Take Me

Chapter Thirteen

A.N. Another casting. She might not seem important, but she is. The sassy, fiery-haired history teacher, Mrs. Jill Doorsdale is being played by Julianne Moore. There are parts to this story where Jill Doorsdale is the only person Tom has left, so I can't help but appreciate her (plus she is based on my real life history teacher). Keep reading!         

"Distance sometimes lets you know who is worth keeping, and who is worth letting go."

- Lana Del Rey

♔ Chapter Thirteen ♔

"Shit! I knew I forgot to lock this damn dirty door!"

I tried to scramble myself up as soon as I heard that harsh voice, but the door had swung open too fast, and there she was, standing by the doorframe, watching me, startled.

Mrs. Doorsdale, my history teacher.

She'd seen me, crumbling on her classroom floor with my trousers tossed to the side and my underwear down to my knees, drowning in my own tears, bruised and worn down and fucked bloody.

"What in carnation milk is this?" she stammered. For once, she seemed completely taken back, clueless, wordless. "Tom, what the fuck happened here?"

I broke out in an uncontrollable sob as soon as she'd seen me. I couldn't help it. Now she knew, now she could see right through me, right at me, and it was unbearable. Being on display for her to laugh at, splayed out across her floor like the useless, disgusting little whore that I was. I wanted to die.

She'd sprung over to me faster than the speed of light, her touch gentle, her words soothing and sweet and so unlike her. My eyes were tightened shut, I didn't want to look at her. I knew that she could see me, all of me, naked, entirely on show, but I didn't care. I wanted nothing more than to vanish, to wither away and die, to be at home under my covers where no one could hurt me and nothing could get me. I just wanted to shut the world away, to end all of the pain. I wanted it to be like I never even existed at all.

Her hand had reached out and touched my shoulder, but I'd shaken on contact, so she'd retreated carefully. "Tom," her voice was the gentlest it had ever sounded. "Were you raped?"

I shook my head frantically, I didn't want to get Isaac into trouble. Besides, it wasn't rape, I'd wanted it. It just looked like rape, it just looked bad, but it wasn't. I had to get her to see that.

"No!" I stuttered, wiping at my eyes. I pulled my underwear back up, embarrassed, but I knew she didn't care about that.

She abandoned everything the moment that she'd seen me, and I wasn't even sure why. Mrs. Doorsdale hated everything, she was cruel and rude and completely irrational, but as soon as she'd saw me broken down on her classroom floor, her gears had changed, her entire framework had switched, and she'd become someone I didn't recognise. She became kind and caring and compassionate, like a mother.

"Sweetie, who was it? Who did this?" Her eyes weren't even their usual greenish-blue sludge, they were soft, staring, but not too much, looking at me like an injured bird. Pitying me. I hated pity.

I wiped at my face again with the sleeve of my jumper, getting rid of the tears and the snot and the mess. I sniffled. "No one. No one did anything." I sounded stupid, but I couldn't exactly tell her what happened.

"Honey, clearly something happened here. Rape is not a joke, not to me, now please, Tom, you've got to tell me."

"It wasn't rape," I told her, my voice pleading. "He was just so rough. Please, just don't tell anyone, forget this ever happened. I have it under control, I promise!"