DAMIEN'S POV
"Damien!" Laura's voice cut through the house's thick silence. The house help's tone was neutral, but her eyes betrayed curiosity as she stood by the foyer table, holding an envelope.
"You've got a letter," she said, her tone flat but her eyes flickering with a somewhat curiosity.
I trudged downstairs, each step sinking into my bones like lead. The envelope she handed me felt too heavy; my name stamped across it in bold letters. The sender's address glared back: CriddleFord Boys High School. My stomach dropped. I'd tanked that entrance exam on purpose—no way they'd let me in. I ripped it open, the paper tearing loudly, and scanned the words that turned my plan to ash:
___________________________________________________________________________
Office of Admission,
CriddleFord Boys High School,
3rd March, 2024.
Dear Mr. Damien Campbell,
On behalf of the entire CriddleFord Boys community, I am delighted to inform you that the admission committee has voted to offer you admission to CriddleFord Boys High School for the 2024/2025 academic year.
Congratulations!
The admissions committee reviewed each applicant in five areas: the placement examination, standardized test scores, student's transcripts, behavior grades/comment and evaluation. Based on the criteria of the admissions process, the admissions committee is very pleased to offer you admission to CriddleFord Boys High School.
We feel strongly that you possess those academic and personal qualities that makes CriddleFord the vibrant and deeply engaging school that it is. At the same time, we know that you may not yet have made your final decision. The admission process is clearly one of mutual selection, and neither you nor the school you choose will ever be quite the same again. You will help shape that community even as you are shaped by it, not only during your time there, but long after. We urge you to be thoughtful and careful in arriving at your decision, as we have been. For our part, we believe that you and CriddleFord will be a wonderful match. We hope that you come to the same conclusion.
To process your admissions, visit our website and follow these steps:
criddlefordboyshigh.com Click on "Admissions" Enter your full name Use password: bjklzpd
We are thrilled to welcome you to the CriddleFord community. We look forward to what we hope will be the beginning of a lifelong connection with the beauty of this special place and with the warmth of the extended CriddleFord family. Again, heartiest congratulations from all of us at CriddleFord.
Sincerely,
Harold Couther
___________________________________________________________________________
The letter slipped from my hands, and a scream tore out of me. "Ahhhhhh!"
"What the hell's your problem, Damien?" My brother Daemon's voice sliced in, cold and sharp, as he descended the stairs, eyes narrowing.
"Can't we have one damn minute of peace?" Desmond, my other brother grumbled behind him, his irritation practically vibrating.
I couldn't answer—my head was a mess, thoughts spinning into dark corners. CriddleFord wasn't a school; it was a prison dressed up as one, a place that chewed up guys like me and spat out husks. A shiver ran up my spine. Desmond, too quick as always, snatched the letter from the floor and skimmed it.
"Congrats," he said smirking.
"Finally," Daemon muttered, taking a swig from his soda can.
"No way I'm going there," I said, my voice steadier than I felt, though it trembled at the edges.
"Oh, you are going," Daemon shot back, his tone a gavel slamming down. "Dad's word's law—you know that."
Before I could snap back, Darren burst through the front door, suitcase in one hand, phone pressed to his ear with the other. He was mid-sentence, barking orders like the boss he was. "Shirley, cancel everything. I'm not back in California for two weeks." He hung up, passed the suitcase to Laura, and strode into the living room, where the air was thick with tension.
"Hey, guys," he said, loosening his tie, his sharp eyes flicking between us.
"Hey," we muttered back, a grudging chorus.
"What's that?" Darren zeroed in on the letter in Desmond's hand.
"Nothing," I lied, but Desmond was too fast.
"Damien got into CriddleFord," he said, the words a blade in my gut.
Darren's face darkened, frustration pulling his features tight as he turned to me. "I thought you tanked it, Damien."
"I did!" I snapped, staring at the floor. Shame burned in my chest—I couldn't look at him.
"Maybe Dad pulled strings," Desmond said with a shrug. "He's tight with Principal Couther."
Darren's glare shifted to Daemon, anger simmering. "And what's your deal?" Daemon sneered, stepping closer. "It's the same school we went to. Why shouldn't he?"
"Because it's not the same for him, you moron!" Darren growled, fists clenching, his voice low but shaking with everything he didn't say.
Daemon scoffed, shoving past him, the air sparking with unspoken threats. Darren spun and stormed upstairs, his fury shrinking the room. I didn't notice the tears until they hit my cheeks, hot and relentless. I swiped at them, the sting of helplessness biting deep. "This isn't fair," I whispered, but the silence ate it up.
___________________________________________________________________________
7:12 p.m.
That fight was just the beginning. The afternoon looped in my head, each replay darkening the days ahead. I'd thought sixteen meant some control over my life. what a lie—Dad's will was steel, and I was caught in it.
Darren, the engineer, the golden boy turning twenty-five soon, was the only one who cared. But even he couldn't break Dad's grip. Daemon, a total jerk, lived to torture me. A senior at NYU for computer engineering, he thrived on my misery. Desmond, my closest brother, had been my anchor—now a Harvard freshman, he'd turned his back, shrugging at my fate.
Our mansion was a gilded cage in a snobby, rich neighborhood—full of people who sneered at anyone not like them. My friends, Izzie and Jake, had been my lifeline since we were kids. Now, with high school tearing us apart, even that felt fragile.
I skipped dinner. Dad would've preached about CriddleFord—its sprawling countryside campus, its prestige—and I couldn't take it. I crawled into bed, chasing sleep, but the darkness sharpened my fears. When I drifted off, it wasn't peace—it was a nightmare, CriddleFord's rural walls closing in.
I woke up gasping, dread thick and suffocating. My nightmare wasn't coming—it was here.