"Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. Especially when you are near me as you are now. It feels as though I had a string tied here under my left rib where my heart is, tightly knotted to you in a similar fashion. And when you go, I am af...
"Do I love you? My god, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches" - William Goldman
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• e l l i s o n •
Do you know the feeling when silence is the loudest noise in the room?
When the empty... emptiness of sound seems to drive you insane by how overpowering it is? All you wish to do is reach for that audio dial on the blaring speaker and turn it down to zero; to relieve the pressure on your inner ear drum, and allow for chaos to resume.
My right hand twitched to reach for that dial as seconds upon seconds stretched for hours as Ellington's hands were still firmly planted on his wooden desk. The echoed sound of skin on wood still ringing in my ears. If there was one word to describe the look on my professors face, it would be mind-numbing. Is that two words? Huh, well ignore it then.
The little hairs of his eyebrows turn inward, accentuating the downward curve of his lips as a scowl masks his entire face. It's scary as all fuck. Even Dracula would cower in fear. His breaths come out shallow and rough; labored to be precise.
I glance around the classroom ever so slightly to see the gaped mouths of my fellow classmates. Some are disgusted at my little show -- the females mainly. But most are just as shocked as well... myself.
I push away from my chair and desk and rise to my full height. The metallic scraping of my chair the only sound that is heard echoing off the ancient walls. I wince slightly as the scrape on my knee rubs against my knee high socks. I push the discomfort aside as I bravely glance back at Ellington. Gone is the scowl. Gone is the hardness behind his pupil. Gone is the monster. Eli is back. His eyebrows are relaxed, his jaw is no longer ticking to the tempo of my beating heart, and those drool worthy hands of his are now relaxed against the wood. He seems fixated on something...
I follow his line of vision and am confused when I see my own bloodied kneecap.
Curiouser. Curiouser.
"Ellison," he starts, sounding out of breath. He heaves a huge sigh, and shakes his head slightly.
"Students, please take out a pen and paper and write a one page analysis of the meteor and how it affects Hester, Dimmesdale, and Pearl from The Scarlet Letter. I want it on my desk by the time the bell rings. You may begin."
The sudden change of topic by Fitz catches me off guard. I am still standing as the students around me filter around themselves for the materials that are required of them. Ellington just stands there, same as myself. He wont meet my eyes; as a matter of fact, his entire body language is near impossible to read. Why does he look upset?
