Another message comes in and I throw my phone into my bag out of frustration. I don't need to check it to know it's from Avi. He has been flooding my phone with calls and messages since Friday, even though I haven't answered any of them. Why should I? I have nothing more to say to him. This is for the best; I hate that he can't know the truth, but I don't want a friendship tangled up in heavy lies.
The driver drops me near the main entrance of the mansion, then heads to the parking lot at the side. Only now do I remember that I will be spending the rest of my Wednesday with William. I'm in no condition to deal with his games today. I sit in the front garden trying to come up with an excuse to blow off my tutor, but my mind keeps drifting back to the last conversation I had with Avi. Luckily, our schedules aren't similar except for Fridays, but even so, I had to dodge him a few times on campus.
I bring my problems with me into the cold bath, hoping they would soak away and all would be right again. There is a knock on my bedroom door. "Who is it?" I shout, hoping my voice will travel well all the way to the bedroom.
A few seconds pass and the knock comes to the external bathroom door - the one that's connected to the hallway. The other door is already open and leads directly into my bedroom. A pleasant, aged voice talks behind the locked door. I can't hear clearly, but I know it's the head butler: Jennings.
I drape a towel across my waist and meet him at the door. "Pardon my intrusion, but Mr. Finley is waiting for you downstairs," he says, observing just how much water I'm getting on the floor.
"I'm not feeling well today. Let him know that today's session is canceled. Thanks," I say, softly. I'm about to close the door, but Jennings' patent shoes prevent me from doing so.
"Ahem. I'm sure you are aware that Mr. Langston will not be pleased to hear that you are blowing off your responsibilities. I can get you some medicine and tea to help you feel better. However, it's best that you go to your lesson." He says it in a way that makes it obvious that he knows I'm lying. "Will you be coming down, young man or should I send Mr. Finley up?"
I sigh, massaging my forehand. Jennings is right and I don't want to have to deal with Mr. Langston even though I'm sure he is not at home right now. "I'll get ready and come down," I sulk at Jennings.
"Very good, sir. I will inform Mr. Finley."
He removes his foot from the doorway and leaves, and I return to the bath. I never thought I would say this, but I miss my old life in the slums. There was no proper heating, I didn't have air conditioning nor any of the luxuries of this mansion, but I had the freedom to do as I pleased. I take my time to get ready, then drag myself downstairs to the room repurposed for my tutoring.
William is pacing the room and talking on his cellphone. I keep a straight face as I walk by while keeping my guard up. He's ending his conversation when a maid knocks softly on the open door before entering. She carries the tray of tea paraphernalia and a selection of teabags. She makes the tea of my choice in view and hands me pills for pain and fever. She offers William a cup too before she leaves.
About fifteen minutes pass before William finally says what he's been itching to, "How much longer must I wait for an apology?"
"Apology for what?" I ask with an air of confusion.
He leans back in his chair and rests his feet on top of the desk. The irritation clouding his eyes is clear. "I've been sitting here, waiting for you for about half an hour. You didn't even have the manners to at least greet me when you came into the room. I shouldn't even have to ask for an apology."
I roll my eyes at the deranged pervert before returning my attention to the textbook. I knew from the beginning that he was going to say some nonsense. If anyone needs to apologize, it's clearly him. A white board marker grazes my ear and frightens me. I look up at William who is crossed about his poor aim. I've never seen him on edge like this before. It would be wise not to upset him any further, but as usual I don't listen to the voice of reason in the back of my head.
YOU ARE READING
Forgotten.
عاطفيةZyon Ashiba is a poor 18-year-old boy in his final year of high school. On his way home from school one rainy day, he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. In the fateful accident where he faced death, he desperately beg...
