My Teacher ♕ H.S.

Chapter 12

I walked into Physiology again after school to get my study on, I set my books down at the desks pushed together in the front. 

“Hello again.” I smile as he looks up from his computer. 

“Hello Monica.” He stands up and walks over with papers. “Here is what you missed yesterday. Get started on it.” He sets the papers down with a textbook. I stare at him oddly as he just walks away, leaving me to day this stuff on my own. 

I open the pages and try to do the questions, and look up to see Mr.Styles leaning back in his seat, observing me. I glance down at my paper, then back at him. “What.”

“Nothing.” He says shaking his head, then continuing to stare at me.

“Aren’t you supposed to help me on this? I mean, that is what tutoring is I think-”

“Why did you lie to me?” He says with a straight face, his green eyes burn into my face. 

Shit.

“Uh, what?” I ask, my palms sweat.

He stands up and takes a seat next to me. His hands move slowly up to my hair again. He places it behind my ear and then his eyes move to my purple cheek. His fingers ran over the mark and I winced and shot back, my own hand taking his spot but not giving me the warmth that he gave me. “Your mother hit you on purpose.” 

I looked into his eyes once again and I only saw sadness. I didn’t want to lie but I had too. “I-I have to go.” His hand grabs mine before I can go down the hall next time. 

I am the tallest girl in my class, but Mr.Styles is still at least 2 inches taller than me. He stood as he grabbed my wrist and I tried to fight back. “If it happens again-” His eyes scan over my forehead. 

Just great! Now I have to explain the mark on my fore head. “What’s that.” He pulls my head closer to examine it. 

“Oh that?” I pull up my phone and wipe it off, explain that it was make up. He nods and then I realize that we are only about and inch apart from each other. His mint breath is felt on my lips and I laugh awkwardly at the distance. 

“I-I need to go.” I stutter, grabbing my bag and successfully running down the hall.

~♥~♥~

  

I run home with tears threatening to spill, and I get to the front door and open it quickly. I hear my mother in the kitchen again, and I run up to my room before I can even get questioned. 

I slam and lock the door behind me before throwing my bag down. I jump onto my bed and cuddle into my pillow and just let everything do what it needs to do. 

I hate Mr.Styles. I hate him with a burning passion. Why did he have to ask me? Does he know that everything is not for him to know? It hurts me enough to have to think of the mark inflicted on my skin and memory. I have to live with the horrible excuse of a mother that had purposely caused this pain.