The Tormentors

Liessa

Beep, beep, beep. The shrill sound of my alarm slices through the quiet, pulling me from the shallow remnants of sleep. With a groan, I slam it shut. Today is the day — Milestone High. The name alone feels like both a promise and a warning. A rush of something dark and electric pulses through me, excitement laced with anxiety. I force myself out of bed, my one-room apartment's cold floors biting at my feet. It's a small place, tucked into the shadowy corners of LA, and it took a hell of a lot of convincing to even get it. The old man who owns it took pity on me, I think. Lucky me, right?

The mirror in the cramped bathroom greets me with a reflection I barely recognize anymore. The dark circles under my eyes look like shadows of a past I can’t escape, no matter how far I’ve run. But none of that matters today. Today is a fresh start. I repeat that to myself as I pull on my new uniform — maroon pleated skirt brushing mid-thigh, crisp white shirt, tie perfectly knotted, blazer sharp and clean. On the outside, I almost look like I belong here. Almost.

My reflection stares back, but I avoid meeting its eyes. I can’t dwell on the sleepless nights, on the part-time job that barely lets me scrape by, or on the fake documents stacked neatly in my bag. Lies, all of it. But necessary ones. They had to be.

“Breathe, Liesaa,” I whisper. “Just get through today. One step at a time.”

The thought echoes in my mind as I leave the apartment, locking the door with a deliberate click. The streets are quiet this early, a dull haze still clinging to the city. Milestone High looms just a few blocks away, its reputation bigger than the school itself. It’s a place for the elite, the privileged, and here I am, slipping in through the cracks. A scholarship student, one of the lucky ten. Only, nothing about my life has ever felt lucky.

My heart races as the school comes into view, its towering gates stretching high above me. Milestone High. The name seems to hum with power, as if it's alive. I hand the guard my ID and he waves me through, the gate creaking open like the maw of some great beast, ready to swallow me whole.

As I step across the threshold, the weight of the place settles on my shoulders. A new beginning, maybe. Or maybe the start of something far darker. Either way, there’s no turning back now.