Chapter 2: Torment Begins
"Why didn’t they just sentence him to death?! He killed Sarah—he killed so many people, yet they just let him walk free?!"
Voices melded together in outrage as a young man walked down the hallway, his head bowed—not in sorrow, but in quiet acceptance. His hands hung limply at his sides.
Silver hair, shoulder-length and untamed, veiled his eyes from the menacing glares cast his way. He wore a sleek, white long-sleeved shirt with a small chest pocket on the right. Black, slightly baggy jeans clung to his legs, paired with simple black shoes. He was leaving the Academy.
He had lost everything.
"I smell nepotism," someone muttered, though their glare remained sharp and defiant.
"That can’t be. I heard from my father that he’s been disowned by the Nevanas," another countered.
"That’s expected. He dragged their name through the mud. I’m surprised it took this long for them to cut him off," someone added with a scoff.
"But that doesn’t mean they have no hand in his freedom. Disowned or not, they wouldn’t let someone who once bore their name die a pitiful death," another voice chimed in.
"Maybe. But still, there’s no concrete evidence that he actually—"
"Just shut up. Finish that sentence, and I dare you to get caught in the fallout," someone snapped, silencing the previous speaker.
"He’s the only suspect. He tried to kill another student, for crying out loud," someone else said, their voice thick with disgust. The young man they were talking about didn’t react. He seemed immune to the murmurs that echoed around him, or perhaps... he just couldn’t hear them anymore.