Nothing I try seem to be of use. Mr. Hale's breathing is irregular and he is just gasping for air. I feel so powerless right now, the best option is to go find someone, but I can't leave him like this. Standing up, I want to go get my phone that's in the backpack I tossed somewhere in panic, but Mr. Hale grabs my wrist and pulls me back down. His grip is strong and hurts, but feels like he did it on a reflex, because no matter how many times I call his name and tell him to let go, to breathe slower, Mr. Hale is completely mind-absent.
Me: Talk to me, Mr. Hale. I don't know what to do.
Not able to leave, but I am not doing much anything here either, I panic. Noticing a phone on the desk, I reach for it, but it's too far. Next plan is to pry my arm from the grip. Sliding my fingertips slightly under Mr. Hale's, I start wiggling them to loosen the hold, but he is so much stronger and at this point I might just end up with twisted fingers.
Every second counts and all I can do is brush Mr. Hale's hair out of his face. He is really sweaty, probably coming down with a sliggt fever as well. I rest my palm against his cheek and try to get him to look at me. Mr. Hale's eyes flicker between crimson and emerald. At one point it gets stuck with one eye red, the other green. For that split second, a memory flashes through my mind. It feels like I have seen eyes like that somewhere else, but the memory is hazy and all I can remember is just the eyes. I can't be thinking about some random memory right now.
I start to feel a pressence inside my head. Mr. Hale must be using his powers on accident so I try to push him out, but all I get is a sharp pain around temples. I have to do something before the situation gets worse. While brushing Mr. Hale's face, I get an idea I might regret later, but right now I am running out of options and I hate to see him suffering like this.
Me: Get a grip, Killian.
I let go of Mr. Hale's face only for my palm to meet up with it again with a force. The slap worked and emerald orbs are staring wide at me. The grip on my wrist loosens, allowing me to reclaim my arm and massage the pain away. I apologize, but I can't help the snort when I see my palm imprinted on Mr. Hale's cheek. Quickly composing myself, I go back into serious mode and check on him, asking Mr. Hale if he is okay.
Mr. Hale: I am now, but a bit shocked at the treatment.
Me: It worked, didn't it? I am still sorry about it though.
Mr. Hale: Don't be, I liked it.
Me: You are one of those, huh?
Mr. Hale: Oh, not the slap, that hurt as hell. You pack a punch. I am talking about you calling me by my name.
Me: What? I did not.
My brain is a mush and I am trying to scramble together any memories of me calling Mr. Hale by his first name, but I can't think properly. Stuttering, I start saying he must have imagined things and I can't prevent the blush painting my whole face red. Mr. Hale cups my cheeks and I look down, wanting to hide or be gone. His hand is warm and gentle, not caloused like Draco's palma are. Remembering Draco added fuel to the growing guilt that has been sitting on my chest since the fight they had at the ball. I push Mr. Hale away and stand up, planning to leave, again, but I get stopped.
Mr. Hale: Can you stay a bit longer?
Me: I don't think that's a good idea.
Me. Hale: You are right. I am sorry for asking something ridiculous.
It isn't ridiculous at all and I can relate to what he is feeling a little bit. That suffocating loneliness and fear of being alone, but I think it's not fair towards Draco to stay here. Despite all that, I can't make my body to move and leave.
YOU ARE READING
Hallor Chronicles
FantasíaHave you ever thought when you were little that you could have magical powers? Maybe you did but then you grew up and you forgot about it. But what if I told you that there are people with these special gifts? They could be you, or me, or your class...
