Chapter 1: The Beginning
Dollin Bryce sat alone at a metal lunch table beneath the overhang in the crowded quad of Paso Robles High School, his gaze fixed on the clean, leather-bound cover of laughter his new Bible. The chatter of classmates filled the warm California air—gossip, arguments over grades and crushes—but Dollin remained detached, tucked into the shadowed corner like he was trying to disappear. His shoulders were hunched slightly forward, as though shielding his soul from the outside world. His face, marked by the fading scars of teenage acne, seemed perpetually tense—worn not from age, but from the weight of burdens far beyond his seventeen years.
Dollin wasn't just quiet—he was watchful, reflective. He had the kind of eyes that always seemed to be scanning the edges of things, like he expected shadows to move when no one was watching. His journey to Paso Robles hadn't been a simple relocation; it was an escape. A chapter closed—though not forgotten. He and his younger brother, Malek, had endured years of torment under the roof of their abusive mother. The scars they carried were more than physical—they were etched into every part of Dollin's being, tucked behind polite nods and soft "I'm fine"s. Amid all of it, his Bible had been a lifeline. Scripture was his calm in the chaos, a voice of truth that cut through the lies he had once believed about himself.
Looking up, Dollin's eyes found Malek across the quad, laughing with a group of varsity football players. Malek, a sophomore, had always been the bold one—fiery, impulsive, confident in a way that Dollin couldn't mimic. It wasn't just that Malek fit in—it was that he thrived in places like this. Dollin admired that about him, even as it deepened the wedge between them.
Nearby, a group of girls gathered beneath a eucalyptus tree, their conversations punctuated by bursts of laughter. Among them stood Ella Donovan, a beautiful white sophomore with sun-blonde hair and a quiet kind of elegance. Her movements were graceful in that effortless way only a lifelong dancer could carry—Dollin knew she had been dancing since she was four, competing by the time she was seven.
He'd seen her perform once at a school event—watched her float across the stage like she wasn't bound by gravity. Ella had caught his eye more than once, though he'd never found the courage to say more than a soft "Hey" when they passed in the hallway. She was the kind of person Dollin felt was out of his league—warm, magnetic, radiant in a way he didn't believe he deserved to stand near.
He remembered watching a video the school news magazine had posted online about a fun segment called the "Pumpkin Pair-Up." It was a light-hearted, just-for-laughs event where students carved pumpkins while answering personal questions.This year Ella Donovan and her boyfriend, Carson Briggs, a junior and a starting varsity wide receiver was the ones who was invited to do it.
In the video, the segment began with Carson grinning at the camera and saying, "Ladies first," in a charming, over-the-top voice. Ella looked up from her pumpkin and giggled, a little shy as she gave a small nod and smiled. Her eyes, soft and sweet, shifted away for a moment, almost bashfully. Carson, meanwhile, barely looked at her—his gaze often aimed toward the camera or at his friends behind it, a group of Crimson Crew students asking the questions.
At one point, Carson exclaimed, "Dude, I stabbed it!" when his carving tool pierced the wrong part of the pumpkin, and Ella turned to glance behind the camera, letting out a light laugh as if amused by the chaos. She wasn't laughing at Carson so much as she was reacting to the atmosphere—the voices and energy behind the camera that kept the event feeling alive.
Then came the question: "Who's your favorite music artist?" Ella smiled again and said, "Taylor Swift."
Dollin had stared at the screen longer than he liked to admit. Taylor Swift? he'd thought. For someone like Ella, who seemed so put-together and spiritual—who wore a silver cross necklace and once quoted Proverbs during a youth group debate—it didn't seem to fit. Shouldn't it be something deeper? More… Christian? But maybe he didn't understand. Maybe it wasn't about the artist. Maybe she just liked the stories in the songs, the freedom in them.
Still, that quiet, irrational disappointment bloomed in his chest like a bruise.
A few feet away, Riley Chen sat with her usual group of friends, chatting animatedly about their upcoming group project. Riley, a Sophomore like Ella, was naturally sociable, with an ease in conversation that made people feel welcomed. Dollin admired her from afar, often wondering what it would be like to have that kind of natural connection with others. He imagined slipping into a group like hers, trading jokes over sandwiches and soda instead of eating in silence.
Near the edge of the quad sat Savannah Kim, her eyes focused on the journal in her lap. Dollin remembered her vaguely from a science project in sixth grade, the only time they had really talked. There was a calmness about Savannah, a quiet intelligence that had stuck with him through the years. While others were loud or showy, she moved through life like a steady river—quiet, reflective, but deeply powerful.
The bell pierced the stillness, jolting Dollin from his reverie. He tucked his Bible under his arm, slung his bag over his shoulder, and joined the flow of students heading to their next classes. As he moved through the crowded hallway, his steps felt heavy—weighted not just by his books, but by something else. Something closer.
He didn't know why, but a cold certainty pressed against his spine like a warning: something was coming. Something old. Like the past wasn't done with him yet.
Dollin entered his US History class and took his usual seat beside Julian Reyes, a sharp-witted junior who was one of the few students who had ever bothered to ask Dollin his name. Julian greeted him with a grin and a whispered joke about their teacher's relentless obsession with the Industrial Revolution.
Miss Strobes introduced herself, but Dollin's mind wandered. The hum of the classroom faded into a distant blur as his thoughts spiraled—memories of Shandon, of old faces that he never got to say goodbye to. And this time, he couldn't ignore them.
As Miss Strobes wore on, Dollin stared blankly at the whiteboard. The voices around him blurred with memories he hadn't meant to unlock. His past wasn't buried. It had just been waiting.
The bell rang again, slicing through his trance. Julian nudged him, and Dollin managed a faint smile before packing his things. He stepped out into the hallway, his heart hammering with a tension he didn't understand.
There was something in the air—an electricity beneath the surface of things. Something about to break. Dollin Bryce didn't know it yet, but the shadows of his past were no longer content to stay hidden.
And they were coming for him.