Echo

Chapter Two

Illusions.

To be specific, a form of sensory distortion, an illusion describes a misinterpretation of a true sensation. In my case I was hoping I wasn’t seeing him. I was hoping that his once grinning face hadn’t suddenly distorted to that of my nightmares.

My teacher’s body was slowly changing to a towering muscular frame, his hair growing slightly longer to those waves which I was planning to eventually forget. His whole face sharpening to those of which men all across the world could only aspire for. Yet his crystal eyes, the only thing that hadn’t miraculously morphed.

I knew they were familiar.

His booming laughter racketed around the classroom, breaking me free from my reverie as the window panes slightly rattled. The corners of his lips lifted, a small smirk appearing on his face, his unnaturally beautiful face.

“Of course they were familiar, sunshine.” he sneered, leaning forward so our faces were inches apart. My breath seeming to get stuck in my throat, as any response I had was abruptly stopped, “I haven’t left you yet.” He finished.

My eyes wouldn’t sway from his, it was like they were stuck, hypnotized by this man, this immortal, man. They didn’t waver even when he lifted his hand to softly stroke my cheek.

“Did you think you were free?” He whispered, his smirk forming into a giant smile at my obvious lack for words, those teeth gleaming with satisfaction.

“I-I-,” I stuttered, to shocked and engrossed with the slight burn his hands left on my own flaming cheeks. My responses were too incoherent, not even my brain could understand through the jumbled mess which was my thoughts.

He’s doing this.

I hadn’t seen this man since I was ten, he’d only ever stopped by twice in my life, that time when I almost drowned, and then, on my tenth birthday, when I was surrounded by my loving mother who had wrapped endless presents in my favourite colour. Blue.

Crystal blue.

Prick. It was obvious he had taken up most of my thoughts since I was a child.

He had even weaselled his way inside my dreams, his smile, and those eyes, that laugh. He never truly left; I knew that, I was just hoping that he would never return back to me in the flesh.

“But I’m back, sunshine,” the light breeze of his breathe hit my ear, “and I’m staying.” I shivered, the hairs on my arms standing up in answer.

“W-what do you want?” I asked barely above a whisper, his head snapped back as his eyebrows shot up at my response, obviously not suspecting that I would be able to talk. Neither was I to be honest.

I didn’t dare move from under his hands, didn’t dare to even blink as I continued to watch his eyes glide over my face, taking in every last detail, down from the small mole that lived above my top lip to the pale scar which ran above my left eyebrow, one of which he was familiar with.

One of which he had seen happen, over thirteen years ago. He hadn’t changed one bit.

His thumb swept over the scar, clearly entranced as his continued to rub it softly, almost as he was trying to erase it.

You wish, a voice hissed in my head.

My head snapped up, ripping free from his hold. My hair gliding through his fingers as he stood motionless, but the small grin on his face could be described as a warning, a warning to run.

“H-how did you-”

Do that? His laughed echoed in my mind. I just nodded, automatic response.