Scared of love

3

~Mr Reynolds / Keiran to the side ~

~Kieran's POV~

I sit at my desk, looking at some of the drawings a few of my students did today and I have to say, they are very good. There are a lot of animals and buildings. A few of the girls have drawn me and that makes me chuckle.

I've worked at three schools. I like to move around a lot, but I have decided to settle down in this area of London. It's very beautiful and not overly busy, but it's not so isolated that we are away from everything.

Each school I go to, I get the same reaction from the girls and it gets a little tiring. I just want to be an ordinary teacher and work to pay my way in this world. Having students drooling all over the place when you walk in the room can be a little frustrating.

It's been two weeks since I started at this school and I am enjoying it. The students are pretty well behaved. Most of them anyway. And all the staff are very friendly.

The next drawing I pick up is outstanding. It is of a galloping horse and I have to double check it's not a photo. I turn it over to see the name 'Poppy Mendez' written on the back and nod to myself. I have seen Poppy drawing the same horse over these last two weeks. Each week she's used different media to do it.

Something about this horse makes me feel like it is more than just a drawing for her art project. I feel that it means something. The horse looks like it is running away from something.

When I was younger, I had a fear of being out of control and my teacher recommended that I take up drawing as it is a metaphor for control. I can put whatever I want on the paper and it's all my choice.

Don't think I'm a control freak. I'm not. I just don't like feeling like I can't do anything about a problem. Feeling helpless was part of the fear. Drawing helped me control that. It's a little confusing, but it helps me.

So, I found my talent of drawing and decided to become an art teacher.

Poppy Mendez. When I first saw her I thought 'Wow, this girl is beautiful'. Then I mentally shouted at myself. She's your fucking student Kieran.

Poppy was sat at the back of the class room with another girl and boy. She was looking down, but she looked up when the classroom went quiet. Her eyes were absolutely beautiful and her blonde hair frames her face perfectly as it trails down to her waist.

There was something about her that caught my attention. The way she watched me clearly showed attraction, but also showed caution. Something about the way she holds herself, hints to me that she has one hell of a bad story behind her. Poppy was very shy. When I spoke to her, I instantly felt bad. She clearly hates attention.

After two weeks of being at this school, she hasn't come out of her shell at all. Only around Aria she relaxes. If I glance over at her when it's just her and Aria at the table and Blake is off somewhere else, I see a different side to her. Briefly, she looks happy and care free. When Blake is around, she's not as relaxed.

I glance at the clock on my wall, it reads 4:00pm. To be honest, marking art work is not boring, but I'm hungry and I can't leave until I have finished marking the progress of Poppy's class.

My eyes drift around the class room and land on a grey zip up hoodie that is lay in a heaped mess on the floor beneath the seat where Poppy sits.

I get up and go to the back of the class room and pick it up. Yep, it's Poppy's. I've seen her wear it under her blazer on slightly chillier days. Today being one of them.

I'll find her tomorrow and give it to her. Folding the jumper up, I place it on the front table and sit back at my desk to finish my marking.

About ten minutes later, I hear a soft knocking at my door. Without looking to see who it is, I just wave my hand signalling for them to come in.

"Sir, did I leave my hoodie here? It's grey." Asks a soft voice and I instantly look up to see Poppy stood there. I stand up come round to the front of my desk, taking hold of the hoodie to hand it to her.

"There you go, Poppy." I say with a warm smile which she responds to with a small one of her own before taking a step back.

"Thank you." She says..

"What are you doing here so late?" I ask since school finished an hour ago.

"Aria had band rehearsals and I stuck around." She answers quietly. Just as she does, her phone goes off and she picks it up to read the text message. As she's reading it, all the color drains from her face and her eyes go wide, filling with tears.

"Poppy?" I ask cautiously and she turns around, hiding her face from me. "What's wrong?" I press. I'm worried about her. This girl is genuinely terrified about something and as her teacher, it's my job to look out for her.

"Nothing." She barely chokes out.

"Poppy, I know there's something you don't want me to find out, but I can help you." I don't go any closer to her. I want Poppy to trust me and she obviously doesn't like men.

"No, you can't help me." She barely whispers.

"Yes, I can." I confirm. "You can trust me, believe it or not. Just for me to listen to you is me helping you. It can feel like a ton of bricks has been lifted off your chest if you talk about it."

"You sound like you know what your talking about." She breaths out past the knot in her throat as she tries desperately hard not to cry in front of me.

"I had my problems too, when I was younger. Problems I expressed through art. Just like you do." I say and await her response. Poppy still isn't facing me and I have sat on the front table.

"What are you talking about, Mr Reynolds?" She asks in a little more of a demanding tone.

"That galloping horse you constantly draw. It's running away from something, just like you want to. Isn't it?" I know I've hit the truth when she takes a deep breath and turns to look at me.

"You're the only person to have ever seen through my drawings." Poppy says in an almost unbelieving tone.

"I observe people." I state. "So, are you going to tell me what text scared you?" I return the subject back to the text.

Poppy takes a very deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. "It was from my real father." She confesses.

"Your real father?" I question.

"I'm adopted." Poppy admits and she hangs her head, shuffling her feet around slightly.

"Okay. What did your real father say." I ask. She looks at me, almost confused that I  wasn't shocked by her being adopted. From personal experience, I know it's horrible when people ask four million questions about being adopted.

"He wants to find me. I don't even know how he found my number." She says a little frightened.

"People have their ways. Why are you so scared for him to find you? Do you remember him?" I say a little confused.

"I remember him. And the daily beatings that ended up with me a mess on the floor." Poppy mumbles. Anger floods through me and I take a deep breath. That's why she's so wary of men. Her own father beat her.

"Oh Poppy.." I say feeling truly awful for her. She buries her face in her hands.

"I don't even know why I told you this. The only people that know about what happened are my parents and Jacob." Her voice is muffled from behind her hands.

"Jacob? Who's that?" I shift so that I am facing her dead on.

"He's my ex, and he too, took delight in beating me." She laughs sarcastically. "Why do I let myself get close to people?" Poppy asks herself and I answer for her.

"Because your human." I say in a matter-of-fact tone and I can't help myself anymore. I have to comfort her somehow.

Warily, I reach my hand out to her and place it on her shoulder. Poppy flinches but doesn't move. Her body is tense, however she hasn't run ten mile in the other direction yet. I stand up and wrap my arms around her. At first she tries to step back, but then she gives in to her need to feel comforted and lets herself lean against my chest and the tears begin to flow.

"I won't let anyone hurt you again, Poppy." I reassure her.