The day after he had been nabbed by strangers, bound and gagged into a van, and had watched his parents fight for him, he woke in his dorm room. It was a school, and now his home. The minimal-standard construction was just that. No decoration. No color.

The walls were a plain plaque-white with sloppy paint. The tiles were brown and full of stained cracks. The sole pieces of furniture were two legless beds bolted to the wall. And the mattresses were as if made from concrete, with thin bear-brown sheets lying across them like forgotten fondant. At least the pillows were soft. 

Desks, made of alder divided the two beds. They were both in decent condition, albeit his was older with more notches. His stool was a lopsided metal bar type with the cushion struggling to stay. The other was a simple wooden one. The only things made well were the lamps. They swiveled upon the desks, and while the opposing lamp provided a dim glow, his own emitted a sun-equivalent light.

The more he stared into the room, the more it seemed to try and appeal to him, but he knew this wasn’t some puppy begging, it was a prison. The windows were large and iron-barred, accompanied by steel doors with four remote locks. And as Dayton looked out the window, his eyes locked onto three sets of electrified fences. He wondered if he could see the currents glow at night.

How can he escape? He knew it wouldn’t be too long before he had the bitter taste of this school’s hell. No student had come in and left the same, if they left at all. He only had today to prepare for his years to come.