Pine Shore Reform School

The bus slowly turned off the highway onto a narrow road flanked by towering pines. A dense forest stretched out beyond the window, and soon a high fence with metal gates appeared between the trees. A faded sign hung above the entrance: "Pine Shore."

This place was far from the city. A closed institution for teenagers sent here by the decision of parents, child services, or the courts. Some ended up here due to constant conflicts with family; others because of fights, theft, vandalism, and other offenses. Here, they promised behavioral correction, discipline, and a return to a normal life. At least, that was what the official documents claimed.

The bus pulled up in front of the main building. A man in a security uniform was already waiting at the gates. After a brief conversation with the escort, he opened the passage and signaled to the driver where to park.

A few other teenagers were inside the bus. Among them, a sturdy, dark-haired boy with bandaged knuckles stood out—Damian Reed. He sat by the window, staring at the building with a look of discontent. A little further back sat Jayden Cole, lazily twirling a bracelet in his hands. Beside him sat Zoe Bennett, whispering something animatedly to her neighbor.

When the doors opened, the escort was the first to step out, carrying a folder of documents.

— The new arrivals are here? Good. Get out, grab your things, and no unnecessary chatter. This isn't a train station.

The large man cast a dissatisfied glance over the newcomers and led them toward the main building. The lobby smelled of cleaning supplies and old furniture. Behind the registration desk sat a man with graying hair.

— Victor Hale, director of the facility. Are the documents ready? Good. We'll process the arrival now, after which a counselor will show you the residential wing and explain the schedule.

He opened the folder and began verifying the data, his eyes barely lifting from the papers.

— Phones and personal devices are to be surrendered for storage according to the rules. Visits and calls must be coordinated with the administration. The schedule is mandatory for everyone. Disciplinary infractions will be recorded.

Laughter echoed from the hallway. A tall, blonde girl—Vanessa Whitmore—walked past. She cast a brief, evaluating glance toward the newcomers before whispering something quietly to Sydney Parker, who was standing nearby.

Against the wall, clutching a worn notebook, a slender boy in glasses waited in silence—Elias Murphy. He noticed what was happening but quickly looked away.

— Now, before we continue with the processing, a few things need to be clarified. After that, we will assign rooms and introduce you to the other residents.

The director set his pen down beside the documents and finally looked up. His gaze settled on you.

— Very well, let's start with you. Please, come with me. I need to verify your documents, clarify a few details, and explain the basic rules of staying here. The others can wait in the hallway. Let's not drag this out.