Beggin'

Chapter 4

Clara

This is not happening, there is no way this is happening...

I pace back and forth in the bathroom, the fluorescent lights seem to mock me, making my dark circles the same reddish-purple color as the fingerprints on my throat. My breath is sharp and my heart is fluttering in my chest, how do I explain this? How does this happen to me?

I turn towards the mirror a grimace on my face as gently touch the bruises, a dull pain begins to beat along with my pounding pulse as I quickly try to cover it up with concealer, my shaking hands rattling the bottle. My mouth is paper dry and my jaw aches from clenching it. My skin is paler than usual and there's a crazed spark in my usually dull eyes.

This doesn't make any sense, I mean it was just a dream wasn't it? It all happened in my head so why are there bruises on my neck saying otherwise?

I bite my tongue to contain the half frustrated, half afraid scream that's currently trying to crawl its way up my throat. Letting out a heavy sigh I finish up the rest of my makeup and cover the reddish-purple marks with a scarf, good thing it's supposed to rain today or else everyone would think I was crazy.

A wave of goosebumps settle over me as a shiver rolls down my spine, it feels as though someone's watching me through the mirror. Although, that's impossible so I brush it off as the air conditioner and leave for school, quickly walking past my parents at the table. They're angry words ping-ponging from the ends of the table, fighting's all they do now adays, I guess it's because in a year I'm leaving for college and my brother's joining highschool with my sister. All of this means that money is tight.

You know how people put rubber bands to keep the money together? Well it feels like my neck replaced the dollar bills everytime my parents fight, and it's all because of me. The guilt weighs me down like an anchor, causing me to focus extra on my schoolwork. If my parents are going to send me to college even though it'll be hard on them, than the least I could do is get excellent grades and try for any scholarship I can get my hands on.

My sister calls me a nerd, my brother doesn't really care, and at this my parents view my great grades as an expectation instead of an achievement. That hits really hard sometimes.

I shake those negative thoughts out of my head, and play my new playlist in the car, blasting it since my siblings are leaving later than me. My brother because his school starts later and my sister because she thinks that review periods (optional classes that are mean't for you to ask your teachers questions and study) are a waste of time.

Funny she says that when she's flunking out of history because she doesn't need to study when she can just manifest good grades. It's really hard to believe we're siblings, I get told that a lot and each time I have to refrain from saying something sarcastic. Instead I just smile and say we're different in a good way but really similar at the same time.

I park my car in my unassigned-assigned parking spot and head inside, a cold presence filling the air as I quicken my steps. My nerves still frayed from my dream and this morning, you could say I was a little jumpy.

I walk through the front office but before I can rush past, the principal stops me.

"Clara, good morning!" she chirps happily and given how early it was it was kind of strange, but I brushed it off. I wish I woke up like that everyday but alas I'm stuck in my own head. Which is not a great place to be.

"Good morning, Mrs. Haynes," I muster a smile and try to slowly walk away but before I can even turn around, she has me walking into her office.

"This is Clara, one of our very best students and a senior meaning she'll be in your class," she sing-songs my introduction, to the back of a man wearing a dark coat, which is a little much even for her.

"Hello, Mr..." I wait for him to introduce himself to me. He turns and I jump in shock, banging my knee into Mrs. Haynes desk and biting my tongue.

"Mr. Riddle, Tom Riddle. Pleasure to meet you, Clara. I will be your substitute in Physics," he finishes. His familiar voice haunting me and distracting me from what he had just said in that delectable tone. His lithe and muscular build tower over me, his beautiful and sharp features easily distracting Mrs. Haynes. Disgusting.

"Wait, what about Mr. Smith? Did you fi-"

Mrs. Haynes cuts me off, "Mr. Smith had an unfortunate tumble down the stairs and is currently in the hospital recovering, but until his health is in tip-top shape, Mr. Riddle will instruct you."

I swallow my words, I want to scream and shake Mrs. Haynes and tell her that this man is no good. He's evil, he's cruel, he probably pushed Mr. Smith down the stairs.

Those long, pale fingers reach up to drag a hand through his dark hair, his eyes finding mine a challenge in them and a dangerous smirk on his face. The fingers that had squeezed and squeezed until I was gasping for breath, until I felt like a silent play-thing to be laughed at. No, Mr. Riddle can't teach here any longer. Who knows what he'll do to his students, what he'll do to me.

Mr. Riddle holds his hand out to shake mine and I hesitate a little, looking at Mrs. Haynes with fear in my eyes but she just gestures at me to hurry up. The oxygen leaving my lungs, given the suspense, as I put my hand in his. His hands that look so cold turn out to full of warmth as he tightens his grip on my fingers, his calculating eyes zeroeing in on my scarf, and what exactly I was hiding underneath the pretty fabric.

I pull my hand back quickly before asking Mrs. Haynes if I could go since I needed the extra study period.

"Almost dear, there's just one more thing I have to ask of you," she continues and unlike Mr. Riddle doesn't notice how my hands and knees are shaking, my face a lot paler than usual, "We got some new students today that will be in your classes. Talented children like yourself and I was hoping you could show them around the school, let them tag along until they find their way to all their subjects."

"No problem, Mrs. Haynes," I agree quickly, eager to escape his demanding stare and hide in the nearest bathroom until my breath returns.

Mrs. Haynes leads me out of her office and into the waiting room in the front office and just then I'd almost wished I'd stayed with Mr. Riddle and babbling Mrs. Haynes because what greeting me was just as bad.

Three, ridiculously tall and handsome boys all focus their attention on me. A fluffy brunette that had a pack of cigarettes hanging out of his pocket, a boy with dark curls and scar across his nose. The last of the three was the tallest by only about an inch and had platinum blonde hair parted in the middle, his blue-grayish eyes finding mine.

You've got to be fucking joking.

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