Page 6 of Missing

We needed someone who could stand in the eye of our storm and not only survive but thrive, someone who could match our intensity and fire. Those three bitches may have served their purpose for tonight, but they would never make the cut for our true fourth member – the one who would complete us and elevate us to even greater heights of power.

Chapter 6

Harper Hillstrom

The silence of the morning gnawed at me like a rat to wood. God, it was too quiet—almost eerily so compared to the constant chaos of my old place with Mum. I rolled out of bed, muscles protesting, and stumbled to the bathroom for a shower. The water was scalding, a liquid flame cascading over my skin, but it was a sweet burn, washing away the grime of yesterday.

"New day, new hell," I muttered to myself as I scrubbed vigorously, trying to erase the memories that clung to me more stubbornly than the suds. Cleanliness was next to godliness, they said. If only it were that easy to scrub away the past.

Turning off the water, I grabbed a towel, rubbing my hair into a frizzy mess before blow-drying it until it lay flat and obedient. My long black strands—a stark contrast to the white towel—felt like the only part of me that could be tamed.

With a sigh of resignation, I picked up the first uniform. Three identical sets were given to me, stiff and unyielding, the fabric smelling of crisp linen.

Slipping on the skirt, I cringed at how it clung to my hips, the pleats flaring out just enough to make it indecently short. It barely covered my ass, and I couldn’t help but feel exposed, scrutinised. "Jesus, do they want us to learn, or parade around like show ponies?" I grumbled under my breath.

The white button-up top was no better. It hugged my frame, accentuating the fact that my body was more angles and bones than curves. Lifelong malnutrition will do that to you—turn you into a string bean, all limbs and no flesh. Yet somehow, by some miracle or cruel joke, my boobs had managed not to abandon ship entirely. They held on, barely but enough, giving me a semblance of womanhood. This wasn't me, but it would have to do—for now.

My hands were steady as they pulled the knee-high socks over my calves, the fabric stretching tight, too clean and white against my skin. The kitten heels came next, their innocuous click swallowed up by the too-thick carpet. "Damn," I muttered, eyeing my elongated figure in the mirror. I felt like a skyscraper in a town of cottages, standing at 5 foot 9 without the damn heels. With them? A giantess in a land of elves—ridiculous, awkward.

"Could be worse," I reasoned aloud, the sound of my own voice grounding me. "Could be tripping over your own two feet in flats." I bent down, adjusting the straps of the heels, trying not to look too long at how the skirt barely covered my ass. It was an uphill battle, finding dignity in this getup.

A quick pass of mascara gave my lashes length they didn't need, and light coverage makeup veiled the stubborn shadows beneath my eyes—a feeble attempt to paint over the sleepless nights and stress etched onto my face. As I stared into the mirror, I couldn't help but let out a snort.

"Alright, Harper," I said, smacking my cheeks lightly, the sound echoing sharply in the silence. "Time to face the music—or whatever freaky shit this school has in store."

A rhythmic tapping startled me from the maze of my thoughts, a staccato interruption to the silence that had become my only companion in this strange new room. My green eyes flicked to the door, curiosity piqued, as I wondered who could be seeking me out so early.

"Harper Hillstrom?" The voice was light, almost musical, and when I swung the door open, it belonged to a girl with a smile as bright as summer itself.

"Hey, yeah, that's me." I leaned against the door frame, taking in the petite figure before me. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, I'm here to help you," she chirped, extending a hand that seemed too delicate for the world. "I'm Melody Ryan. They've assigned me to show you around for the day, sort of like your personal shadow."

"Melody..." I echoed, shaking her hand, feeling a surprising strength in her grip. It was a name that suited her—airy and sweet. And damn, she was beautiful in an effortless way that made something twist in my chest.

"Thanks, I... really appreciate it." My words stumbled out awkwardly, the sincerity of my gratitude getting tangled up with the sudden awareness of her proximity.

"Of course!" Her enthusiasm didn't wane, and she spun on her heel with a grace that made me feel clumsy by comparison. "Shall we get started?"

As we walked down the hallway, I trailed a bit behind, watching how the sunlight streaming through the windows danced in her short blonde hair. The sound of our footsteps tapping away on the hardwood floor.

"Everyone's a little lost on their first day," she said over her shoulder, her voice a soft reassurance that seemed to echo off the walls.

"Feels like it'll take more than a day to get un-lost in this place," I reply.

"Oh, you'll see, it's not so bad once you get the hang of it!" Her optimism was infectious; I found the corner of my mouth ticking up into a reluctant smile.

"Guess I'm lucky to have you as a guide then," I admitted, watching the way her face lit up at the compliment.

The moment we stepped out of the building Melody's energy was a live wire, crackling with the kind of enthusiasm that could power the gothic spires and iron-wrought gateways of Oakland Harbour. Her hand swept out before us like a maestro conducting an orchestra as she unveiled the grandeur of the school.

"First off, behold the heart of our academic endeavours," she announced, her voice a bright chime in the cavernous corridor. We entered what must have been the main building, its vaulted ceilings arching overhead like the ribcage of some ancient beast. Sunlight poured through stained glass windows, painting the polished wooden floors with a kaleidoscope of colours.

"Damn," I breathed out, taking in the contrast of old-world architecture housing sleek modern classrooms. Touchscreens flanked blackboards, and I could see 3D projectors nestled amidst the traditional décor. "It's like Hogwarts got a tech upgrade."

"Exactly!" Melody clapped her hands together, delighted. "Now, this way to where you'll probably spend most of your life for the foreseeable future."

I followed her shadow as she navigated the labyrinthine halls with ease, pointing out each room with an anecdote or a piece of advice. "Mrs. Alder in room 202 adores it when you actually read the assigned texts. And here—" She paused at a door adorned with elaborate ironwork. "—is the library; think of it as your sanctuary or your battlefield, depending on powers."

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