An Academic Interest (a Teacher/Student romance)

Chapter 4

Pain shot through her head like lightning, leaving behind it's sparks to shine behind her sore eyelids. A musty smell filled her nostrils, she was definitely in a basement, but with the must came the scents of new books and fresh paint. Her head had begun to throb but she could still move, she turned her head slightly and couldn't help wincing a little. Hoisting herself up on her shaking elbow, she opened my eyes and saw the back of a man, tall and lean with sandy blonde hair. As his head turned she remembered everything. 

Emilia’s scream caught in her throat as he took a step towards her. Scrambling backwards she found the edge of the bed and rolled off, sending the pain spiking. In seconds he had vaulted over the bed as well and was kneeling beside her. she struggled to push past him, but his arms, though not heavily muscled, were strong and wrapped  around her. She shook and kicked at him but his grip never faltered. She bit and clawed at his arms but they tightened like iron bars, locking her to him.

Then they were too tight, crushing her. 

"Please," she gasped. 

The iron bars loosened and she broke towards the door. Pulling and twisting at the knob she realized it was locked. She beat the door, screaming, someone has to hear me, they have to. 

"No one can hear you, my sweet," he was standing, looking at her. The expression on his face was part hurt and part… amused. "I made sure of it, this basement could very well be a bomb shelter."

He was right, there were no windows, just the one door and the archway leading to a small bathroom. Upon closer inspection she saw the door had a series of locks running up it, some needing inside keys, some outside. 

"Please sweetheart, sit down," he was closer now, gesturing to a set of chairs beside the bed. He grinned. "Humour me."

She moved like a caged animal, edging along the wall towards the closest chair then crawling in and wrapping her shaking arms around her knees. He slid effortlessly into the chair across from her, his eyes never leaving her own. He settled himself, taking his time. Whenever he moved forwards she flinched, this seemed to entice him, his eyes brightened and for a split second his tongue darted across his teeth.

"I've made everything perfect for you, Emilia," he nervously whispered. "I bought the books I've seen you reading, the candles smell like your perfume and," he stood jerkily. " And I painted the walls in the colour of that shirt you always wear. You know the one, the shimmery silver one with the little white flowers printed all over it. The one that makes your eyes," his hand found the side of her face and brushed away a tear that she didn't know had gathered there.

"That makes your eyes so… beautiful," his hand ran down through her hair before he pulled away.

"Mr. Gleeson-" she began.

"Jaime,"

"Of course," she mumbled. "Jaime. I don't know why I'm here, and I really do appreciate the effort you've made to make the room so… personal but, I really…"

"Really what, ma chere?"

Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks, dripping off her chin. "I really, just want to go home."

"Oh," a storm passed over his face as he stood," I see, but there's no need for tears sweetheart. This is your home now."

He turned to the door and began unlocking it, when the last lock was opened she pounced. Her hand was between the door and the frame when she felt five fingernails cutting into the back of her neck like little razorblades. His grip tightened as she was thrown back onto the bed, landing among sheets and blankets in varying shades of lilac, white and grey.

The last sound she heard was the click of a lock on the other side of the door, sealing her fate.