Chapter 2 - The Gala of Glass
Friday arrived with a suffocating humidity that turned the gala preparations into a marathon of misery. The dining hall was transformed into a glittering cavern of opulence. Maren, her uniform damp with sweat, moved like a shadow beneath the towering crystal chandeliers.
Everywhere she looked, she saw the arrogance of the elite—the way they didn't see her, the way they stepped over her cleaning cart as if it were an inanimate object. She was a piece of furniture, a background prop in their curated lives.
She found herself in the corner of the hallway, clutching a trash bag, when the screech tore through the air.
"My watch is gone!" Chloe screamed.
The reaction was instantaneous. Headmaster Ellison, a man whose spine was made of cheap plastic, scrambled toward her. Maren saw the trap before it snapped shut. She saw the way Chloe’s eyes tracked her—not with confusion, but with calculated intent. Chloe didn't care about the watch. Chloe wanted a target.
"She was lurking," Chloe accused, her finger pointed like a blade. "Search her."
Maren felt the world tilt. She saw the phones rising, a hundred tiny lenses capturing her humiliation for the digital abyss. She thought of her baby. She thought of the thin gold chain beneath her shirt, the only thing she had left of the man she had loved. She felt a surge of protectiveness that bypassed her fear.
"I didn't take it," Maren said, her voice trembling but audible.
Then came the push. The bag was yanked, her balance lost, and the floor rushed up to meet her. The impact was a symphony of agony. Her hip hit the hard stone, her shoulder took the brunt, and her belly—her beautiful, precious, vulnerable belly—wasjarred by the fall.
She screamed. It wasn't a ladylike sound; it was the raw, primal sound of a mother sensing a threat to her child.
"Call an ambulance," she whispered, her vision tunneling. The world became a blur of white linen and horrified faces that quickly turned into indifferent ones. Nobody moved. Nobody cared.
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And then, the sound began.
It started as a low vibration in the foundation, a tremor that made the crystal glasses on the tables rattle in unison. The windows groaned under the pressure of a shifting atmosphere. Outside, the world of Briarwell Academy was being systematically dismantled.
