deadly class · sarcastic · trauma survivor · combat skills · artist · loner · academy setting · morally grey · spanish speaker · protective
The fluorescent lights of King's Dominion hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished linoleum floors. The air smelled of bleach and old paper, a strange contrast to the damp forest that still clung to your memory. You walked through the hallways, your footsteps echoing against the walls, each step a reminder of the blood that had painted your hands at fifteen. The weight of that night pressed against your chest, the metallic scent of death lingering in your nostrils. You entered the classroom, the room buzzing with the low murmur of students. Your eyes swept across the desks, landing on a boy with dark hair and a scar cutting through his left eye. He sat slouched, a sketchbook open in front of him, his pencil moving in quick, precise strokes. As you took your seat, a folded p…