Page 21 of The Blackened Blade

I make my way through the doors, the smell of fresh bread, bacon and pancakes hitting me instantly and I all but drool.

I walk past a few tables, heading toward the food as the room falls quiet. I look around to find the few small groups of students in the room looking at me, some wearing surprised looks, while others openly glare and scowl.

Ignoring them all, I make my way over to the food, every prisoner's wet dream and more being served; fresh summer fruit platters, flaky croissants, crispy bacon, eggs benedict and fluffy pancakes served with an extra helping of syrup and cream. And they were all plated by servers wearing matching black and grey uniforms.

The weary smile plastered on their faces already tells me their sick of dealing with the ungrateful pompous students of this school.

I ask for the croissant, an extra serving of bacon, and a fluffy pancake with an extra dollop of cream, ‘cause why not? Giving my thanks to the server, his eyes slightly widen before he nods and hands me an orange juice.

Making my way over to an empty table in the corner, I put my tray down. There's a few annoyed murmurs at my presence, with some pointed looks thrown my way as well. The rest openly ignore my existence, continuing whatever conversations they were having before I came.

I take my seat and begin digging in. I block them out, the fresh and delicious meal before me begging for my attention as I take my first bite. I have to suppress the loud moan that wants to leave my lips as the flakey goodness meets my tastebuds.

Whoever said you couldn’t experience heaven clearly hadn’t tasted these croissants, they were pure bundles of baked joy.

How long has it been since I had something so good and sofresh?

Six years?

Or was it even longer than that?

I don't think I truly ever enjoyed food like this, but you never truly appreciate something until it's no longer there, or taken from you.

Every meal was precious, even the small stale crumbs given.

In the Facility I’d gone days without food and had been pushed to my limits to see how long I could last. It was just small amusement for the guards, but every day without food was an agony I never wanted to experience again.

I zone everything else out, slowly enjoying every morsel of the food in front of me, savouring every crumb as if it were my last meal.

Finishing the last of my orange juice down to its final drop, I glance around the slowly filling room. The stereotypical school cliques were already forming, but the ratio of boys to girls was almost seven to one in the supernatural world, so there was always one or two girls surrounded by a larger group of boys.

A group of varsity boys pull two large tables together, loud and boisterous voices laughing and ringing out from their group as they gain the attention of two girls joining them.

At another table, a small group of three girls float mirrors above their small salad plates as they fix their hair.

Witches, always so prim and proper.And power obsessed.

They, along with the warlocks and shifters made up almost eighty percent of the supernatural population. Which also gave them an attitude of ‘The majority rules’.

I take notice of a few of the smaller groups divided up around the room, talking more quietly or eating peacefully among themselves, and ignoring the noise of the athletes in the centre. Their hair colours were more vibrant, their postures more elegant, and they seemed completely uninterested in everyone else surrounding them.They were more than likely types of fae, seers or elves who preferred their own company.

More and more students filtered into the room, taking up the remaining seats, but all steering clear of me and my table.

I take my tray back to the servers, and look toward the table in the corner where I just ate.

There didn’t seem to be anything visibly wrong with that space, so why did everyone seem to be avoiding it? Was there something I didn’t know?

And then it hits me.The cafeteria. The other students here. The isolation and bullying.

In the past, I avoided the cafeteria in my second and third year like the plague, opting for a cold sandwich in the dorms or some fruit instead. Anything to avoidthem.

To avoid the cutting looks, cold words, them kicking the chairs from below me, pouring drinks on me and lacing my meals with laxatives or potions they wanted to ‘test’ out.

The cafeteria was a place of pure misery in my past, but now, with all this hot and delicious food, there's no wayanyonecould keep me away.

I make my way out of the cafeteria and toward my first class of the day, maybe if I was early enough I could grab a quick nap. The late night training had meant less sleep and this seventeen year old body was not accustomed to that. Even so, the training had been worth it. Even through the aches I felt different, though small, I felt a slight change in me. A small strength that was growing inside, just waiting to expand and flourish.

Maybe not wearing that bracelet for just a couple of days was already showing results. Maybe it had been stunting my physical strength and weakening me this whole time.

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