I used to brush off my mom's warnings about the difficulty of walking home and back, even though I lived in a struggling neighborhood with a dark criminal history. Despite the challenges, I loved the place because it felt like a real family.
One day, as I made my way home, a man in his 30s called out to me, waving his hand in a gesture for me to stop. Ignoring his demands, I picked up my pace, trying to appear nonchalant, but the sound of his heavy footsteps quickened behind me.
"Stop!" he bellowed, causing me to break into a sprint.
The echoes of water splashing from the earlier rain filled me with an immediate sense of panic.
Suddenly, I landed on the side of the curb, feeling a sharp pain in my ankle.
"What the hell are you running in heels for, sweetheart?" the man asked as he stared down at me. His eyelashes were fluttering, and I could see the glint of a black shiny object under his hoodie, but I couldn't really tell his eye color due to the tears in my eyes.
He reached out his hand to help me up.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were going to hurt me," I said as I shook his hand and smiled.
"I understand, it's wild around here. I would never hurt you, though. You dropped your folder," he said as he pulled out my baby pink folder with young pictures of me scattered all over it. It was filled with sketched bows, hearts, and half-ripped stickers.
"Oh my God, I am sorry. " I grabbed the folder.
Instantly Mr. Styles appeared in my mind with fear.
" My teacher is going to be so angry. He gave me like 3 of these already." The man gave me a sympathetic smile.
"I'm sorry about that. Can I offer to buy you another one?" He removed his hoodie exposing his muddy brown eyes. His beard nicely shaved and his hair in a man bun. Just a streak of it hanging down due to the hoodie pulling it.
"It's fine um I'm sure he'll understand" I nodded. He shrugged and shook my hand.
"Zayn"
"Beth...Bethlyn" I smiled
"Beautiful name, well I best be going yea?" I agreed on putting the folder in my bag.
"Keep up with that thing okay?" He walked backward-pointing and me. I nodded promising I will.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Cravings (REVISING AND REWRITING)
Teen FictionIn this story, a 15-year-old girl grows feelings for her 34-year-old teacher, but little does she know the man has dark secrets. Can her angelic, innocent aura fight off his demonic ways before she changes for the worse? ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
