limerence | h.s.

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I sighed, placing yet another wool sweater inside of my travel bag. The pale morning light seeped through my partially opened curtains and onto my bed. A light frost covered the grass outside along with the dying trees, giving the illusion of snow. I heard the grandfather clock downstairs chime throughout the house seven times, making me jump slightly.

"Bexley!" My mum called from downstairs, her voice echoing up the staircase. "Hurry up, love, you're going to miss your train!"

Surveying the contents of my bag, I quickly scanned over the pile of sweaters, plaid skirts, and books, ranging from Jane Eyre to Wuthering Heights, two of my personal favorites that just so happened to be assigned reading at my new school. Then, turning around to face my floor length mirror, I scrutinized my appearance; my scratchy gray blazer with tan elbow patches, blue and black plaid skirt accompanied by black knee socks and oxfords. November in England is rather dull, and my outfit fit nicely with the atmosphere outside. My brown hair hung loosely around my face in natural waves, and my pale cheeks were flushed with excitement and nervousness, the pit of anxiety in my stomach gnawing at me.

When my father died two months ago, I stopped going to my school all together, for at least a little while, before the school board and my mother intervened and decided the best course of action would be to send me to a boarding school in South Cambridgeshire, St. Mary's, to help me stay out of trouble and get the education I 'needed.'

"Coming mum!" I shouted down, closing my suitcase and throwing on my navy blue peacoat, grabbing my train ticket that was sitting haphazardly on my desk and sticking it in my my coat's pocket.

...

I arrived at the train station in just the nick of time, as after I said a rushed goodbye to my mum and dashed on to the stairs leading up to a car, the conductor was already walking around collecting tickets. I sat down in an empty seat by the window and produced the ticket to show the elderly man, who gave me a polite smile and continued on his way down the car.

As the train pulled out of the station, I stared out at the grandeur of the city as it faded into dying trees whose leaves were muted colors; rolling hills and the great outdoors. Great. I pulled out my worn copy of Oliver Twist and opened it to my marked place, but quickly shut it after I had stared at the same sentence for five minutes. Too much on my mind, I suppose. 

I would miss my mum, obviously, but I had been dying to get away from her worrying about me every second and forcing me to talk to a shrink about how I was coping with my father's death. It wasn't that my father and I had been particularly close whilst he had been alive; he had always been at the office or 'staying late' after normal hours. I had walked in on him and his secretary about a year before he died of pneumonia. She was twenty-something and blonde, of course. I never told my mother about his affair; their marriage was already stressful enough, they didn't need another strain on it, especially when he got ill. And then he died.

All that aside, the main thing on my mind during the duration of the trip, well, besides how incredibly nervous I felt, was that I sure hoped there would be something, or someone, at St. Mary's to distract me from the shit show that was my life. 

...

[author's note]

I know this is short and just a filler type chapter, but I can't start off this story with the smut, ladies and gentlemen, but trust me, it'll be there soon ;) 

but please leave me any feedback, as that would be greatly appreciated! I will try to update this story as often as possible (it was vary based on how school is).