Episode 2 -Unwritten Rules
466 Words
CHAPTER 6 — RULES NOT WRITTEN DOWN
The next morning, Blackwood Academy looked the same — polished, imposing, calm — but to Elara, every corner felt changed. She kept the scrap of paper safe deep inside her notebook, folded tight as a secret burning against her palm. Every glance, every whisper, every sudden silence as she walked past made her wonder: Who knows? Who watched? Who sent the note?
Kai caught up with her near the fountain, stepping close and lowering his voice instantly, eyes scanning around. “You were with him yesterday. Room 304. Everyone’s talking.” His tone wasn’t just curious — it was frightened. “Elara… I told you before: stay far away from Damian Blackwood. People who get close end up… different. Or gone.”
“I only took a wrong turn,” she said quietly, but her hand pressed harder against the notebook. “And not everything people say about him is simple truth.”
“Here, what people say is the only safety you get.” Kai leaned closer, urgent. “There are rules not written anywhere — don’t go West Wing after three; don’t ask about old records; never question Valdez or the Council… and never be paired with Damian for anything. Break them… and the school starts remembering you the wrong way.”
Before Elara could ask more, heels clicked sharp and deliberate on stone. Zara Montemayor stepped into their path, uniform flawless, smile polished and cold as glass, her group falling in neatly behind her like guards.
“Interesting — the scholarship girl thinks detention makes her special,” Zara said, voice clear enough for nearby students to hear. “Or maybe she just likes dangerous company.” Her eyes flicked over Elara, sharp and dismissive. “Remember your place, Cruz. Blackwood doesn’t keep people who forget boundaries.”
She moved on without waiting for an answer, her circle trailing like a shadow.
Elara’s jaw tightened, but she held her tongue — exactly the lesson they expected her to learn. Then she saw him: Damian stood high on the wide stairs near the entrance, watching everything unfold from above. He didn’t step in, didn’t defend, didn’t look away — just observed, as if testing exactly how she handled it.
When their eyes met briefly, he gave almost no sign… only a tiny, almost invisible tilt of the head — like saying: See? This is how it works.
Later that day, between classes, Elara found her locker slightly ajar. Inside, nothing stolen — but taped to the shelf was a faded old list of names, handwritten, with one line underlined in faint pencil:
Expelled / Transferred — No further record kept
And scrawled at bottom:
Rules aren’t made to be read. They’re made to be obeyed… or erased.
- Writer
