I’d heard the stories. We all had. But they were just myths, fairytales, things of legends. Scary stories you were told as a child to make you behave, stuff of nightmares even. There wasn’t really a boarding school for monsters, for dangerous children, mythical creatures masquerading as humans. There was no such thing as magic, no such thing as powers. Or so I thought until strange things began happening to me. Unexplainable events, unimaginable goings on. Things that couldn’t happen, shouldn’t happen. Didn’t happen.
So, I began to wonder, could it be true? That number, that no one believed and yet everyone wondered. Sure, we had pranked it a few times only to get an old ladies voice. Kind of creepy. But just an ordinary number, right? But what if someone was to give their real name, their real situation? Would the response be different?

I was becoming dangerous to myself and others. I was out of control. So, I took the chance to become ‘normal’ once more. I dialled the number, to find that old woman on the end of the line knew me. Knew what had been happening to me. She even knew my name. She told me she could help, that she could make it all go away. But there was a catch, I must say goodbye, come to the given address. Not tell anyone where I was going, or why. Because if I did, they would not help me. Things would only get worse... So I packed my bags late one night, kissed my mother goodbye as though I was just leaving for a sleepover, and left the house. Sure that I would return in due course, I won’t pretend that I wasn’t afraid. I was terrified, but less scared of that than totally losing my mind. The address was hard to find, no one seemed to know it existed. Three bus journeys and a train later I finally arrived at the place I was convinced I should be. Except that it was nothing more than a disused factory. At this point I was ready to make a run for it, to run all the way home. But the idea of the nightmare ending was enough to make me bottle my fears and enter the boarded up building. And that is when it all went blank.

Blinking, I opened my bleary eyes; I was stiff and aching all over. A dazzling white greeted my eyes, from all angles. My back was pressed against a hard surface. Groaning, I closed my eyes once again, my head spinning. Where was I? Why wasn’t I at home? Why couldn’t I remember where I was? I forced my eyes to open, forced my rigid body to sit up, despite the protest from my muscles. It took me a moment to focus, but when I did a horrible realisation hit me. This most definitely wasn’t home. The blank walls, the single wardrobe, one grimy little mirror and then of course the solid bed, these things did not belong in my world. Something around my neck came to my attention. Shaky fingers grasped at the cold, hard metal that was essentially a dog tag. On one side, printed in bold black letters was my name and on the other, a meaningless number. Panic began to set in, as the unfamiliar room grew smaller around me. What was this place? Why was I here? Was it a prison? Had I been arrested?

I had to get out, I had to get away. Shakily I allowed myself to stand, my aim the door. No, that was stupid, it’d be locked. I was locked in this tiny room with no escape. Perhaps...Perhaps I could hit the door hard enough and then I could make a break for it. I could run. That would work, I was sure of it. Stepping back, I prepared myself for a run, taking a deep breath. I ran towards it, as fast as my aching limbs would allow and I jumped at the door. Much to my surprise, the door easily flung open and I landed on the cold, hard floor of the corridor in a crumpled heap.
Much to my dismay, hundreds of students milled in this particular corridor. Many turned to look at my embarrassing blunder, some even laughed and one guy applauded my misfortune, sarcastically of course.

So that was my entrance to the “wonderful” world of Saint Arnold’s school of “gifted and talented” children, or as we refer to it...Hell on earth. I wasn’t the first misfortunate teen to arrive and I most certainly won’t be the last.
Imagine my surprise when I happened across the graveyard in the courtyard, or the old chapel hidden by the old oaks. You see, Saint Arnold’s school is hidden from the world, I’d like to tell you where it is, but I don’t know. No-one knows, everyone was brought it under circumstances that meant none of them knew where they were. What I can tell you is that the school is set on top of a hill, with a long sloping gravel driveway, which leads to the gates, which no-one ever sees open. Looming high above us, five storeys high in fact, the building is huge, made from old bricks, with ivy climbing relentlessly towards the sun, it too imprisoned by in the miserable place. Idyllic you might say, but we’d all love to escape. Nearly all of us have tried. And although the grounds may seem beautiful, with the vast forest, the gentle river and the wonderful meadows, but wherever we go, we’re always met by the same thing. A thirty foot barbed wire electric fence, towers mockingly above you, preventing any thoughts of escape. Not to mention to constant patrolling guards.

They may tell you that you’re unique, that you powers are valuable. But they’re not. There's over two thousand students, and that number in ever increasing. Luckily the massive expanse of grounds means that there must be no limit to the amount of student intake. That explains the number...

People arrive under different circumstances, most people regret that fateful phone call. Some never even made the call, and yet they’re still here. Some students can control weather, others can read minds. The possibilities are endless. The lies endless. ‘Everyone is special’ is just another way of saying no one is. Good luck. Try not to get yourself killed.