Let Me Kiss Your Scars(Student/Teacher)

Chapter Four

Picture is Jason

My hands mindlessly strummed my black tattered acoustic guitar. As I was playing, Mr. Edwards popped into my mind. I grabbed my song book and pencil next to me and jotted down lyrics.

"What the hell did I tell you about playing that thing in my fucking house!" my father boomed from my doorway, interrupting my writing process.

"I'm sorry sir. I lost track of time, I thought you were still out." My father hated when I played my guitar, it reminded him of my mother. When I was about thirteen my mother left us for some guy in a band. That's when my father began to hit and touch me.

"I don't give a shit if I'm dead, you are not permitted to play that piece of garbage," he came over and snatched my guitar from me.

"You can't do that, I paid for it with my own money!"

He came to a halt and slowly turned to face me, a menacing look on his face. Shit, keep your mouth shut Parker. My father angrily threw my guitar into the hallway before darting toward me.

"Don't you ever tell me what I can and can't do. Do you understand me, you ungrateful little bitch," he sneered as he grabbed a fist full of my hair and pulled with all his might.

"Yes, I understand," I squealed.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir."

He snickered and let go of his hold on my hair, spitting on me before leaving. My breathing picked up as I ran to my bathroom and threw drawers open until I found some pill bottles. I grabbed as many as I could and chucked them on the counter.

My dead eyes stared back at me as I glared at my reflection in the mirror. The pent up tears I was holding back finally fell from my eyes as I poured a variety of pills into my palm.

A hand reached to my shoulder and rubbed it.

"Parker put those pills away."

"K-Kellin?" I chocked out.

"It's me Parks. Please don't make the mistake I made," he stated, pointing to the bullet hole on his forehead.

My eyes flew open as I came back to reality and I dropped the pills, as if they had suddenly burned my hands. Tears continuously streamed down my cheeks as I crawled into my bed, pulling the sheets to my chin.

...

I woke up the next morning much earlier than usual, in order to avoid my father. As I made my way out the door my dad came down the stairs.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going this early?" he hissed.

Instead of responding, I slammed the door and ran to school. I was definitely going to pay the price for that move, but I stopped caring at this point. I groaned as I sat on a bench in front of the school, over a half an hour early. Reaching inside my jacket, I pulled a smashed package of cigarettes out and lit one.

"Miss Davis what are you doing here so early?" Mr. Edwards asked as he appeared in front of me. "And smoking?"

"My, uh, dad had to go to work early," I stated, conjuring up the best excuse possible. I threw the cigarette to the ground and put it out with my shoe.

"Well, no use sitting in this cold for thirty minutes. Come to my room."

I sat there for a moment, almost in shock, as he made his way to the door. "Are you coming or not?" he called out. I gathered my belongings before joining him.

The music room had always been my favorite place in the school, aside from the bathroom. Kellin and I used to come in here at lunch and play with all the instruments. Mrs. Stein, the old music teacher, loved us and sometimes even played songs with us.

"D-Do you mind if I play?" I asked him, picking my favorite guitar from the stand.

"No, please do."

I took a seat on a nearby stool, Mr. Edwards sitting in front of me. The tune of Ed Sheeran's Photograph sounded throughout the room. Looking at Mr. Edwards while playing proved to be a difficult task, so I focused my attention on the guitar. Ed was one of my favorite artists, and his lyrics meant the world to me.

"You are an amazing guitar player," he praised when my playing came to a stop, causing me to blush profusely.

"Thanks, my mom taught me how to play when I was little." I surprised myself a bit by sharing this little piece of information with him. I was forced to be a rather guarded person due to my father and classmates. Mr. Edwards was the only person, aside from Kellin, that I had opened up to. Even if it was as simple as where I had learned to play guitar.

"Momma's little girl huh?" he smirked.

"Not so much," I frowned, setting the guitar down.

"I'm so sorry Parker, I didn't mean to say anything to hurt you."

"I was beginning to think you didn't know my first name, you always call me Miss Davis." Now it was my to smirk. My fingers traced the smile on my lips in awe.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, staring at my hand on my lip.

"Nothing, I just haven't genuinely smiled in a long time."

"I'm glad I can make you smile."

Mr. Edwards and I talked about everything under the sun until the bell rang. Talking to him felt so natural, and made me feel...safe. It was almost too good to be true.

"Thank you Mr. Edwards. I'm sure you would have liked to do anything other than talk to me all morning."

"It's not a problem, I enjoyed myself." He smiled and waved as I opened the door to leave, but he gently grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. "By the way, you can call me Jason outside of the classroom."

I stepped out of his classroom before saying, "Bye Jason."