Dream Catch Me (Student/Teacher)

Dream Catch Me - Chapter Fifteen

'Reyes' his tattoo read as he leant against the counter. Reyes, I'd have to look that up... But right now, I was quite distracted with Mr Lewis standing in front of me, his presence making me shrink inside myself and cause me to step back. It was mainly from the surprise of him entering the shop, he didn't seen like the person to read books, more like a person who would shoot guns and do drugs in his spare time. I now felt like the shop had been tainted somehow, that his presence had brought in a dark feeling that seeped into the cracks in the store and between the pages in the books.

I didn't answer to his reply, but I was extremely conscious of Joe out the back, but then again Mr Lewis seemed evil enough to have planned something like that to happen. Then again, there was no way of knowing. Mr Lewis was right up against the front counter now, his arms spread out and his hands resting intimidatingly on the surface. To be honest with you, he did have very nice hands; tanned, feminine yet manly... Although those hands had touched so many female students, I didn't even want to do the Maths. I currently knew of about 3, but by the cocky tone that was constantly housed in Mr Lewis' attitude made me believe there were several more.

He started tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter. As if waiting for me to say something, but I was too scared. I was once again one on one with this creep and the last time that happened I got a fist to my gut. I mentally prayed and prayed that Joe would walk right through that door.

"I think this is the part where you're supposed to ask what I need help looking for?" Lewis commented in a smart-arse attitude. It was funny because I am the teenager here, I am supposed to have the attitude, not him.

"Sir.." I started very cautiously. Knowing what he was capable of made me extremely wary of him. "What do you need help with?" I asked with no emotion to my voice. I was trying to hide behind the mask that was holding my fear behind it.

"Well! Thanks for asking Miss Reddington. Now I was looking for the murder or thriller section. Perhaps something heavy with violence. I love a good thriller book." he seemed to be making a point. Especially by the emphasis on 'murder' and 'violence' he put on those words.

"Certainly," I replied, and I stepped out from behind the counter. There was no longer that boundary between us, making that fist to my stomach seem more inevitable than it was before. Where was Joe? A normal phone call shouldn't take that long! I gestured with my arm out towards the back of the store, allowing him to walk in front of me. We stopped at the shelf labelled 'murder mysteries/thriller novels' and I scanned the shelves nervously, along with Lewis as he stood close beside me, breathing heavily as he read the spines of the books.

"Ah hah!" he suddenly shouted out, making me try to contain the yelp that almost left my throat. Lewis reached forward bumping my shoulder slightly, my chest clenching in the process and pulled out a book from the middle shelf. He turned the front towards me and I read "The schoolgirl murders" in a blood type font, dripping down the cover. "This sounds just like me!" he exclaimed.

I gulped. There was no way he wasn't trying to send me a message. I thought he would've got it by now that I wouldn't try to tell on him in any way at all possible. But apparently not, as he stepped closer pinning me to the bookshelf and allowing the ledge to dig into my back.

"It's funny Jane, you know what I heard the other day while roaming the school cafeteria?" Lewis spoke in a soft tone, but he wasn't deceiving me, I knew there was some underlying theme, told by his position over me.

"No? Jane has no idea? It's okay, I'll tell you. I heard someone say 'Oh my gosh! I heard from someone that Mr Lewis is getting cosy with some of his students!' and it sucks for you Jane because it seems that right now you're the only person who knows, so that puts you in a very vulnerable position." he started speaking to me like I was a three year old who was trying to understand the idea of scissors, but it soon turned nasty as it seemed he was willing to take those metaphorical scissors and slit my throat with them.