The academy had finally shut down and the students were set free to their homes. Most of them hated the idea. They had gotten used to life at the academy. It was all they knew. To make matters worse, they were sent there by their families.
When returned home, the parents would always go on about how they never knew, and if they did, they'd have never sent them there. The students didn't believe them. They just couldn't.
Even if they did, they couldn't forgive them.
How dare they. How dare they act all concerned when they're the ones who took them there. Even after they had told them how they wanted to go home, only to be punished brutally by the whites afterwards.
How dare they say they never knew when they saw all the blatant signs. All the bruises. The scars.
They could never be forgiven.
Illya hated being around her parents. She didn't want to see them, hear them, think of them. But she had no choice. She was only 16. Still a minor. She had to live with them.
She already felt dead. She died in that academy but she failed to physically die there too. Perhaps she could succeed this time.
Illya loved the rooftop. She felt the most free there. It felt like no one could touch her. As she started falling to the ground, it felt like she was flying.
With a sudden thud, Illya had been set free. For the first time in eight years, she finally had a smile on her face.