love, love, love : of monsters and men
she rolled her eyes with yet another boring lecture. she looked around casually.
other children sat around her, all between the ages of eight and ten. all girls.
the classes at xavier's school for gifted children were separated. every and any school on earth was separated.
every girl wore a grey plaid skirt starting just above their belly buttons and ending a hand below their knees. their blouses were a cream color, horribly drab, and were button-down long flouncy sleeves.
she looked at the clock and back to the professor. he stood on his desk stage, in his professor gown, and talking about the life of professor and headmaster xavier.
she adjusted her shirt, it was unimaginably uncomfortable.
the bell rang three distinct times, interrupting the professor. she grinned and hurried to gather her things into her arms.
she was the first to the door, but a large hand clamped the back of her collar and pulled her back into the room. this allowed the other girls to flood into the hall, mixing with the boys in the walk to the courtyard.
"miss rebecca," he spoke with his distinct sharpness. she looked up at him. his face was elongated, sharp and acute, extremely unfriendly.
she frowned.
"how dare you roll your eyes during my lectures," he started. "i'm here for your good. i teach for your good. it's extremely rude not to pay attention-"
"professor i-"
"silence!" he backhanded her so hard her ears rang, much like the bell that almost saved her. "you will not interrupt your professor when he is talking!"
he stepped onto his stage and opened the desk drawer, things rattled inside. he pulled out a frank piece of wood.
he stepped down once more.
"bend over," he hissed the command. she set her things on the ground and placed her hands on the front desk, leaning obediently.
he brought the coarse wood onto her rear end violently. she counted: 1, 2, 3, 4...
10, 11, 12, 13...
20...
30...
she lost count passed 40. she bit down on her tongue with each blistering blow. he finally stopped.
she turned back to see him wipe his forehead with the arm of the robe, his hair was wet.
he dismissed her. she gathered her things and ran into the open hall, down the outdoor corridors.
she ran down the beaten path between groomed trees and finally into the valley. she walked the rest of the way, uncontrollable tears made treks down her soft cheeks.
she stopped in front of the fence and looked out to the other side. the other side was thick with apple trees, she'd never had an apple. she didn't remember life outside.
all she knew was the school.
but she knew the boy who lived on the other side. within minutes, he appeared down the middle row.
he tossed a perfectly red apple into the air, only to catch it. he did this over and over until he realized she was crying.
he stopped and looked at her, yards away.
he walked with a purpose now.
"beck? beck what's wrong?" he made it to the fence.
"the professor," she mumbled. she struggled to stop her crying. she dropped her things to the ground again, dirty spread on the open pages of her notebook - filled with his initials.
this boy was older than her. he was probably fourteen. she never asked because it didn't matter to her. all that mattered was him and their daily rendezvous.
"what'd he do to you?" his voice was raw.
"he hit me again," she strained her voice so the professor's act wouldn't sound all that horrible.
he dropped the apple and gripped the chain of the fence with violence. his face turned quickly into anger, "i'll kill that son of a bitch!"
he hissed with fury, shaking the fence. she began to shake.
"james, please," she spoke softly. her voice was a vase on the edge of a table, with one swift movement it would shatter. "please."
he let go of the fence, and began to pace.
"this isn't okay. he can't treat you like this. you're just a kid," he stopped with his back to her. she looked at his tightened body against his button-down shirt.
she looked at her mud-covered shoes.
"guys shouldn't hit girls," he said and looked at her. "guys can hit guys all they want, look at my grandpa. but guys shouldn't hit girls, and no one should hit you."
"you never told me your grandpa hits you," she looked at him softly. despite his anger, despite his rage, he loved her. he cared for her.
"miss rebecca," she opened her eyes. "are you ready?"
she looked at the doctor and down at her mud-covered shoes, "i suppose."
YOU ARE READING
knock on wood | howlett
Fanfiction" there's this old habit of knocking on wood. they say it releases evil spirits, that it ensures good luck. we could use some of that, huh? " • { disclaimer : I do not own the marvel franchise, the characters, movie/comic/novel plot lines, or rights...
