5iV3 - The Wanted Fanfiction

Chapter 1.

My heavy, tired body lifted me through the mass, ancient wooden doors that would lead me to the life I was now stuck in for another three years at the least.

School, a dreaded cage of education and rituals, so immaculate and forgoing that we all at some point have a need to escape. It’s infrastructure of timed, coordinated lessons, periods of break but not up to the adult themselves and the number of months we are quarantined with a group of spectators who we have no relationship with.

I used to look down upon those who left school as soon as they could, didn’t venture to the higher education that seemed to taunt us. But now, now I look at them in jealousy, wonder at how they can be so driven to find a job that does not need a degree and to live life without as much change as one person could handle. I wish I was them.

The white filled envelope that lay in my hand bristled in the breeze, the contents of it, instructing me of my journey around these various buildings on a daily basis. The flicker of my name, printed in a perfect black straight line ‘Miss Venus Bacon’ across the left side of the letter.

My parents were a bit eccentric, I guess. Venus wasn’t a normal name in today’s society but made me stand out from the rest instead. Maybe that’s what they wanted to achieve with such a name and to then put it with my surname; they could be classed as a little bit more than.

I used to ask them every so often for the reason for such an exuberant one but they always made up a different excuse each and every time. They had me around the 80’s so I came to the conclusion that it was a simply an overly use of drugs that caused their brains to be a little shady in that period of time. None the less, I was now stuck with this name for life and so I had to deal with the stares that would come from it when called out in class and such.

The hustle and bustle of the hallways always seemed to scare me but I carried on ahead, moving in and out of the other students looking for their classrooms on the very first day. My first psychology class was to be at the end of the corridor as told by the sheet in my hand. Knowing me I came in via the wrong entrance and would spend the remainder of the day trying to work out where I had ended up.

Today however seemed to be a good day and as I had hoped, the class I had intended for was straight in front of me. My nerves started to take through my body, what if they didn’t like me? What if they laughed at me for my name? I wasn’t a psychic so I couldn’t come to the conclusion at an instant but if I wanted to become a psychologist then I sure as hell needed to walk in that classroom with confidence and pride.

The class only seemed to keep a few students at the moment and none of them were interested in my entrance as they were more focused in finding their material as a stern teacher looked on. I peered across the various free seats and chose my best bet was to sit in the middle as it was the only area that wouldn’t put me in a category.

The front, for the overly excited and nerdy geeks and the back, for the quiet rebels who just wanted to get through these years as quickly as possible with doing as little a work as needed. The middle was sort of a random ground, you couldn’t be classed as anything and that’s how I wanted to keep this year, a nomad of sorts.

I sat myself down on the cold scuffed chair, placing my bag to the side of me and flicking it open to reveal my notepad and pack of pens. They only covered so much of the desk and I realised how large this room actually was compared to me, reminding me of what a tiny object I was in a master plan of the world.

The quiet screeching sound of a piece of chalk writing on a blackboard awoke me from my daydream of staring at the plain walls to the Professor who stood at the front of the class. As usual my unawareness to the world had caused me to not notice the room fill up and now every seat around me consumed with a person, feeling the claustrophobia building up inside me.

“My name’s Professor McGuiness or Jay as short, as I’d be preferred to be known by,” Bellowed a voice across the room and with force, bounced off the walls into every ear of an intelligent student, knocking them into a stance of awareness.

The professor was certainly not a short man; he was well over 6ft and was considerably young for a man to take this venture of a career. His broad shoulders and muscles showed he took great care in keeping fit and his curly brown hair and blue eyes would easily enchant any woman in the room. He was of a gorgeous stature and one that would be more suited to a modelling career but I was not one to argue with a piece of eye candy to keep me entertained over the coming months.

His stern, harsh face suddenly dropped changing his frown into one of an easy smile before it opened up and a light laugh echoed across the room.

“Okay, seriousness aside, I want you all to call me Jay. You should have seen your guys faces,” He cracked up again, a harmonious form of a laugh reaching out as the rest of the class joined either seeing the hilarity of the situation or scared to not disappoint.

“Right, let’s get to work,” Jay pronounced winking, leaving his position of leaning against his desk to behind it, scratching out on the already chalky blackboard today’s assignment.

The weird thing was it seemed like he was directly winking at me.