Wants, Tightrope, Spilt Milk

Part Two #10: Casper meets Anna in the park

When he saw her sitting alone he was overcome with a mix of conflicting instincts. She sat on the far right of a bench, seemingly shoved into a corner even though it was otherwise unoccupied. Casper saw this sorrowful sight from a distance that allowed him to analyse his potential victim as he approached. He only knew Anna as he knew most of his students: snapshots of personality combining with their work to produce a fairly thin stereotype of them as a person. As a result he believed Anna to be shy and the possible victim of bullying and isolation. From what he could remember of her from class and around school, this assessment seemed to be fairly well grounded. She never really sat or spoke to anyone as far as he had seen and she seemed to constantly possess a down-beaten, mournful air, her face portraying a look as if at any moment she would receive either scorn or physical abuse.

He had never heard anything exact about such assumptions, but then as a male teacher at an all-girls school, Casper was well aware that a lot escaped his attention. If, however, all of his guesswork was in fact accurate and Anna was suffering at the hands of her peers, then he couldn’t help but think how easily she would play into his hands. If he were to offer her support and even romance then, judging by the amateur psychology he had studied at University, he may well be able to convince her that he is the only one who really understands her, who sees her for who she is rather than what she appears or the person others think she is. Such hopes of course rested on the belief that she would be a tormented victim, perhaps so deprived of contact that he could draw her to his new found path, manipulating her into being his first convert.

Such thoughts, bathed in the illusion and fantasy of the often thought but not yet tried, stirred in Casper a contradictory feeling that seeing her sitting so solitary upon the bench evoked. Using his position to abuse her? A girl whom he knew (or at the least suspected) needed someone to take notice of her as a person rather than as a victim or target? He couldn’t quell such an observation and its presence at the back of his mind acted as a strong reminder that he still had plenty of work to do before he could be free of the guilt and morals he wanted so desperately to dispose of. Filled with such a paradox he approached Anna and let his desires and determination override his waning morals.

“Anna, you’re here?” he said as if in surprise, coming from behind to ensure he caught her off guard.

Anna jumped slightly and turned toward him, her eyes following him as he sat beside her with a momentary lack of recognition that then vanished in the wake of reddening cheeks and obvious embarrassment. Casper noted all of this with building enthusiasm. He had been careful to sit as close to her as he could without being too obvious. His aftershave, carefully picked out and applied, flowed about them both. He had worn one of his favourite shirts in order to further his allure and all these factors combined to fill him with confidence.

“Mr Carter,” Anna said clumsily, perhaps surprised that he had come at all.

It was then that he saw the tears that still lingered in her eyes and the inescapable forlorn that lay upon her. He was filled with his usual reaction when faced with someone emotional, a deep disdain and sudden desire to leave them in their misery. Casper was not one to indulge in public displays of emotion, nor one to cry, and so seeing such actions in others only encouraged him to pull away lest he somehow be tainted by their emotions.  He fought through this reaction, realising that in this instance tears were yet another blessing as they revealed the vulnerability of his victim.

“Are you ok?” he asked, almost outside himself as a genuine compassion arose from the depths of his morals.

Anna felt an overwhelming urge just to let everything inside her pour forth in answer to those three simple words, words that she had yearned to hear from anyone but that, coming as they did from him, took on a whole new meaning even more entrenched in fantasy. Despite this however she felt self-hate bubble up and swallow any illusion that Casper might actually be concerned.