. Then one of the seniors walked over to me.
"Lucas, right?" he asked, his tone calm.
"Y-yes," I replied, my voice barely steady.
"Cute name," he said with a pause, then added, "I like it. Welcome to St. Dorian's Boarding School."
He extended a hand. "I'm John — in my final year and the head of this room. And as you can see, we've got three other guys here."
He gestured behind him. "The tall, handsome one is Austin."
Austin gave a slow grin and said, "Sup, rookie. Don't mess up my side of the room, and we'll be cool."
"The two short ones are Brooklyn and Ethan."
"Hey there," Brooklyn said with a smile.
Ethan raised a hand lazily. "Welcome."
Lucas felt uneasy, but he forced a smile.
"Hi everyone… thanks for the welcome."
Austin climbed down from his bed and walked over to Lucas. He stood close — a little too close — and smirked.
"Well damn… didn't think rookies came in shiny packages," he said, grinning wide.
And Lucas was handsome — with his soft blond hair that caught the light, smooth, glowing skin, and eyes that could rival the moon. He had the kind of mature features that didn't match his age — just eleven, but already carrying a presence that drew attention.
I wasn't sure if I should say thank you or just stay silent — but a few words slipped out anyway.
"Oh… yeah, sure. Thanks. I get that a lot — the whole small and mature thing."
The second I said it, I froze inside. What the hell was that? I was supposed to be the shy, quiet Lucas. Since when did bold sentences start falling out of my mouth?
As I tried to figure out who just spoke for me, Austin chuckled.
"Uhm… oh, I see," he said, turning to John. "I think I like him already."
"Stop making the new kid uncomfortable, Austin," John said as he walked back to his bed.
"Ahh, come on," Austin replied, brushing it off with a smirk. "I'm just saying how I feel."
He placed a hand on my head — casual, but firm enough to make my chest tighten a little.
"Okay, that's enough," John said, his voice firm with authority. "Give the new kid some space so he can arrange his things… Austin, I mean it — back to your corner. Now."
"Ahhh, no fair…" Austin muttered, dragging his feet as he returned to his bed. He flopped down and pulled a pillow over his face in protest.
The room fell into a brief silence after Austin flopped onto his bed, face buried in his pillow. I quietly continued arranging my things, my hands moving just to keep busy. Then Brooklyn broke the silence.
"So..." he said, walking toward me, "first time in boarding school?" He sat down beside me, his tone light but curious.
"Yeah," I nodded, trying to smile. "First time away from home, actually."
"Ah, I see." He leaned back a little. "Well, let me give you a proper intro. I'm Brooklyn — fourteen years old, eighth grade."
There was an awkward silence for a moment.
"Hmm… okay. I'm Lucas — eleven years old, sixth grade," I finally said.
Brooklyn's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Wow. That makes you the youngest in the room."
He looked me over more closely and added, "But honestly, you don't look eleven. If you were just a little taller, I'd think you were in ninth grade."
I grinned a little, and then Brooklyn added,
"Need help unpacking?"
"Oh… no, don't worry about it," I replied quickly.
Then, out of nowhere, Ethan's voice cut through the room.
"Stop trying to be too chummy with the new kid. You'll only end up irritating him."
Brooklyn frowned, clearly annoyed.
"That's Ethan," he muttered, glancing at me. "We're actually classmates — same grade — but he's older than me by a couple of months."
Ethan didn't even look up. "No one asked you to spill my details, genius."
Brooklyn's smile vanished. "I didn't spill
anything. I just gave him the basics — since you're too much of a coward to introduce yourself."
Ethan stood up slowly, his expression cold. "Say that again."
"Coward," Brooklyn repeated without blinking.
Before anything else could be said, John's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Enough!"
They both froze, turning toward him.
"I said stop," John snapped. "Show some damn respect — to yourselves and to this room."
Just then, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and sighed.
"Of course..." he muttered under his breath.
Then louder: "Austin. You're coming with me."
Austin sat up. "Seriously? What for?"
"You'll see. Let's go."
As he headed to the door, John turned back and called, "Brooklyn. Ethan. Over here."
They walked over with obvious reluctance.
"Listen," John said, his voice low and firm. "While I'm gone, make sure the new kid feels welcome. Show him the ropes. And I mean the real ropes — No foul play. I mean it."
Brooklyn nodded. "Yeah. Got it."
Ethan mumbled, "Whatever."
John narrowed his eyes at them one last time before stepping out. Austin followed him, tossing a wink over his shoulder at me before the door clicked shut.
And then, just like that, I was alone in a room with Brooklyn and Ethan.
Something in the silence changed. The energy shifted. It was no longer just "awkward."
It was… something else.
Something colder.
Something watching.
Brooklyn sat down, and for a moment, I saw it — the exact same look he had when I first walked into this room. That sad, uncertain fear. The kind you don't speak out loud, but it clings to your skin like cold air.
I was about to ask him if he was okay, but before I could open my mouth, Ethan's voice cut in — sharp, almost mocking.
"Brooks... why are you shivering?" he said with a sneer. "You're gonna make the newbie think we're haunted or something."
Brooklyn straightened, quickly wiping at his arms. "I wasn't shivering."
Ethan turned to me then, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You — kid," he said, voice low and rough like gravel. "Let me give you a piece of advice."
He leaned in slightly, enough for his words to settle heavy in the air.
"If you want to survive in this room — and in this school — mind your business. Always do what you're told. If you see something that feels wrong… say nothing."
He didn't blink. His tone wasn't threatening. It was worse — it was matter-of-fact.
"Just… keep your head down. Got it?"
I nodded, unsure if it was out of agreement or fear. Maybe both. Ethan's words sank deep, wrapping themselves around my spine like cold fingers.
Mind your business. Obey. Stay silent.
That was the code here.
I sat back on my bed, my suitcase still lying open at the front. This wasn't just a new school or a new chapter — it was something else entirely. Something colder… quieter… darker.
St. Dorian's wasn't what I expected.
I had arrived with a small bag, a nervous smile, and the hope that maybe this place would turn me into something better.
But as the door closed behind John and Austin… I finally understood:
This place didn't build you.
It watched you break.
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