Secret Torture (Student/Teacher) - COMPLETED

Chapter Thirty Seven: The Eye of the Storm

Almost two weeks later, James returned. 

He never called. Not once. After that one, brief, midnight phone call, I didn't get so much as a text message from him. Nothing - until he reappeared one day in school. 

I almost didn't recognize him. His hair was longer. His stubble had grown in thicker than ever. He even looked thinner. 

I knew he saw me too. I wondered if I looked any different.

I didn't expect him to react. He had successfully ignored me for a grand total of two weeks - what should change now? But, as I passed by him, he took a hold of my arm, stopping me in the middle of the corridor, pulling me close. His bloodshot eyes held my gaze. I couldn't look away, even if I wanted to - and I did want to. We were surrounded by people. This was reckless.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, so only I could hear. "Can we talk later? After school?"

I nodded my head. 

"I'll give you a ride home. After we've finished work on the mural, just wait behind for a little while, and I'll take you home. Okay? How does that sound?"

Again, I nodded my head. "Yeah. Sure."

Then my arm was free once more, and he was gone.

*

After school, Georgia and I resumed our normal routine of working on the mural after school, along with a select number of other art students. 

James ignored me once more - which was a good thing. Only, he seemed to look worse than ever - like he was constantly on edge. He seemed agitated. He had that look in his eyes - the dark, burning vacancy I had seen too many times. Admittedly, it frightened me a little.

"Um, sir?" I heard a student call. Turning around, I saw a boy, Ian, frantically trying to mop up a huge spill of bright red paint from the ground. We had put down sheets all across the ground immediately beneath the wall in order to catch any fallen paint - but Ian seemed to have succeeded in spilling a full can of paint onto the bare pavement. 

Immediately, my eyes went to James. 

He didn't look happy.

"How the fuck did this happen?" he bellowed, marching over to where Ian stood.

Everyone spun around, staring at Mr. Halter, and at each other, unable to believe the words that had just left his mouth. I willed them all to look away - for it to end… But I knew it had only begun.

"I - Well - the lid mustn't have been put back on properly - I lifted it by the handle and it just fell. It was an accident, sir," Ian stuttered.

James eyed the damage. It was pretty bad. The paint was acrylic. It wasn't going to come off easily. To make matters worse, it was bright red - not exactly subtle. It looked almost like a huge bloodstain. 

"Good job," James said, his voice seething with venomous sarcasm. "Really, I mean it. Job well done. Here's a hint, Ian - the wall is over there. Next time, try aim for that. Okay?"

Ian looked around, clearly just as confused as the rest of the class was. They had never seen him like this. 

"Um, okay," he said. 

"Are you not even going to apologize?" James hissed. "Are you really just going to stand there, in the mess you made - which I will get blamed for, by the way - and not even APOLOGIZE?"

"Sorry," Ian mumbled, eyes staring down at the ground.

"LOOK AT ME AND APOLOGIZE LIKE YOU MEAN IT!" James screamed. He had that look in his eyes, the one I knew so well, like he was going to-