Love Me Anyway (A student-teacher relationship)

Chapter Thirteen

This chapter is.... boring. Yea.... It's a filler

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I didn’t look at him as I gave him Nicole’s address. I hesitated when he stopped in front of her house, opening my mouth to say something, apologize maybe, but the cold look he had on his face as he stared out the windshield halted my words. I shut my mouth, opened my door and slid from the car. He didn’t wait for me to go inside like he did last time, driving away when I had barely taken three steps from the car. His quick retreat made my heart throb, but it was actually in my advantage. I was planning on entering Nicole’s house only until he drove away, and then returning home, but he had spared me from having to face my friend, who would surely be bubbling with questions.

I stood for a moment after his car disappeared around a sharp corner. My able fist clenched by my side, and my teeth gritted together as I began the stiff walk home. I wouldn’t have to worry about my dad for a while. My broken hand should keep him contented at least until his next visit home. It seemed like my guitar had been grating most on his nerves this time around, and now that I couldn’t play it I shouldn’t run into any problems.

The door shut behind me with a nice click, and barred off from the world, I finally let a few tears slip down my cheeks.

I was such a deluded little slut, letting fantasies run rampant through my mind. I was wasting my time hoping for the impossible, letting myself fall into some silly, shallow game with no winner. I was falling for my teacher, and not just his looks, but the actual man. It wasn’t something stupid and unimportant like all the other girls in  school. It was stupid, but it was real.

I cared about him. That much was evident by the ache that was consuming my chest and weighing down my breathing. Apparently four days was all it took for someone to worm their way close to you. And he probably didn’t even realize how much I relied on him already.

I dragged myself up the stairs to my room, collapsing on my bed. I let a strangled scream out into my pillow, and the sound was lost somewhere in the immensity of this horrible house. I pulled my phone from where I had stashed it in my back pocket and chucked it at the wall, watching as the back plate popped of, and the green, wirey insides scattered around. I experienced a moment of regret, but then again, what did I need a phone for? It’s not like I had anyone to call or text anymore.

It was only three PM but the tears that were still dripping from my eyes had stuffed up my head and drained away my energy. My head fell back onto my pillow, and I let my eyes fall shut into a heavy black sleep.

I woke up at nine, still tired. My limbs were heavy and hard to control, my eyes bleary and sticky feeling. My throat felt like sandpaper and I stumbled up to go to the bathroom connected to my room, not wanting to make a trip down to the kitchen. I made my way in a shaky line, trying to keep on my feet, and finally pushed to door open. I leaned heavily on the counter and dipped my head under the faucet that was now spitting out cool streams of water. I gulped some down, and then let my head sit there, the cold bite of the water awakening some of my senses. I pulled away, looking into the mirror at the monster that stared back. My eyeliner had run everywhere, which just proved that an emo girl needed to wear waterproof makeup. Sleeping had only smudged the ruined makeup everywhere, and practically my whole face was coated in it, just adding to the black of my bruise. I washed it all away, too tired to bother to be careful about it.

Fierce scrubbing under my eyes yielded nothing, and I realized that it wasn’t  my eyeliner, but shadows, which made me laugh.

“You have issues,” I spoke to my reflection.