The Drama With My Drama Teacher

A Chelsea Smile

A Chelsea Smile

There are slits in my face all the way to my ears. A beautiful smile.

I am a Cheshire Cat. A Chelsea Cheshire Cat and I grin. It's nice to meet you, Sir. Sir. Mr Howard. Excuse me sir, this blood is mine.

My hands are being held above my head and I can't move them. I don't own them anymore. They do not belong to me and they are not mine to control. With just one hand he can defeat my fragile wrists.

His hand reaches out for my waist and I cry out in repulsion, fighting and trying to kick at his large stomach in an attempt to get him off of me.

He smiles, a grin reaching from his ear all the way around his fat face to his other ear. A Chelsea smile. Is he the Cheshire cat? Or am I?

His hand drops from below my waist, to my legs, scraping his nails against the outside of my thigh. I squirm, and he laughs.

He's the Cheshire Cat and this is his wonderland. This is my nightmare. The cuts on my face get wider. A Chelsea smile is not a real smile, you know.

His hand is over my mouth and all I can taste is his flesh. Flesh is not meant to be consumed. Lips are not meant to be covered. Screams are not meant to be silenced.

"Be my good girl now" He repeats, and shifts his body so his full weight is pressing my leg into the wall at an awkward angle.

I scream in pain but it is muffled by his flesh. So much flesh. Flesh can bleed. I made him bleed before but now it is time for his vengeance. One knife cut won't leave a scar. A Chelsea smile marks you for a lifetime.

The bone of his knee is digging into my thigh and I can feel the flesh begin to tingle as it loses sensation. I wish I would lose all sensation. I do not want to feel anything.

He moves his hand from my mouth to my forehead, slamming the back of my head against the wall. I'm too dazed to shout for help in this momentary freedom.

Mr Howard moves his head onto mine, forcing his lips onto mine and pushing his tongue into my mouth. I bring my knees up to push him away but he is resilient.

When I finally get a hand free and bring it up to slap the side of his face sharply he retaliated by slamming my head into the wall again.

His tongue is in my mouth. His tongue is the blade. The more his weight hurts my leg the more I scream. The way he hurts me makes me scream. The more I scream, the wider my Chelsea smile becomes.

Excuse me sir, this blood is no longer mine.

Between my teeth is his tongue and before he can predict it I bite down as hard as I can. The taste of metal floods my mouth and he pulls away from me in disgust.

I force my legs to move and I begin to run down the corridor, ignoring the throbbing of my leg as it regains feeling and blood flows through it. I spit out the blood in my mouth onto the floor, and I dash down the corridor.

Bursting through the classroom door, I head straight for my things. "Chelsea!" Ben begins, noticing me, but I barely hear him. My head feels like it is in a fishbowl. My mouth tastes like it is in a slaughterhouse.

"I have to go" I say, and even as I speak I feel the blood from my Chelsea smile trickle down my lips. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, choosing not to look.

I grab my things from the floor, and stumble out of the classroom. The corridor is clear, except for the carnage on the floor.

Only a few drops of blood on the floor; not small enough to notice, but too large to ignore. Too painful to forget. What a big smile you have, Mr Wolf.