Chapter 4 4.

After school hours, Grace found herself seated in the detention hall, eager to use the time to tackle her math assignment. However, the noise level was anything but conducive to concentration, making it nearly impossible for her to focus.

Her fervent desire was for Jayden Alcott to appear and restore some semblance of quiet. This time, she even found herself silently praying for the prefect's arrival.

Yet, it wasn't Jayden who walked in to take over, but rather Mr. Bradley.

Grace was taken aback, perplexed as to why a teacher had been assigned this duty instead of one of the prefects. Was Mr. Thompson still subjecting Mr. Bradley to this task as a result of what happened on Thursday? She asked herself this question, hoping her intuition would prove her wrong.

As the roll call concluded, junior students were dismissed, while the seniors remained in detention until 5:00 pm. Grace, however, found herself alone as the sole senior serving detention, left in the company of Mr. Bradley, who was engrossed in grading assignments. His head remained down, hardly lifting to acknowledge her presence.

"Mr. Bradley," Grace tentatively began, hoping to use this opportunity to apologize once more. "I'm truly sorry for everything. I hope your presence here today isn't connected to what transpired on Thursday?"

"Not at all," he responded. "You need not concern yourself with that matter any longer."

"But, Mr. Bradley," Grace found herself drawn from her seat, standing before his desk. The urge to prompt him to discuss the issue was strong. However, when Mr. Bradley lifted his head, meeting her gaze for the first time, her words caught in her throat. If she had thought Mr. Bradley's eyes were mesmerizing, she had chosen the wrong adjective. His eyes were enchanting, an uncommon shade of blue that, up close, seemed to transport one to another realm.

Startled, Grace backed away, breathless. The young teacher looked at her questioningly.

"I'm so sorry," she stammered.

"I understand. Please return to your seat," he instructed, gesturing to where she had been sitting.

With a nod, Grace complied, silence enveloping them. Unsettled emotions churned within her, leaving her feeling strangely destabilized. Why was she suddenly uncomfortable around Mr. Bradley? She had never felt such unease with a teacher before. Why today? Why now?

Making a mental note to avoid him from that point on, they sat in silence until the clock on the wall signaled 5:00 pm. Grace hastily departed, making her way to her locker to retrieve essential textbooks she planned to study. In her hurry, she didn't even pause to stash them in her backpack, fearing Mr. Bradley might exit the classroom and catch her in the hallway.

Clutching the stack of books, Grace briskly exited the hall, a wave of relief washing over her at having escaped.

As she took a step, a shadow to her left halted her progress. Upon turning, she discovered Jayden Alcott leaning against the building, smoking in the chilly air.

Their eyes met, and Grace noticed a flicker of surprise crossing Jayden's features, though she responded with a nod and continued walking. However, Jayden approached, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Grace instinctively flinched, pushing his hand away roughly.

"What's your game?" His scowl was fierce. "Are you going to snitch to Mr. Conan about what you saw?"

"Why on earth would I do that?"

Jayden regarded her with skepticism. "If I hear any whispers about me..." He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in her direction. "You won't be happy about it."

Dark circles underlined his eyes, a testament to his stress. Grace suppressed the urge to comment on his appearance, offering a smile instead. "Seeing you didn't startle me. I assumed everyone knew."

"Knew what?"

"About your smoking habit. But I suppose not."

Jayden dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. "You've been warned now," he declared menacingly before turning on his heel and walking away.

Grace sighed, standing still for a moment as she watched Jayden's figure blur in the distance. Then, with a resigned sigh, she resumed her journey, making her way to the bus terminal outside the school.

~•~

Sitting beside his mother on the regular hospital cot, Bradley Archer couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. Even in her coma, he believed she'd sense the shame etched across his face. The unsavory deeds he'd undertaken for money weighed heavily on him. The disgust he felt for his own actions was potent, but last night had been the pinnacle of it all. He had wanted to shed his skin, as if the surface layer held the filth he so detested. The urge to sever his veins was strong, as if that would cleanse him of the tarnished morality coursing through his body.

His internal turmoil had evolved over the years. Once fueled by anger directed outwardly at life and the universe, it now turned inward, settling in a pit of self-loathing. He despised himself for the mere act of existing, for continuing to survive amidst his tainted actions.

His father's death in a plane crash when he was twelve had left Bradley without a paternal figure. His uncle, who was supposed to be his legal guardian, absconded with much of the inheritance, leaving Bradley and his mother behind. His mother, battling blood cancer, had run a salon to provide for them, until her illness took hold five years after her husband's passing.

Seventeen-year-old Bradley faced the harsh reality of his mother's hospitalization. Assistance poured in from different sources, including his father's friend, Mr. Louis, and charitable organizations that rallied around their plight. He believed things were under control, until Mr. Louis's demise and the gradual withdrawal of support from those organizations. One by one, they retreated, leaving Bradley to fend for his ailing mother alone.

By the time he turned eighteen, Bradley realized he was the only lifeline his mother had. He either had to work relentlessly to provide for her, or witness her life slip away. Juggling numerous part-time jobs, he held onto his morals, avoiding the tempting path of immorality.

During his stint at a restaurant, he encountered Mr. Moore, a sixty-one-year-old man with numerous connections and the potential to secure him a high-paying job. Bradley understood that aligning with Mr. Moore would demand a forfeiture of his morality and a surrender of his dignity. Resisting, he clung to his principles and low-wage jobs, witnessing his mother's excruciating agony as she withered away.

Nineteen brought a turning point. Bradley confronted the brutal reality of his mother's failing health, realizing his prospects were limited unless he compromised his morals. Returning to Mr. Moore's dubious dealings, he abandoned his principles to ensure his mother's survival. It was through Mr. Moore's dark enterprise that Bradley could afford college, studying biology as the years went by.

Yet, even as Bradley's life improved, his mother's health deteriorated. Despite the considerable expenses, her condition worsened, pushing her onto life support. Oxygen alone was a financial burden, and it was only the unsavory contract with Mr. Moore that provided the necessary funds for her care. The deal, however, had its price. While it enabled a stable life and even landed him an internship at prestigious Ludwig Academy, the scars of his past remained indelible.

Mr. Moore, a paradoxical figure in Bradley's life, had propelled him forward and irrevocably scarred him. He was both a godfather figure and the architect of Bradley's moral wreckage.