Nineteen-year-old Namora Mursings has fallen in love with her married teacher, Mr. Vincent Williams. Knowing the consequences of her infatuation, she still decides to pursue him.
Vincent takes her for a troubled girl still on an identity quest and w...
HEAVILY UNEDITED. // you guys are, perhaps, gonna like this chapter!
FEEL AND ACCEPT ME.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I stand, leaning against the pillar, watching people rush towards their cars as the drizzle gets harsher and harsher, to the point that it turns into a storm.
I have mixed feelings about what I'd seen earlier. Torn. But still hopeful. At least, that's what I tell myself. I'm in denial.
He wouldn't.
Would he?
Savannah told me he might have. But I don't want to believe her, not yet. I need answers, and I know I will find them from Mr. Williams.
I don't care if I seem too nosy, I'm not going to sit here while he romances another woman under my nose.
His wife deserves better.
I flinch, as if I'd just slapped myself.
I'm such a hypocrite.
Why am I even doing this?
Looking down at my watch, a frown pulls at my face. I understand we're supposed to go when there's no one around, but the last car just left. And he still isn't here.
His tardiness doesn't help the guilt, which seems to tug at every string of my heart. I find myself descending the steps, moving farther away from the entrance.
Maybe it would be better if I just go... He already has someone else to entertain him anyway.
He doesn't need me.
I'm just a burden.
Fúck.
My heart seems like it's on fire in my chest, and I'm suffocating from the rain pelting above me.
And as the droplets begin to gently lap at my face, I take another step down, embracing the coolness that beckons me.
It seems to quench the fire in my heart, leaving me a quivering mess as the water drenches my clothes, dampening me to the core.
Extinguishing the fire inside me.
I look up into the eye of the storm, reaching a hand up to feel the harshness of the pelting rain. It feels nice. Slithering through my fingers, coming to land on my face, free from my locks of hair which have stuck to my back in the aftermath.
I'm emotionally numb.
"Na- what on earth are you doing?" I hear Mr. Williams yell from behind me, but I don't turn around.
I can't.
That's when I hear violent steps descending the steps, and before I know it, big hands are clutching at my skinny arms, and I'm turned around to face a very furious, very red-faced Mr. Williams.
