Chapter 4 - The Oak Hall HavenOak Hall was everything my old bedroom in my parents' house hadn't been: safe, quiet, and entirely mine.
The room was compact, featuring a twin bed with crisp white sheets, a wooden desk facing a tall window that looked out over the sunlit central quad, and a private closet where I could finally hang my clothes without worrying about someone tearing through my belongings.
I dropped my suitcase on the floor and sat down on the edge of the mattress, letting out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for eighteen years.
My phone buzzed relentlessly on the desk.
I picked it up. The notification screen was flooded with missed calls and angry text messages—not from Brandon this time, but from my father.
“Ava, pick up the phone right now! The local police are at the house! They’re saying Brandon’s car is impounded and my office files are seized! Call your lawyer and fix this immediately or you are disowned forever!”
I stared at the screen, a quiet, humorless chuckle escaping my lips. Disowned forever. As if being cut off from a family of thieves and bullies was a punishment instead of a liberation.
I tapped the screen, blocked my father’s number permanently, and then did the same for my mother and Brandon.
No more guilt trips. No more comparing myself to the golden child. No more scrubbing floors at midnight to pay for textbooks while my tuition money bought sports cars for a parasite.
Suddenly, a soft knock echoed at my open dorm room door.
I looked up. Standing in the doorway was a girl with bright curly hair, wearing an oversized graphic tee and carrying a box of pastel highlighters and notebooks.
"Hey! I'm Maya, your new hall neighbor from down the-hall in 304," she said, flashing a bright, friendly smile. "I saw you hauling your suitcase in earlier and figured you could use a proper welcome to Ellison. Do you need help unpacking, or are you too exhausted from surviving the move?"
I smiled back, feeling a genuine warmth spread through my chest for the first time in months.
"I could definitely use some help unpacking, Maya," I said, standing up and brushing my hands off. "And maybe a cup of coffee. It’s been a... very long morning."
Maya grinned, stepping into the room and setting her box of supplies on the desk. "Coffee is my love language. Come on, there's a great little student-run café in the student union. I'll show you around."
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As we walked down the sunlit hallway of Oak Hall toward the campus quad, listening to the distant chatter of students laughing and arguing about lecture notes, I realized something wonderful:
The storm was finally over. And I had survived it.
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