Therapy: Tate Langdon

Chapter 5

I wait on the side of the school away from the front doors- I wouldn't want anyone to catch me trying to leave.

"Hey! Why aren't you in class?" A voice startles me.

Turns out it doesn't matter where in the school you are, teachers are everywhere.

I try to keep a straight face and think of a good excuse.

"I'm on my spare," I say. I've never had the teacher I was talking to, so I doubt she'd know my schedule.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize that. I'll leave you be," she says.

I smile at him to make it look like I'm actually telling the truth to her.

She walks back into the school.

I take out my lighter and a cigarette and inhale the brisk smoke fuming into my lungs.

I exhale deeply, watching the smoke fade into the cold winter's air.

Suddenly, two guys who look to be a few years older than me walk in my direction.

My gut tells me that something isn't right, but I ignore it thinking that they were just normal boys, and it's most likely just because of my anxiety disorder.

They start to come closer to me, making me very nervous. They are now at the point where we are less than a foot apart.

"Well what do we have here?" one of them says. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard, sending chills down my spine.

"I think we've found a new pet huh?" the other boy says. My whole body shakes as my stomach is full of anxiety.

"What's your name baby?"

"K-kel-sey. P-please leave me alone," I say, still shaking.

"Sorry, no can do," he says, his face just inches away from mine.

He puts a hand on my thigh, and another around my waist. I scream in terror.

"Shut her up will you?" he says to the other boy.

I feel a sweaty palm cover my mouth as I try to break free from his grip. I keep on screaming.

"Shut your trap bitch, it's not like anyone's going to come and save you," he says. I feel a hand go to the zipper of my jeans. If I don't get away, he is going to rape me.

I try to get out of his grasp, but he is too strong. His hands run lower and lower down my body. I am petrified.

Just when he is about to fully remove my pants, I hear two smacks and both of the males heads are forced onto the cement. I look up and see my hero.

Tate.

"Leave her alone you filthy pieces of shit!" he says.

By now, my face is covered with tears and I'm crying.

"Are you okay? What did they do to you?" he asks.

"Can we just talk about it in the car?" I ask.

"Sure," he says as he picks me up, bridal style.

I look back at the bloody faces of my attackers. I'm glad they can't get at me anymore, but I'm also scared that Tate will get in trouble. He shouldn't though, he was just defending me.

We reach Tate's black Pontiac and he lets me out of his arms to get in my car. I look at myself in the rearview mirror and notice a bleeding cut on my forehead, and multiple marks that will most definitely turn into bruises later. I'm a fucking mess.