Him and Her

Twenty-five

Twenty-five

Ana

- 3:05 pm the following day -

"Today is the last meeting until the test tomorrow. So listen closely." I order.

"Yes ma'am." He salutes as he lays out all his self written notes.

"Did you write all these?" I question picking up one of them.

"Yea, I was studying last night how you taught me." He states.

"Great job! These are so beautiful." I laugh, fanning my eyes dramatically.

"You must really like then, you're practically crying." He teases.

I laugh a little. "How could I not?"

"I worked hard on them. I wanted you to like them and be proud of me." He blushes a little bit. His statement makes me blush too.

"Well, I am happy that you thought of that..." I say truthfully. "And I am very proud of your notes, and your progress."

"Thanks." He gives me a nice smile.

I almost can't breathe for a second. But I do and shake the red from my cheeks. "Alright, so..." The review begins.

- 3:59 pm -

"Before I take you home, I just have to use the bathroom." Eric announces walking toward the restroom.

"Okay, I will be here." I say parking my chair, looking at the student art wall.

I look at all the art work, but my eyes fix on a canvas that has a snowed-in cottage painted on the front. Snow decorates all around the canvas in a random pattern. Some of the snow dropping reminds me of the snow that dropped onto my face in the accident. I don't know why I wasn't scared then. I wasn't in any pain, or anything. I was just so focused on the snow.

"Ana?"

Bile rises in my throat. Color flushing out of my face. Eyes widen.

"Hey pretty." Carter says, leaning against the wall in front of me.

I keep quiet as I remove the lock in my chair and begin to wheel away.

"Where are you going? I've barely seen you, or have been able to talk to you without your bodyguard around." He grabs the handles and pushes me down the hall and around the corner.

"Stop— I need to get back—" I try to put the breaks on but he just moves faster.

"Oh stop. We are just walking and talking." Carter says sternly.

"I'd rather just go back—"

"Shut up!" He nearly shouts.

I wince. "Please." I plead.

In one swift movement, he spins the chair so we are facing one another. Carter leans in to my face, way to close. "Please what?" He questions with a sickening grin.

When I don't answer, he leans in closer. And closer.

"Back up!" I raise my voice and surprisingly enough I send my fist into his cheek as hard as I can. There is a stinging on my knuckle and I feel a bruise forming already.

While he is down, with his head in his hand, I wheel away as fast as I can, as far away as I can before he catches me. But he soon catches me again, rage clear on his face, red with anger. It's almost as if I can see the steam come from his ears. I am so scared I freeze, unable to breath, unable to move. I close my eyes when he grabs me again.