The soft autumn breeze slowly crept through my cracked window as I paced around my room. The morning rays illuminated my small, cozy room, highlighting my almost barren space. My small Bluetooth speaker whispered classical music as I put on a maroon hoodie and black jeans. Today was the first day of school, my senior year of high school. I should've been excited, like any other senior on a day like this, but I had the unfortunate situation of being the new kid in town.

I had recently moved to Rosewood Creek, Montana, current population: 780. Rosewood was one of those quintessential small towns, complete with a Main Street and gorgeous mountains in the backdrop. I honestly didn’t have any issues with the place, but the timing was definitely a bummer. I had spent my summer confining myself to my room, barely venturing out into town, except to buy groceries with my parents. Now that summer was over, I couldn’t cling to my room for safety anymore.

“Remy, breakfast is ready! Hurry up or you’ll be late,” my mom shouted from downstairs.

“Coming! Just give me a second,” I yelled back.

Quickly popping into the bathroom, I gave my hair a once over, making sure the bouncing brown curls were styled in the right place. I wasn’t a vain person, but I always needed to make sure my hair looked good. It was just a pet peeve of mine. I took a small dab of curling cream and tossed around a couple of annoying strands that were fighting to stray out of place.

When I was pleased with the curls, I completed my final outfit check for the day. Subscribing to basic, but I honestly didn’t care. I’ve always heard first impressions were important, but I couldn’t care less about what others thought of me.

Checking my stubborn curls, once again prompted me to wonder about its origin. I really wished I knew where my hair came from. I considered myself an average guy, towering at a whopping 5’5’’, skinny with no muscles to speak up. My dark brown skin was sprinkled with freckles on my face. I could never really pin down my ethnicity—definitely biracial but could never confirm it. I wondered what my ancestry could be, but I didn’t want to ask my parents for those expensive ancestry tests. It just wasn’t worth the trouble at this point.

“Remy!” My name burst the random tangent in my head.

“Sorry, I’m coming now,” I answered.

Quickly hurrying into the bedroom, I grabbed the worn, outdated white headphones and faded black backpack off my bed. Before I left my room, I made a stop by the dark, walnut dresser next to the door. Glancing down at the row of orange containers, tiny silent reminders that I was different from everyone else, always broken. I opened the obnoxious safety lids and took my bitter pills, before chucking the last pill bottle into my bag and heading for the stairs.

The brightness of the sunlight flooded my eyes as I skipped downstairs. Someone had opened all the blinds in the house. Our living room still had moving boxes scattered around, displaying the slow progress we’ve made unpacking them, my family opting to ignore their much needed attention. As I walked down the Victorian-style hallway, the sound of the wooden pine floors creaking carried throughout the house, announcing my presence to the first floor. I arrived at the tiny breakfast nook, spotting my mom, Tina, sitting with her morning coffee. The waffling steam trails escaping her mug sent a pleasant aroma to my nose. A small plate of fresh scrambled eggs rested next to her computer on the table.

“Finally, he shows his face!” Tina smiled, adjusting her brown glasses. She had opted to go with a comfortable look, wearing a light purple sweater and cozy pajama pants.

“Good morning,” I said, sitting down to the plate of waffles and scrambled eggs waiting for me. I wasted no time digging in.

“Well, it’s about time! I thought I was going to have to pull you out of bed,” my other mom, Beth, chided from the kitchen.

“Sorry, I was just grabbing my things for school,” I Iied.

Beth rolled her eyes, strolling to sit down at the table. “Remy, we know you were doing your hair!” She chuckled, adjusting herself in the chair before digging into her meal. We all continued to chat and eat, the three of us together, enjoying our tranquil breakfast in the bright morning sunshine.

Tina and Beth have been my adoptive parents for the past five years. They’re a cute couple and I am honestly grateful to have them. After being returned to the orphanage for a second time, I was truly terrified that I would be alone for the rest of my life.

I’d heard the story many times—Tina and Beth had met through mutual friends and were married the following year. They were in their late thirties and had decided to try for a baby after their wedding. Years of attempts to conceive through IVF treatment were unsuccessful. Adoption was considered, but they didn’t know where to start the process. Tina’s paper, the Star-Times, sent her to an orphanage to write a story about the children, and that’s how we met. After she finished her interview tour with the orphanage, she made sure I went home with her that very same day. I had been very nervous to be in a new home, but Beth and Tina made everything easy, like we were all supposed to be together from the beginning.

Unfortunately, a noisy cell phone ringtone interrupted our family time.

“Sorry, I have to get this,” Beth muttered as she quickly exited the kitchen to her office space.

We had moved to Rosewood Creek for Beth’s new job in real-estate development. Her company planned to open a flagship office in Rosewood Creek and wanted Beth to manage it. At first, she said no, not wanting to disrupt our life back in Atlanta. But after Tina and I convinced her, she finally accepted the promotion. Tina was able to become a freelance reporter for her newspaper, and it didn’t really bother me to change school systems. I had spent my entire life moving schools nearly every year, so it wasn’t anything new to me.

“Do you want me to drive you to school?” Tina asked.

“No, I’d rather walk.”

“Do you even know how to get there? You’ve barely left your room since we got to town. I just finished writing my article so...”

“No, I'm fine,” I said, cutting her off.

“No arguing with you I guess.” Tina shrugged her shoulders and returned her attention to her laptop.

“Thanks. See you later,” I rose from the table and placed the plates into the crowded sink, waving goodbye as I headed out the back screen door.

Staring at the vast open backyard, the silent forest almost blocking my view of the veiled mountain tops in the backdrop. I made my way around the house to the dirt road that led in the direction of town. I attempted to get my bearings of where I needed to go. I actually didn’t actually quite know where I was going, but I could always rely on good ole' Google maps.

The smell of the outdoors and the soft sounds of the breeze had a calming effect on me as I walked to school. This was definitely a complete change from city life. As I passed still, quiet houses, I studied each one's unique style and charm, all with ornate features prominent in the architecture’s designs. I rounded the bend of the street, exiting the dirt road, rough gravel abruptly changing into a smooth asphalt surface.

The school was only ten minutes down the road, according to my directions. The weather broadcast was spot on for the chilly Monday morning, as the cool breeze nipped at my face. I tugged my hands into my maroon hoodie, reassuring myself that I had picked the right outfit for today. Cars rushed by every so often as I headed further into the main part of town, the fading of soft, quiet scenes of nature melting into the hard, loud industrial complexes.

“Be careful, there is something wrong with this town,” a voice floated through my head.

I stopped in my tracks. I can’t deal with this again. Please don’t start again, I thought, shaking my head. I continued walking, hoping I was just imagining it.

“There are others here. Be careful, don’t get caught,” the voice drifted into my head again.

Fuck.

I was hearing the voices again. To be clear, only one voice, but I needed to stop it as soon as possible. I tore open my backpack, rummaging through spiral notebooks until I saw the pill bottle. I took it out and quickly swallowed two small purple ovals, hoping that it would be enough. While my backpack was still open, I took my headphones out and plugged them into my phone. I nervously scrolled through my phone, clicking on my chill playlist to calm myself down. “Stressed Out” by Twenty-One Pilots began to play, reflecting my mood as I continued to walk to school.

“Be careful, don’t get caught…” the voice slowly faded away.

The sound of my music drowned out the eerie voice. A pounding migraine replaced the trouble in my head. I tried to tune out the pain and kept walking.

Ever since we moved to town, the voice had reappeared again. I was afraid to mention it to my parents because I didn’t want them to worry. My medication had been working before, but now it seemed like it wasn’t anymore. Maybe the new environment and the stress of moving was a factor. I didn't really know. If the voice kept talking to me, I would definitely need to get my prescription changed.

I continued my walk until I reached the brick-faced school building, following the chain-link fence to the circular drive filled with yellow busses dropping off boisterous students. The sidewalk became a sea of students, forcing me to weave in and out of friend groups, trying to keep my head as low as possible.

I headed toward the side entrance gate and followed along the outside corridor until I arrived at the center building. From there, I walked inside, making a sharp right towards the first set of stairs I could find. I knew my class was on the second floor because of the room number, 216.

Arriving on the second floor, I steadily made my way down the crowded hallway. 210, 211, 212, I continued following the long pathway, which was lined with faded cobalt lockers, hoping I was heading in the right direction. I finally reached the end of the hallway and found... classroom 215.

What the fuck? Where else could it be?

I always hated asking anyone for help. I never liked striking up a casual conversation with a stranger just for my convenience—I’d rather suffer alone than talk to someone. Turning around, I made a full stop in front of a set of lockers to recheck the schedule on my phone. Scrolling frantically, I attempted to search my email for any map of the school complex, but I wasn’t having any luck.

“Hey,” a voice directly in front of me greeted.

I looked up to find a boy standing in front of me. He was slightly taller than me, with light tan skin and burnt auburn brown hair slicked down into a fade. His bright blue polo shirt with khaki slacks was complemented by a small gold lock hanging from a chain around his neck; his fashion sense was definitely better than mine. My gaze met his hazel eyes, and I decided that he seemed approachable.

“Hey dude, you're standing in front of my locker.” He pointed behind me.

The statement woke me from my thoughts as I shuffled out of his way quickly. I couldn't believe I was so awkward. I looked back at my phone, trying to find any hope. The loud click of the locker shutting drew me from my useless search, turning to find him standing next to me.

“Are you lost?” he asked with a friendly smile.

“Yes, I’m new here,” I answered with a small defeat, caving to the conversation.

“What? No way! Cool!” he blurted out, his enthusiasm drawing some attention in the crowded hallway. “I can help you. The name is Kash!” He stuck his hand out, a cheesy grin plastering his face.

I shook his hand. “Remy.”

“Remy, nice name. We never get anyone new to town. This is so cool,” he jabbered on, scratching the back of his head. Kash was strange but genuine in a weird sense.

“What do you have for first period?” He pointed to my phone.

“I think it’s English, room 216,” I said, rechecking the schedule on my email.

“What?! That’s my class too.” He beamed. I found his mannerism slightly funny—he got easily amused at tiny things.

“That must mean you’re a senior, right?” Kash pulled my arm, shuffling me back down the hallway I just came from.

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” I sighed depressingly. The mention of that word was a harsh reminder that I was going to be a senior in a school I had never set foot in.

Kash continued chatting, dropping small facts about the school and the town. He liked to talk, a lot. I politely nodded my head with the flow of the conversation, following him along the hallway, trying to not get separated by the herd of students around us.

We continued to walk in the opposite direction, rounding the corner to a partially hidden hallway. As we wrapped around, I saw an elongated hallway with even more lockers. Why was this school so complicated? I definitely would have been lost if it wasn’t for Kash. I tried to listen to Kash as he rambled on when a loud bang stopped us in our tracks.

I turned and saw a boy lying on the ground next to the lockers, blood dripping from his bruised face.

....What the fuck?

A/N Thank you for checking out my story! What do you guys think of the first chapter? Welcome to Rosewood Creek! Let the madness begin! (❤ ω ❤)🤣😅