Say My Name [ Teacher-Student Romance -- Robert Downey Jr ]

Ch.22 - Defuse The Bomb

Wow. Canadian life. Just saw some Canadian Kangaroos also known as "Deer" passing by in my backyard. Four of em.
Any who's. Guys AOU is so close. So close. I'm so excited. Seriously awesome. Anyways. Enjoy the progression, and let me know what you think of today's chapter. You rocking rockers enjoy.
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An end to another busy day and a bag full of homework. She's exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, all of it. Everything's a blur and it's only Wednesday. Crazy? Yes.

The day had been going pretty swimmingly until she let in the flooding exhaustion and accidentally let down her leaking walls. It hadn't been so bad though, not before the slips of Him escaped her unconscious.

Until that point it was just the bags under her eyes and pain in her spine. Either that's from the awful chair she sits in or the fact she's been sleeping on the hard ground for the past four nights. Maybe it's both. Again though, she can't sleep anywhere else because her Uncle Don is still creeping around the house and it bugs her enough that she's not with her sister for at least three hours after Molls already arrived back at the house.

You know there's a lot that's bothering her right now. Many endless lists that seem to just go on and on forever, including the way she can't help but watch Mr.--Robert. Ha. Watch Robert as he packs up his desk for the day, sliding things into that old brown leather briefcase of his like he's modelling the damn thing.

A dark blue shirt encapsulating her still developing crush--and he's still so innocent about her. The shared gazes, as quick as they may be, but reassuring and warm. Friendly. (A friend?).

He's so graceful yet particular with his movements, not confident, although on occasion he seems to have an abundance of it, but rather during his lessons than anything else. Actually really only lessons, she realizes. Maybe they have more in common than she initially realized.

She feels clumsy all the time, with wavering emotions ranging strictly between good days and bad days--and that alone makes a hell of a difference. Shoving things into her still very slushy blue, like a headache kind of inducing blue, backpack. Like a big ol target meant only for those sharing the cold soul of Sue Selvester and her big old bag of Cheerios.

She really did need a new backpack. Even saying the word backpack seemed childish... helpless.

She needs to grow up already like Dayna had said. Stop acting like the kid she wasn't.

She had bigger issues on her plate, more crimes to be solved, like taking care of her little sis.

Remember when she used to be humorous? Funny even? She can barely recall those times too. Like a ghost drifting through her present reminding her of her past.

Maybe tacos would help beat this ugly sucker. For a moment at least. Nothing that some good cooked up meat and cheese (lots of cheese) can't alleviate.

Well. You know... except that one thing that kept weighing her down, down, down.

God. The feelings of his hands, greedy with greasy sweat, leaving both bruises and scars as they roamed. Shivers climbing up her spine, needling into her muscles in an almost painful numbness.

So much numbness. So cold. Feeling alone. Feeling the hope die like a simmering star.

She shouldn't, she shouldn't think about Him. She shouldn't. She'll get lost in it all and she's already a bit jumpy just thinking about thinking about it. She has to zip up her collar a bit more, right up under her chin.

She-she loathes Him. She hates Him so much she wishes she'd never had met him. Never had let him into the stitches of her heart, let her show him every crevice that made her tick. She wishes she could hurt him like he hurt her.... But she couldn't, she was weak. Like a brittle glass bottle teetering on the ledge of a counter waiting to plummet to the tile floors and smash into tiny pieces beyond repair.