Confessions of the Popular Girl

Chapter Four

Chapter 4 Confessions of the Popular Girl

Twisting my ring around my spider monkey like finger thinking of what to do with this piece of paper, there was a little red spot in the crescent where the ring would overlap. It looked like it was a weave, only in the shape of a diamond. Silver, where colors were easily spotted. Examining it, it couldn't be. It couldn't. Blood? No. How could I missed a spot? Great. Now I have the paper and my ring to worry about.

I would have said my heart pounded and I was about stop breathing at the wretched examination, but that was so cliche. I did panic a little, saying a small prayer it would disappear into thin air.

The teacher kept looking at me. As if I was that interesting. Smirking, he walked up the isle to his desk. I quickly rubbed the red spot, hoping it vanished.

My thumb covered the part of the ring where the shocking surprise present was. Taking a breath in, snapping my eyes shut, I removed my

thumb.

The sweat was on. It could've been marker or something, but I don't remember the last timed I colored. Or if I colored at all. It baffled me to even think that I'd <I> color <I/> .

Peeking through, looking down at the mystery, I paused, and didn't know what to do now. It had slightly faded. Wasn't as bad as before, but still recognizable.

Squirming in my skin, the memory of that night had fled into my thoughts again. Haunting, each detailed focused on slowly. Playing in slow mow. There was no time to have a normal life. All work, and no playful games. The closest I'd get to playing games, is seducing men, or perhaps <I> boys <I\> . I've never had an actual relationship. For some one to hold me in their arms through the endless and hopeless nights.

Fingers snapped in front of my face, focusing my eyes on them. They kept snapping, making a small, but irritating noise. It replayed and replayed. Blinking like it was my last breath, I wondered why someone snapped. Oh, I might've been zooming out.

My eyes wandering up, to where the hands were, I was annoyed. How dare someone interrupt my thoughts. And why would they do that?

It was the teacher. I'd like to think my eyes would burn a whole deep down into his soul. To disintegrate him. But he didn't flame up, shrivel up and die. It still stood there. Breathing. Killing me. Making me want to disintegrate. Because he still had a life.

" Would you pay attention you meddling beast?" he barked at me.

Meddling beat. Woah woah woah, how could he know I was a Scortcher? Or was it a lucky guess? Or just a figure of speech with no information inclined?

As of my staircase of questions could get any worse, then there were questions piling up about the paper. And the teacher. Why couldn't I just live a normal life? Why do I have this addiction of murdering?

Great, now questioning of my fate, was now piling up.

His eyes flared at me. His eyes turned orange, red, and yellow. The colors swarmed together in unity. I looked around to see of anyone else was seeing what had just happened. Everyone stared down at their paper. Writing. That, or people were staring at the clock, waiting for the clock to strike to the end of class.

Giving me a flashing smile, my eyes deceived me. Fangs had been grown out, but he wasn't a vampire. He couldn't be. As if murdering someone isn't nightmare-ish enough, I now had to deal with him. A vampire. I believe, I wasn't sure. Some non mortals had fangs, but we're completely different from a vampire. Plus a vampire teacher is so cliche. To often in movies and books. It would be funny, but cliche to actually happen in life.

So many things on my mind...I could barely look at anything without my fixation turning blurry. The words on the page in front of me, still, the words smashed and collided together. Letters and numbers swapped places with others.

You will die.

The words haunting my mind.

Probably never leaving my thoughts.

Never going astray.

The only thing I could read.

Those three words.

The first line of the page.

The title.

This wasn't about him knowing I was a Scortcher, or me getting horrible grades.

This was life and death.

Not life OR death.

Life AND death.

It was a challenge.

A quest I didn't have a say in.

This is war.

Between my first two teachers.

Great.