Black Elm College | 18+

Chapter 1: Elsie

I watch the trees go by through the taxi window, my hand clutching my phone.

I can't decide whether I'm scared or impatient. I guess I'm mostly nervous; although I didn't really have a choice about leaving my old college in the middle of my first year and coming here, it also represents an opportunity for me to build a life away from my family. My parents will still have a considerable influence on this school, but at least nobody will have heard the rumors that made everyone hate me before we even met.

I feel my mood darken and quickly put on headphones and my playlist. I smile to the music.

The driver looks at me in the rear-view mirror and frowns before turning his attention back to the road. Or rather, the overgrown track.

I am lost in thought until the door opens, letting cold air into the car.

"We've arrived, Ms. Hall." Michael, my family's driver, says. "Your parents will see you next holiday."

"Tell them I'm looking forward to it." I smile. I know my sarcasm will annoy them to no end.

He gives me a cold look, hands me my small travel bag and is gone in a heartbeat.

I look up at the building in awe. A huge white mansion surrounded by trees is apparently my new school. A large staircase leads up to a double doorway surmounted by dark flags and an equally disproportionate clock. 5 o'clock.

Not wanting to freeze in the cold winter atmosphere or be late, I climb the stairs and open the double doors when no one answers my knock.

Once again I am amazed as I take in my surroundings. Black marble on the floor, high white walls with dark portraits, marbling and gilding, a black fluffy carpet covering a double staircase. Occasional chatter in the distance breaks the silence.

I quickly snap out of it, spot a gold plaque with directions - one of which reads "Director's Office" - and hurry up the stairs. I am looking around, searching for another plaque, when I bump into someone.

"Excuse me, I wasn't paying attention." I quickly apologize, stumbling back.

A tall, broad man with curly, pitch-black hair and a furrowed brow looks at me as if I had just killed his puppy. His entire body screams violence and nastiness.

"Apologizing is not enough. You shouldn't have made the mistake in the first place." He said in a low voice. "Looking in front of you when you walk is basic logic."

Wow, this guy... "I said sorry, no need to be a jackass."

"What did you just say?" He asks, his tone dangerous.

He is now standing at full height, glaring at me. Yes, he looks scary. So what? Does that allow him to behave like a drama queen?

"I don't like to repeat myself." I sass back.

He grabs me by the collar of my jumper and pulls me up on my toes, our faces inches from each other. He glares, I glower back, refusing to cower.

"You're obviously new, bitch." He says slowly, his eyes tracing my wavy blonde hair, then my baggy hoodie and jeans.

"So I'm going to let it go for now. Next time you see me, you won't know where all that sass went."

I start to respond, but this time I hold back.

After a few more seconds of this staring contest, he drops me and bumps into me hard as he walks past me down the stairs.

I straighten my clothes and knock, my heart pounding.

"Come in." A woman's voice commands.

I obey and step into an office lit by a chandelier. From floor to ceiling, from shelves to paperweights, all surfaces and objects seem to be made of light gray wood. A large French window behind a modern desk brightens the atmosphere.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Hall. Sit down." The director says, pointing to a chair. She appears to be in her mid-thirties, with straight black hair that falls to her shoulders, black trousers, a black blazer and a black top, black stilettos, a polite smile on her lips. All in all, she manages the miracle of looking like a businesswoman who can swim with the sharks, but who seems welcoming rather than tyrannical or judgmental.

She puts down a pile of documents and looks me in the eye.

"I've only spoken to your parents, so I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am Ms. Abner, co-director of Black Elm College. Nice to meet you."

I nod and smile back politely.

"Although Mr Stamford and I cover all areas," she continues, "I am the one who most often handles the administrative side of things, such as welcoming new students. We will discuss your case first and then I will explain the way this school works. Normally at least one of your legal tutors should be with you for this information. However, this is not a problem as all the necessary documents have already been signed.

She takes a folder from a drawer marked 'Elsie Hall, Problematic Behavior'. I sigh.

Of course.

She gives me a disapproving look and goes over some details with me such as date of birth, old college, major, and so on.

"Ms. Hall, you were sent here because of your problematic behavior. Are you aware of that?"

There it is.

"I am." I answer stiffly.

She starts reading. "You attempted once and succeeded the second time in burning the car of a person you knew, the incendy causing them physical injuries. You also hit several times a 16-year-old kid, threatened, bullied them which led to a suicide attempt on their part. And you were also the cause of the suicide attempt of a another kid, a young girl this time." She looks up from the file. "Anything to say about that?"

Ab-so-lutely.

"No." I articulate with difficulty, forcing a smile although the two letters burn my tongue.

As much as I would like to scream the truth, both my parents are members of the Senate. To get me into this situation, they passed a law that pushed back the age of majority by five years for people who were deemed a danger to society. They called in favors, slaved and campaigned relentlessly for two years. When they went so far as to risk their political careers and their image - which is really all they care about - to get their way, there is not anything I can do, furthermore in the position I am in. To deny these allegations would only make me look like a liar.

Everything about these events used to make me want to scream in frustration and strangle my parents, but it's not enough to get me down anymore. It has been for a long time, but somehow I got over it. I won't let them win by taking away my joy. I still look forward to this school.

"All right." Ms. Abner closes the file before placing it on the table. Her tone is formal, inexpressive, but still barely hiding her coldness. I can't blame her, if I were her, I would loathe myself.

"Let's talk about how this school works. What do you know of Black Elm College?"

"Not much: just the name and the fact that it's a disciplinary boarding school."

"Not much indeed," she replies with a smile that I know she doesn't mean. "Black Elm College is indeed a strict establishment that accepts students with disciplinary problems, but they only represent a quarter of our population and that is not what the college is about."

She pauses. I fidget, a bad feeling twisting my stomach.

"Did you see the full name of the school?"

Well, even if I hadn't, she said it more than once. I didn't mention that I understood English, but didn't find it necessary. When I look at her with a puzzled expression, she replies:

"Black Elm College, academic and BDSM education." I don't react right away, too taken aback; she continues. "Every student here is in a BDSM relationship with another student. This has a very positive impact on all of our pupils. Respect and empathy are at the heart of these submissive/dominant dynamics, not to mention the discipline and responsibility it instills."