Truth Chasers

Chapter Fifteen

Friday 24th August, 2040.
Dalton Academy- Section 1, Quarter 1.
11:05am
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I'm highly aware I look like a zombie. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night. I got dressed for school with a banging headache and searched my room for my U-card but it was nowhere to be found. I don't know if I left it at school or if it got lost somehow after I discarded all the books from my bedroom desk.

Reflexively, I try stretching my fingers out and end up feeling a sharp pain that makes me wince. My knuckles are sore and throbbing. My fingers ache and I am having a difficult time straightening them out or even forming fists because it feels like the slightest movement from them could rip my skin apart. But every time I think about dad, I intentionally form a fist so that the pain can distract me from my hurt.

Class by class goes by without me paying the slightest attention. That is until it's time for History. Mr Miller asks us to bring out our selected books from the library and everyone, I notice, has a book but me. He goes through them one by one giving his approval to some and requesting a couple students to get something else. When he gets to my seat and sees nothing, his eyebrows furrow. He passes by me to the next person without saying a word. We spend the rest of the period learning about another aspect of the Catalyst. But I can't focus. My thoughts keep drifting in and out of class.

I can't stop myself from thinking about how Mr Miller needs to give me some form of answers. I need more clues. I want to know specifically what book I am to borrow. When class is over, I wait behind to speak with him.

"Mr Miller." I say once we're alone in the classroom.

"Miss Cohen!" He's packing papers into his brief case. "What can I do for you?"

I choose my words carefully. I want him to know I'm fully aware of what is going on. He's in on whatever game the note leaver is playing with me. 
"I couldn't find the book."

His eye twitches. It's hardly a noticeable movement. But I notice it. He follows the silence with a laugh. A nervous one. "Miss Cohen, I told everyone to go to the library and get a book. You could have picked anyone you wanted."

I keep my breathing controlled. "That's not the truth." I throw the words from the note back at him and hope he drops all the pretense.

"Huh?"

I'm getting frustrated with this. "I would like you to recommend a book to me." I deadpan.

He shakes his head and snaps his brief case shut down suddenly that I jump. My flightiness has worsened after the whole Inwood's ordeal. Great! "That's not how this works Miss Cohen. It would be unfair to the rest of the students."

"The problem, Mr Miller, is that there are too many books at the national library. I think a recommendation from you would help me choose wisely." His jaw tenses. I hope more than ever that he cracks.

"I have a meeting with other teachers in about a minute. So how about you head on down to the cafeteria and I'll see you next week."

He can't do this to me. This is torture. Pure unadulterated torture. I've bent over backwards, had sleepless nights and thought over and over about this but I failed. I am so tired of failing. So tired of being pushed around. There is no one that will save me. There is no one I can turn to. Not even my own father. I pull one of my hands into a tight fist that causes a pain so sharp to run through me that my breathing falters slightly. I am my own protector. "No." I grind out through my teeth.

"Miss Cohen you should go for lunch—" he begins to protest.

"I am not hungry and I cannot bear not having a recommendation from you!" I'm sure if he denies me this, it could kill me. If the stress of the situation doesn't get to me first, then the killer probably will. He stares at me as I have basically poured out my desperation all over him. It smears and splashes over his table and drips to the floor. My breathing is ragged and I am close to tears. "Please." I add for good measure.