The Demon Headmaster
Ep. 1, Ch. 1
"I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to school," said I edge towards the door and flicking my bag over my shoulders. My father tried to reach for me—I suppressed a flinch. The outstretched, veiny hand that has been my tormentor. Not today, though. I was too quick for him and ducked out the door.
On my way to my new school, I calmed myself, repeating a mantra of we can do this, and we'll be fine. But nothing would be fine; nothing was ever just fine. That soon became apparent as a sea of navy jackets marched into the school. No talking. No laughing. No smiling. They seemed to follow invisible rules of absolute discipline and sluggishness, like they weren't the inhabitants of their own body. The glass building seemed to stand over everyone, like a master of their innermost secrets.
I was lined up at the front gate, marked for new admissions, when a redhead moved past, calling to her friend. It just hit me that it may be more difficult for me to make friends at Hazelbrook Academy. I've never been good at it; keeping to myself at other schools. If anyone got too close, I usually shut down and push them away. But I promised myself I would try this time—I was personally offered a place, and my parents seemed unusually interested in my education. I don't know what has brought this newfound attention on me, but I know it won't last. I don't know which I'd prefer.
As the "my Charlotte's been waiting on the waiting list for months" person huffed and left, I was finally at the front, and broke out of my daydream.
"And who might you be?" I glanced at the deputy headmistress; a squeaky yet confident woman, with a slick-back bun and looks like she's sucking on a lemon. Maybe she's one of those people that hate kids and decided, hey, let's work in a school filled with them.
"Casey Heatherington, Ma'am."
"Ah yes. It's good to have you here. He didn't know if you would come. He will be very pleased…" Her smile was crooked and off-putting, eyes triumphant, yet distant and dilating like in a movie when someone gets possessed by a demon. Unnerved, I stepped back.
"H-he?"
"The Headmaster of course. He is waiting for you in the office. So inspirational. He's really turned the school around. Well, what are you waiting for, girl? Head up. The Welcomers will sort out your uniform afterwards. Welcome to Hazelbrook Academy, Casey Heatherington. I feel you will find a home here."
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I stopped at the door, breathed deeply, and lifted my knuckles to knock. The door slowly opened before I even touched it. As I walked in, I took in the chocolate cabinets and blinds swaying like tentacles ready to snatch its prey. He was sitting behind a large mahogany table. The first thing I noticed were his round-rimmed shaded glasses. It hid his eyes, making it impossible for anyone to tell what he was thinking. His face gave nothing away, and something told me he liked it that way. That he did have things to hide. I knew he was looking at me when I suddenly felt an immense coldness. I was trapped and suffocating. We stood there for another minute, and I realized he was waiting for me to speak first. Now the disciplined students make sense—he liked control. Control and order, from the state of his room and robotic appearance. I cleared my throat.
"Good morning, Sir. I am Casey Heatherington and was sent to you by the Deputy." I moved forward to his desk, and stretched out my long fingers, offering my hand. Father always insists that I greet people this way. It establishes a certain mutual respect, intimacy, and professionalism.
The Headmaster titled his head down, but didn't shake my hand.
"Yes, I am aware. But my question is, are you aware?."
I felt my head race. What!? Of course, I'm myself. I know I'm myself. What's he getting at?
"Um, I'm sorry? Sir."
He stiffly took off his glasses and stood up, rounding the table to face me without the barrier. As he got closer, I could see his eyes glinting. His eyes. They were black. So black. Like space. Nothingness. Death. When I looked away, I realized I had been holding my breath. I watched his feat instead. Polished black shoes, shiny enough that I might be able to see my reflection if I looked close enough.
"Look into my eyes." Suddenly, I felt an explosive tug. Look into my eyes. It took everything from me to resist. I felt my whole head burn. What the hell? I whimpered and grasped my burning head like I could protect it or release the pressure. But nothing helped. It was an unstoppable, raging fire. My knees buckled and I keeled over, soon writhing on the floor, clutching my head that thumped in agony with each heartbeat.
Then, it stopped. As quick as the pain came, it receded like a puppy who just tore up its owner's shoes. I felt an arm grab one of my hands that was clutching my head still and pulled me up.
I stammered, "I-I I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I think I need to go."
When he spoke, it was not demanding or forceful, but a quiet demand. "Blake will have your uniform and will take you around the school. Afterwards, the deputy will supervise your entrance exam."
I turned to the door, just wanting to get away from a suffocating presence. It was like the air was clumped and jagged—it hurt to breathe. His voice cut through, "I know you will succeed here. We will do what we can to help you become a great asset."
Without making eye contact again, I left with more confusion then I came with and a headache.