The Educator (dark h.s)

Chapter 11 - the mysterious date

-people always thrive for adrenaline

It had been two weeks since the last dreadful game and the episode with my dad. Nothing really happened since then, just tedious time when you feel like you go nowhere, you just wait for the next occurrence to blow right in your face and cut deeper into your your wounds.

Life seemed as worthless as ever at that moment, it was an utter plague. The frustrating feeling of depression was streaming through my veins along with my blood as the days were passing by.

My father used to have clinical depression and trust me, he wasn't just fed up or unhappy for a few days, he used to be persistently sad for months back in prison. I despised remembering but he even attempted suicide a couple of times. How did I know? The warden used to inform me about his state every week even though he wouldn't let me pay him a visit. Before mum died she used to have long tedious phone calls with him, both of them crying their hearts out and sharing the awful boredom they had been through. You'd usually find her sitting near the aisle with her phone pressed to her ear tightly until her knuckles turned white, talking to her loved one quietly yet morbidly. It was heartbreaking- the way she tried to cheer him up.

Anyway, back to topic. People with a family history of depression are most likely to experience it themselves. That was what I feared most. Was that illness going to strike me as well? I indeed ranged from lasting feelings of sadness and hopelessness to losing interest in life and yeah I felt tearful, and to top it all, I also felt anxious.

On the other hand- that wasn't surprising, taking into account the bloody situation I found myself in. At least Gemma and I had been texting each other every day. She had even slept over once when my dad was out.

He'd been going out a lot lately, drinking his arse off. However, even when he was intoxicated like hell he wouldn't say a word to me. I didn't know whether him being distanced was a good or a bad thing. I wasn't used to my dad being scared, let alone horrified of what might happen to him. He'd ever so slightly walk up and throw a few words at me then look around as if someone was hot on his heels whatsoever. The weirdest thing was when he quaked, I was usually the one shaking.

And sixth form, it hadn't changed much. People kept on with their repulsive stars and I just took my distance as usual. Samantha started dating a rather cute guy named Eric. I couldn't be happier for her though, she had been giving me much less attention which wasn't a major help.

Benjamin and I went on a double date with the fresh couple though things didn't end up well, actually it was quite a disaster. Benjamin kind of wrestled him to the ground for 'disrespecting his presence' which I found extremely ludicrous.

Sam found it less funny when the poor guy had got a few bruises on his tanned skin.

I was currently sitting in my room, my chicken of a father downstairs. It was around 5pm though, I didn't feel like staying in today like I did most of my life.

Ennui took over my mind as I reached for the gruesome piece of paper on my desk and observed it with my eyes. That bloody little piece of paper had been occupying my mind a lot lately. I had a gut feeling it might help me solve the mystery of The Educator. I inverted the paper in my palm so it was laying on its back, where couple of days ago I found my new clue, it read;

"Warning: you mustn't ring the number below"

The number was written with a blue pen despite the blood which led me to the conclusion that the man must've wanted me to be able to read the numbers clearly. Why would he leave the number if I weren't supposed to read it? It seemed like a load of cobblers at the moment, it didn't make sense.

'He could be testing you' my subconscious whispered in a faint tone.

Perhaps but did it mean I had to ring the number or listen and stay clung to the instructions on the paper? What a mess. On one hand, I was determined to find clues and spot out the blooming murderer as soon as possible though, on the other hand, I was perfectly aware of how hazardous that actually was and could even have further consequences for my loved ones.

Before my mind was able to comprehend my phone had been grabbed out of the drawer and held tightly in my slightly clammy palms. My eyelids shut which I tended to do when trying to concentrate really hard on something. Just a little call wouldn't kill anybody, would it? I'd just hang up if some untrustworthy person answered, that shouldn't have been such a big of a deal. Just one call.

I peeked at the paper and my mind started processing the small numbers written below then typing it shakily onto the glass screen, making small clicks whenever my finger tapped it.

My hand trembled lightly as I pressed call, raising the small object to my ear slowly.

"Good afternoon, thank you for calling Red Lion pub. May I help you?" A girlish voice was heard through the line.

Red Lion as the pub downtown? What did it have to do with the forbidden number? Nothing made sense, where's your logic Mr. Educator?

"Umm someone gave me your number and I'm not sure w--"

"Let's see.. What's your name, love?" She cut me off and tiny typing noises of what I assumed to be a keyboard were heard, signalling she was using a computer.

"It's Gwen.. Gwen Wilson." I spoke dryly, picking on my nails.

"Uh of course! Girl.. I'm afraid you've got a massive lover there! He's booked a place like two weeks ago! It's on this Sunday actually..." She rattled on in enthusiasm. Had she known what was truly going on she wouldn't have been so excited about it.

"Have you got any idea of how the person looks like or even his first name?" I urged, no excitement laced in my voice.

"Nope sorry, I suppose he'd like to keep it a mystery 'til you find out on Sunday?" Bloody hell it was no romance couldn't she just get straight to the point? I nearly broke into laughter just thinking of us in a relationship, I knew absolutely nothing about that man except the fact that he had killed my dear mother.

Douchebag

"Hold up, can I ask you one more question?" I inquired, my voice primped with graveness.

"Sure."

I inhaled deeply as I was mentally praying for her not to tell me what she was no doubt going to.

"What was his voice like?"

The line went dead for a while and I found myself checking if she had hung up, she hadn't.

"Um... it was kind of raspy and demanding if my memory isn't misleading me. Maybe y--"

The phone slipped out of my shaking grip abruptly, causing a loud explosion to echo throughout the messy room but I didn't pay much attention to my likely broken mobile phone. My congealed body didn't seem to flinch or even react to anything.

As sure as the sun was rising in the east I wasn't going to make an appearance at that pub, especially on Sunday.

Or maybe I was?

A/N

Hello y/n

I want to play a game.

The rules of the game are simple. The consequences for breaking them are great: death. Your will is being tested, the will to make someone chuffed to bits. Are you capable of that? Can you follow the rules and grant someone the gift of happiness?

The device you're wearing is connected to both your heart and nose, by the time that tape is finished you're going to have one minute to stop the device from tiring your nostrils open by voting, commenting and twitting about this fanfic.

Now let the game begin, make your choice. ;)

Love love love xx