Lost Paradise (The Savages of the Blue Lagoon)

Prologue

Dunrowan Village, Scottish Highlands

The early morning sky is an overcast blanket, typical for this region. I remain hidden in the shadows of the old stone buildings that line the waterfront and observe the others standing by the weathered wooden railing of the docks. The foggy air carries the faint scent of the sea, mingling with the earthy aroma of the nearby pine trees. The ferry is moored a short distance away, and its engines are quiet but ready to awaken for the journey to the island.

I pull the collar of my leather jacket tighter around my neck, more out of habit than cold. It isn’t particularly chilly, but the breeze has a bite to it.

Clusters of first-year students mill around, their chatter a gentle hum that occasionally rises with bursts of excitement. They are easy to spot, with their wide-eyed expressions and tentative steps. The anticipation of their first day at Hawthornes Valor is intense. It’s a familiar scene from last year, though the cast of characters has changed slightly. There are a few recognizable faces, but none hold my attention.

As I observe from the outskirts, a quiet observer amidst the flurry of activity, I wonder which of these eager students will become fixtures in the tapestry of the institute and how their individual stories will intertwine with mine in the coming months.

My eyes quickly dart to my right. A black SUV with darkened windows and a City of London parking permit sticker on the windscreen pulls up near me, its engine purring quietly but powerfully. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and the rear door opens with a soft click.

Stepping out of the SUV is a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that does little to disguise his muscular build. His presence commands attention, an air of authority and menace clinging to him like a second skin. He surveys the dock with cold, calculating eyes that miss nothing. His face is rugged, with a strong jawline and a thin scar running from his temple to his cheek.

A younger bloke, closer to my age, follows him out of the vehicle. He carries himself with a similar confidence, though there’s a noticeable tension in his posture, a hint of reluctance. He’s dressed in expensive, casual attire that screams money and power but also hints at a desire to blend in, to be one of us. His light brown hair is neatly styled, and his eyes scan the crowd with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

The older man leans in to speak in a low, commanding tone. The bloke nods, his jaw tightening slightly. It’s a brief exchange, but it’s enough to convey the weight of expectations and the unspoken rules of their world.

The man lights a fag, taking a slow, deliberate drag, his gaze fixed on the younger one as he retrieves his luggage from the back of the car. “The ferry will be departing soon. You need to get on it, and I’ll be back here in June to pick you up.”

East London. I recognize the accent. Even though I’m not from the English capital, cockney is distinct and unmistakable.

His eyes widen in disbelief at the older man, “June? It’s fucking September! What the fuck, Jimmy?!”

“Look, son, this is your father’s orders. You fucked up in America and are a liability. He managed to get you into Hawthornes Valor Institute.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do at some fancy-arsed college?”

Jimmy shrugs his shoulder.

“Study mate, what do people do at college?”

“I haven’t even got any A’Levels 1 !”

“And your father pulled some very important strings to get you in here. Take my advice, son, and use this opportunity to learn something here. Everything you need is in the bag, Astro. Make use of your time here. It’s for the best,” he says and shuts the boot.

“Oh yeah, and this is for you, mate,” Jimmy reaches inside his blazer pocket and hands him an envelope. “Make sure you don’t fuck up this time.”

Astro looks inside it. "You've got to be kidding me," he mutters, looking around; his cocky facade crumbles in an instant.

But Jimmy says nothing and takes a final drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring brightly in the gloom. He holds the smoke in his lungs for a moment and exhales slowly, a cloud of grey mist within the air. With a flick, he sends the butt spinning to the ground, stepping on it to extinguish it instantly. With a final glance at Astro, he opens the car door and sighs once more before getting back inside the vehicle.

Astro steps back, watching him drive away. The road back to England is a long one.

His head turns towards the dock. A flicker of hesitation crosses his face, etching lines of apprehension. A bunch of students gather with their luggage; some engage in animated conversations while others quietly observe.

My eyes are abruptly drawn to a striking figure standing near a town car rental. A beauty easily noticeable in her elegant camel coat. Her long, layered light blonde hair cascades down her back, catching the grey light in a way that makes it shimmer even though there’s no sun for it to shine off from.

Standing a step behind her is a tall, imposing figure — her bodyguard, most likely. Dressed in a sharp, dark suit, he exudes an air of silent vigilance as he scans the area ahead. “I can wait until the ferry is ready to depart, but I won’t be able to accompany you beyond that point.”

“No, I’ll be fine, Thomas,” she says with a soft American accent. “You should go. I guess I’ll see you again in June?”

“That’s right, Miss. Winters.”

She glances up at him with her big, expressive blue eyes, her lips forming a faint, sad smile. With a final nod, the bodyguard turns, gets back into the automobile, and drives away. As the car disappears from sight, she takes a deep breath, steadying herself. Her eyes shift back to the docks, determination replacing the sadness. She smooths her coat and adjusts the strap of her handbag, readying herself for the journey ahead .

I continue to watch her as she takes in the surroundings with a mix of curiosity and confidence. Something is captivating about her gaze; it is as if she sees everything and misses nothing. Her pale skin contrasts beautifully with the coat, giving her an ethereal quality. Her full, naturally pale, rosy lips are set in a thoughtful line, adding a touch of softness to her otherwise composed demeanor.

For now, though, I remain in my hidden spot, content to watch and wonder, unable to look away from her. My eyes are fixed on her with more than just curiosity. She’s much more than just a pretty face; there’s a story behind those expressive blue eyes, a depth I find myself curious to explore. For a moment, I consider stepping out of my observer’s role to bridge the distance and perhaps learn more about the girl with the camel coat and the beautiful, sad eyes. But instead, I remain where I am, content to watch and wonder from afar.

“Couldn’t help but overhear,” Emily’s voice, dripping with a mix of curiosity and arrogance, catches the American’s attention. She saunters over with her duo of posh minions trailing behind her with their designer luggage and handbags. “You’re Evelyn Winters?”

“Eve Winters,” the pretty American corrects, her naturally full and perfectly shaped lips curving into a polite smile. “Everyone calls me Eve.”

Emily’s eyes flicker with interest, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You’re staying at Whitley House. We’re housemates,” she announces, stepping closer to Eve, her tone suggesting a sense of ownership. “I’m Emily Beaumont. We’re all second-year students but happy to show you the ropes at Hawthornes. Welcome to our little world.”

The two girls flanking Emily move in closer, their expressions a blend of curiosity and assessment. Eve’s eyes dart between them, sensing the unspoken dynamics at play. Despite their outward warmth, there’s an air of exclusivity around them, a barrier that’s both inviting and intimidating. Emily’s hold on Eve is firm yet deceptively warm, a subtle blend of welcome and control.

I watch from my spot in the shadows, intrigued by the scene unfolding before me. The dynamic is fascinating, a blend of social maneuvering and genuine interest.

“We’ll have you fitting right in,” Emily continues, her smile widening. “There’s a lot to take in, but don’t worry. Stick with us, and you’ll be just fine. ”

There’s no missing the fleeting expression on Eve’s face – almost an eye roll. It’s a subtle sign that she’s aware of the type of crowd she’s being drawn into, one she might instinctively resist. Yet, there’s an inevitability to it, as if this social dynamic is both a burden and a calling for her. Her expressive blue eyes reveal a mix of reluctance and acceptance, suggesting she’s been through similar situations before and knows how to navigate them.

“Couldn’t help but notice, you’re also from the States,” a tall, muscular bloke approaches the group, his athletic build evident beneath a casual but well-fitted jacket, a sweatshirt hoodie peeking out from underneath. His attention is focused solely on Eve, giving only a brief nod of acknowledgment to Emily and her snobbish companions. He radiates a confident charm, his dark eyes locking onto Eve’s with genuine interest.

“Yeah, I am,” Eve responds, her smile growing more genuine as she meets his gaze. “New York.”

“I’m Zane. Zane Jones,” he introduces himself, extending a hand towards her. I notice he doesn’t mention which state he’s from.

Emily, standing slightly to the side, watches the exchange with a keen interest. Her eyes linger on Zane, a calculated spark of attraction in her gaze.

“Oh, you’re that scholarship athlete,” Emily retorts condescendingly. “Martial arts, isn’t it?”

Zane’s expression doesn’t falter. He meets Emily’s gaze with a leveled look, his hand still extended towards Eve. “Yes, I am,” he replies smoothly, his voice steady, but he doesn’t elaborate further.

Eve shakes his outstretched hand, her touch light but confident. “Nice to meet you, Zane. I’m Eve.”

Sensing the growing connection between Zane and Eve, Emily steps closer, her companions trailing behind her like shadows. “We were just about to help Eve with her luggage,” she says, her tone sweet but laced with an edge of possessiveness. You’re welcome to join us, Zane.”

Zane looks at the luggage, then back at Eve. “Sure, I’d be happy to help,” he agrees, his smile widening. “Anything to make the transition easier.”

“Hey, Em.”

The entire group stops to look at the tall fella with glasses who casually approaches them, addressing Emily. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge the three other females standing with her, and I wonder how this will play out since only a few of us know the short version of Byron Harding’s story.

“Byron,” Emily mutters, looking onwards, her tone barely masking her irritation.

Byron's frown is brief but telling. He quickly tries to hide it, though I can see an equal level of disdain on his face. His demeanor is that of someone who’s used to being sidelined but has learned to wear it well. As I observe him more carefully, I notice Eve’s curious glance in his direction, almost as if she’s secretly checking him out.

Interesting. So, she either has a penchant for Asian blokes or the studious-looking types.

Byron adjusts his glasses, his eyes momentarily meeting Eve’s before flicking them away. He slides his hands into his trouser pockets and stands there, eager to make a little more than small talk.

“How are your mum and dad?” he asks, rocking himself back and forth on his heels.

“They’re good, thanks,” Emily says, turning to her bodyguard to instruct him to leave her bags and go.

Realizing he’s not going to get much more from her, Byron stands up straight and quietly slips away, unnoticed. I observe Eve as she turns thoughtfully to watch him leave, her expression betraying curiosity about the interaction and Emily's dismissive attitude towards him.

“Who was that?” Eve asks curiously.

Emily is unlikely to tolerate Eve’s budding interest in Byron. She’ll see to it that any attraction Eve feels for him is nipped in the bud.

“Byron Harding,” Emily replies curtly. “A nobody.”

“I think he’s my roommate,” Zane suddenly blurts out as he watches Byron stride over to the docks.

“He doesn’t seem very friendly,” Eve says, but she still can’t tear her eyes away from him.

I watch as Zane effortlessly lifts one of Eve’s heavier bags, his athletic build making it seem weightless. “I can take this for you,” he says, securing it with care and drawing her attention away from the docks.

“Thanks,” Eve replies, her voice softening as a warm smile of appreciation blooms on her face. There’s a genuine connection forming between them, a mutual understanding that cuts through the superficial interactions .

Emily, not one to be easily sidelined, steps closer to Zane, her hand brushing his arm lightly. “You must be looking forward to showcasing your skills in the newly built arena,” she says, her voice dripping with false admiration.

Zane’s eyes meet hers briefly, polite but uninterested. “Yeah, it’s a great opportunity,” he replies, his focus shifting back to Eve. “But right now, I’m just looking forward to the journey.”

As I observe these scenes, I feel a sense of detachment, like a ghost drifting through the fringes of their reality. I prefer it this way, watching and understanding without the complications of direct interaction. My own memories of the past year at the college are a mosaic of similar moments, each person a piece of a larger puzzle.

The ferry’s horn blares, cutting through the ambient noise and signaling that it is time to board. The students gather their belongings, their chatter growing louder with renewed excitement. I take a deep breath, preparing myself to join them, another observer blending into the crowd.

My eyes scan the docks, looking for her once more. There she is—the blonde beauty with sorrowful, expressive blue eyes and full, enticing lips. She stands with the other four, her gaze fixed on the horizon. My heart races as I imagine the stories behind those eyes, the secrets hidden beneath that serene facade.

I graze the metal of my tongue stud against my teeth, the anticipation building inside me. What would she taste like? How would her lips feel against mine? The curiosity is almost unbearable, but I know I must bide my time. Revealing myself to her now would ruin everything. Instead, I'll wait for the perfect moment.

Gaining access to the exclusive all-girls dorm at Whitley House is a challenge, but not for me. Sneaking in will be a breeze. Once inside, I’ll make my way to her private room.

I can almost picture it: the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting gentle shadows on her sleeping form. I'll approach her bed silently, my heart pounding with anticipation. Slowly, I'll slide her knickers down her legs, feeling the warmth of her skin against my fingers. And then, I’ll finally get a taste of the real Eve Winters, the hidden depths of her soul, and the essence of her being.

Adjusting the stiffie in my trousers, I gather my belongings and walk down towards the waterfront to board the ferry. The dynamics on this dock are more complex than I initially thought, each student bringing their own stories, their own secrets.

1. Similar to American high school SATS