Alfred Pennyworth: Alone

Alfred Pennyworth: Alone

Imagine your dad(Bruce Wayne) is an absolute ass, and Alfred ends up becoming your emotional support after you go through a terrible event:

- Lil warning: sexual battery, battery, kidnapping, hints alluding to rape, Bruce is an asshole, depression, thoughts of self harm -

Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne carries a lot of weight, you are expected to be great at everything, get amazing grades, have good friends, be a good person, etc, but the truth is that you can't always be that person.

Sure, I get good grades most of the time, but they never seem to be enough for dad. My friends are great and supportive, they know all about my feelings, and they never use me because of my last name, but that doesn't mean my father approves of them. And last but not least, I am who I am, I can't be the socialite and extrovert my father wants me to be, I can't dress the way he wants me to, and I can't act the way he wants me to.

This isn't done out of rebellion, I really want to be the daughter my dad wants, I want him to be proud of me, but I just feel like a hollow shell whenever I try.

———————

Today I went to hangout with some people, I decided to try and be friends with people my father has openly approved of, but everything just feels so shallow.

They all dressed fancy, most of them wearing expensive brands. I even dressed like them in an attempt to fit in, but I felt like such a fake. Remembering my fathers look of approval when he saw me and when I told him about my plans makes me push away my discomfort, just wanting to get through the day.

We had gone out to eat after school, and now were just messing around in a park. It was getting late, and I really wanted to head home, but I don't even know where I am anymore.

I'm in a group of about 5 people, 3 of them being guys and the other 2 are girls. The guys and girls are dating, so just me and this other guy are basically third wheeling. The couples want to go to the movies, but I know they are just going to be making out, so I decline, stating I'll just wait in the park for their movie to end; the other guy also declines, stating he'll also wait.

The guy - I think his name is Chase - and I went and sat on a bench near the outskirts of the park. It was really getting dark now, and I desperately wanted to go home and curl up in my bed and forget about this day, but Chase simply will not stop talking. He's actually not that annoying, and he's not half bad to look at with his brown hair swept to the side, his green eyes looking at me intently.

I stand up and Chase stops talking, his expression almost looking irritated that I interrupted.

"I think I'll be heading home now." For a moment I glimpsed anger flashing through his eyes, but it was gone just as immediately, instead being replaced by an extravagant smile.

"Sure, I'll walk you to your bus stop." I almost feel like blushing, but he probably only offered because I'm a young girl alone in Gotham at night. I smile instead, and say 'thank you' before beginning my walk to the bus stop. It's not too far, only about a half mile walk, but as we pass an alley, Chase motions for me to follow him though it, stating it was a shortcut.

I don't feel comfortable, I don't like alleys in the first place, adding in the fact that it's night makes it even worse. I go to tell Chase no, but looking into the alley I realize I can't see him anymore. Fear surges within me, is he okay? Where did he go? I hesitantly step into the alley when I hear him urgently shouting my name.

I run to his voice, hoping to see that he's okay, but as I turn into a corner within the alley I'm quickly shoved into the rough brick wall. My head is aching in pain, as well as my back. I try to shove the person away, but they secure my hands with theirs, their chest grazing against mine. I don't know what's happening, I can't tell who this is because it's so dark.

I can feel the tears running down my cheeks as one of their hands gropingly wanders over my body.

"Oh, don't tell me you're crying." That mocking voice stabs me, betrayal radiating through my bones. That voice belongs to Chase, I feel like fighting and dying at the same time.

My free hand acts without thought, a loud smack ringing through the tense silence. He seems stunned, but he soon reacts in violence as well, punching my lower abdomen, my body hunching over. He gives me no time to suffer, as he pulls my body back up, holding my face up with one hand and delivering a forceful punch with the other.

I can't remember much after that other than falling to the ground, the last thing I saw was him walking towards me with a sickening grin.

———————

Pain radiates through my body, everything ached, but my pelvis and hips felt like they were  burning. My shoulder stings, and my face felt like I had been beat; my eyes aren't even open, yet I already want to go back to sleep.

It's only when the memories of last night resurface that I jump awake, my body feels like its being torn in half, but I ignore it, instead hastily surveying my surroundings. It's still dark, though how late, I do not know.

It takes me a few more moments to realize that my clothes are strewn across the floor, it's at this moment when the sickening feeling strongly radiating through both my body and mind finally makes sense. The intense need to vomit sweeping over me.

My eyes flood with tears as I hastily put my clothes on, it hurts to move but I really need to get home. I walk to the bus stop, paranoia running rampant within me, I find myself flinching at anything and everything.

I look at the clock in the bus and realize it's 11pm, I was supposed to be home by 8pm at the latest. I look at myself through my phone camera, attempting to fix my hair and clothes so that my father doesn't realize what happened to me; knowing him he would probably just be angry with me.

I shakily exit the bus, just walking hurts so much, but I put on a neutral expression, entering my home slowly. The lights are off, maybe he went to sleep early for once?

Those thoughts of hope are sharply stripped away when the cold light filters through the room.

"Where have you been, young lady?" I lower my head subconsciously, knowing I'm in trouble. I keep myself facing the door, I don't need him seeing my tear-streaked face, he'll probably just shout at me.

"I was just hanging out with my friends." I try to make it sound like I did nothing wrong, but I know it's just making him angrier.

"You were supposed to be home by 8pm, mind telling me what you were doing till 11 at night." His tone is becoming sharper and more demanding, this tone always leads to him yelling at me. That's honestly the last thing I need him to do, but what am I going to say, 'Hey dad, will you please not yell at me?' Yah, he'll probably scream if I say that.

I maintain my silence, hoping he'll just send me to my room.

"I asked you a question." I stay silent, praying that he'll just drop the conversation.

"LOOK AT ME!" His tone is deep with anger, his shout reverberating through the halls. He slammed his hand against the door, right near my head. I jump in surprise, but refuse to look at him out of both fear and self-preservation.

I can feel his glare deepen as he backs away from me, his sigh of frustration letting me know his shouting is done.

"Go to your room, you're grounded for two months." I don't argue, I don't fight, I simply nod my head and shuffle away, trying to hide my limp as I head to my room.

It's only after sitting on my bed for a few minutes that I finally let silent tears fall. Everything I do is wrong, and the one thing I do that makes him happy ended up being the worst decision of my life.

Maybe I should just stop trying.

———————

It's around 4 in the morning, I've been trying to go to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I think of when he... when he... oh never mind. The memories are fresh and refusing to yield, so I've taken to pacing around my room, just walking back and forth and back and forth, sometimes accidentally running into my bookshelves.

Normally on a night like this I would be tucked away reading my favorite book, but everything I do right now just feels so out of place.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even realize that Alfred had knocked on my door and opened it when I didn't respond. I only noticed when his hand lightly touched my shoulder, which caused a massive reaction.

I almost screamed, but it came out more as a fearful whimper; my entire body jumping away, my feet taking a few steps back to gain distance. My eyes are wide and distraught, scared of who would be in my room, but I calm slightly when I realize it's only Alfred.

He looks surprised, well, that's putting it lightly. He looked more shocked at my reaction, almost looking suspiciously at me.

"Please forgive my intrusion Y/N, I simply wanted to check on you. You've been pacing for a while." His voice furthers my ease, but I also feel guilt tightening my chest. I forgot Alfred's room is below mine, I must've been walking loudly, and I guarantee that me running into a bookcase isn't quiet.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to awaken you." Alfred's always been like an uncle to me, he's helped raise me, and he's always supported me in being myself.

"Do you mind telling me about that bruise?" His question startles me, I wasn't expecting that question, mainly because I wasn't aware I had a bruise. My eyes widen, and I quickly rush away into my bathroom, turning on the lights and gazing in horror at the purple splotch that was darkly forming over my left cheekbone.

I can't handle it anymore, I lean back against the wall, covering my eyes with my hands as I cry. I slowly slide down to the floor, bending my legs up and hiding my face against them as I sob.

Alfred walks over to my clearly distraught form, kneeling down and observing me for a few seconds. It didn't take him long to put it together, the bruised face, the red marks on my wrists, my tangled hair, the fact that I had thrown away my clothes from this night and replaced them with clothes that drowned my figure.

He sighs in silent anger, not at me, but at the disgusting person that did this to me.

He slowly pulls me into his side, and I welcome his fatherly response, crying against him as he whispers to me everything will be alright.

———

I don't know how long we stayed like that until I fell asleep, awakening the next morning in bed to see a note from Alfred saying to come to the kitchen for some pain killers and an ice pack, and that we would be having a chat over breakfast.

I'm scared, scared that I'll have to relive the memories of last night, but I'm also thankful. Thankful that someone like Alfred cares about me like how my real father should.

Alec Hardy: A Messed Up Situation

Imagine your step-father abuses you, and you finally break; leading to an investigation and interview/questioning with a detective(Alec Hardy):

- Lil warning: mention of parent death, eludes to drugging, alludes to rape, pedophilia, rape, molestation, minor reader/underage reader, abuse, battery, alludes to non-con -

"Help! Someone! Please!!"

My voice strains against the hand, I've never been attacked, let alone raped before, and I certainly didn't think I ever would be. The only thing making a bad situation worse, is that fact that this is my step-father.

_______

My father was killed in a car crash when I was 12, my mother was all I had left, but it seems I wasn't enough.

The month after his funeral, she returned home, hanging on the arm of a 30 something year old man, his smile seeming to grow even wider when he spots me.

His name is Steven, and he looked to be 5"11, with dirty blond hair that was brushed to the side and light stubble on his jaw. He seemed friendly enough, and he was always playing games with me whenever he was over.

He came over often after that night, practically living at our house, so I got to know him fairly well. He always wanted to be near me, sitting next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

Something I always found odd was how it seemed he would lightly flirt with me whenever my mother was gone. He would do it quickly, so quick you would miss it if you blinked; but I ignored it because he made my mother happy.

After a year of them dating, he officially moved in, right in time to celebrate my 13th birthday. That night was great, I invited all my friends over to the beach, we spent most of it in the ocean, but also had a lot of fun chasing each other and building sand castles. When I got home that night, he helped my mother to bed, and I quickly disappeared into my bathroom.

Though I had a great time, I had been making an effort to avoid Steven. His flirting was getting heavier and making me uncomfortable, he always stares at me, and always wanted to be touching me, whether it be him holding my hand or grasping my arm.

That was the night he first kissed me, he had cornered me after my shower, and his facial expression looked restrained, almost as though he was holding back a wild beast. He made me feel disgusted with myself, why was he doing this? He said I had been teasing him ever since I met him, but this just makes me even more confused, how did I tease him?

_______

The following year after that was normal, he would still hold my hand or hold me in a lingering hug, but he never kissed me again apart from kissing my forehead. He started to feel more like a father, or maybe that is what I made myself believe.

He married my mother the day I turned 14, it was sort of a special wedding-birthday mix thing. It was a lot of fun, my friends and their families were invited to the wedding, and my mother looked the happiest I'd ever seen her. Her white dress was beautiful, but she said I stole the show with my light lavender dress. That whole day and night, I felt eyes lingering on me, but I pushed the thought away, instead choosing to enjoy the wedding.

When we returned home from the wedding, my mother was acting strangely, her words were slurring and her movements droopy, this level of exhaustion seemed abnormal.

Steven put her to bed as I headed to my room to do the same. I was about to begin undressing when I heard the door to my room creak open, I quickly turned around, spotting Steven entering my room. He seemed so awake, but his calm demeanor made everything feel eerie.

"Here, let me help you." I didn't even have time to stop him, he had already grabbed the zipper for my dress, pulling it down my back slowly, almost as if savoring the moment. My body reacted in paranoia, I don't know why he's in my room, shouldn't he be with mom?

"Y'know... I've been waiting all day to take this dress off." At that moment, my paranoia seemed immensely justified. I immediately stepped away from him, but he moved quicker than me; yanking my dress down, the wispy material softly pooled around my ankles. I go to guard my body, but he's already shoving me down onto my bed, roughly holding his hand over my mouth, all the while whispering what he's going to do, and how much he loves me.

___

That night, he took everything from me, not only my innocence, but also my will to care.  It hurt so much, I was pleading for him to stop half the time, before falling silent and closing my eyes, praying that this was all a nightmare. I could feel the tears streaming out of my eyes as he hovered over me, his panting and movements forcefully reminding me of my horrifying reality.

The next morning I limped into school after rushing away from Steven and my mother. I spent the whole day in silence, never raising my hand, refusing to talk when called on.

This behavior continued for the next week, going to school barely half-alive, and then going home and laying in bed; Steven coming in any time possible to satiate his hunger. I don't know how my mother never noticed, but I pray she wasn't turning a blind eye to my fucked up situation.

I began making myself throw up, I don't know why, but it was something to help distract me. Some of the teachers pulled me to the side, asking me why I didn't play with the other kids anymore. I always shrugged my shoulders, refusing to speak.

After a month of Steven's continuous abuse, I finally did something that put all the teachers on edge.

___

It was an unnaturally hot day, and I made the mistake of taking my jacket off during recess.

My arms had a few bruises along them, but the most worrisome things they saw were the bruises around my wrists, they had distinct marks where Steven's fingertips had dug into them too harshly.

A small group of school teachers and others approached me. Mr.Rivers, a kind younger man who had the role of vice principal, made the mistake of lightly grasping my shoulder to get my attention. I shuddered away from his touch, cries of fear escaping my mouth as I fell backwards and to the floor. They all seemed shocked by my reaction, Mr.Rivers tries to comfort me, but I curl into myself, pulling my knees up and hiding my face against them.

I know he is distressed by my reaction, possibly feeling guilty, thinking he made me do this, but I hope he knows that he isn't the one making me cry.

The female teachers immediately move forward, some of them shooing the men away, and another carefully hugging me. I wrap my arms around her as she embraces me, holding and comforting me the way I wish my mother would.

___

I spend the next 30 minutes in an empty classroom, the same female teacher and a counselor sitting with me. They kept trying to get me to talk, but I gave only sparse answers. From the looks on their faces, they already have assumptions as to what happened to me.

My mind keeps replaying everything Steven has done to me, all the nightmares that plague me with each second of sleep I managed to attain.

I'm dragged out of my conscious terror when I hear a commotion outside of the classroom, the counselor and teacher glance at each other before getting up to investigate, but the door opens before they reach it.

A man and woman walk into the classroom, taking a quick scan of the room with their eyes before settling on my huddled form.

The man has messy brown hair that falls lightly over his forehead and a thickish layer of stubble on his jaw, he has deep brown eyes and looks eternally tired. The woman has dark brown curly hair that is pulled up in the back, she looks a lot more approachable, and is wearing a comforting yet sad smile as she gazes at me.

The counselor goes to stop them when they try to approach me, but they seem to show some sort of badge. After whispering some words, the counselor begrudgingly motions for the teacher to follow her out of the classroom.

When the door closes, I finally realize I'm left alone with these two strangers, I'm about to freak out when the woman starts to speak.

"Hello deary, I'm Ellie, and this is my partner Alec. We work for the police and we were wondering if you can help us?" She kneels down onto the floor, her voice is soft and comforting, drawing me to want to open up. I glance at the man, Alec, and my eyes tear up in fear when they meet his gaze, I quickly look away and back to the woman, hesitantly nodding my head.

She smiles, patting the chair next to her, I carefully walk over and sit in the chair, Alec pulling up one next to Ellie yet refusing to sit, instead standing behind it. They don't talk for a couple seconds, almost as though thinking of what to say.

"Can you tell us your name?" Ellie delicately asks. I glance at her eyes, before stiffly nodding.

"...Y-Y/N." I was worried that they didn't hear my hoarse whisper, but the smile she gave alerted me that I was heard. She asked me a few more questions, how I'm feeling right now, what my favorite subject was, how my parents were doing, just simple questions to establish a dialogue.

I stuttered a lot when answering the last question, I don't know how they are doing, and I don't want them being called my parents, not with what he has done to me and how she ignores what he does to me.

After the last question, a few moments of silence swirls through the air. It almost stings when I breathe in, I want to cough and yell, anything but be stuck in my mind.

"How'd you get those marks on your wrists?" This is the first time I've heard Alec talk, his voice isn't harsh like I thought it'd be, he actually spoke quite gently. This is the second time I've made eye contact with him, but instead of fear, a feeling of warmth and comfort seems to flow soothingly through me. He doesn't scare me like Steven, he actually reminds me of a teddy bear, I don't know why he is making me feel safe.

I don't answer the question, shifting my gaze to the scuffed up floor of the classroom. I can tell that Alec and Ellie are sharing a knowing look.

"You said you have a step-father, right? Steven?" I visibly recoil at the name, pulling my arms over my chest, almost as though subconsciously trying to shield myself from him.

"Don't say his name." My voice is weaker, I haven't talked this much in a while, I practically became a mute ever since he first raped me.

"Y/N... Y/N!" Alec calls my name gently at first, but the second time was a little sterner, though I don't know if stern is the right word. It's the voice my dad would use when I would ignore my chores even after he reminded me. Or when he learned I was being bullied, but I refused to tell him the bully's name.

I look at Alec, sighing in contemplation as I gaze up at him.

"Did he do this to you? Did Steven hurt you?" His question makes my heart beat faster in trepidation over what I was going to say. Was I going to tell him the truth, or was I going to lie and be abused for the rest of my life until I can leave home?

Something came over me, maybe it was how I was starved of real fatherly affection, or maybe it was how I finally felt seen and understood that caused me to stand from my chair and rush over to Alec's standing form.

One second I was rigidly sitting in a cold chair, and the next I was wrapping my arms around a man that represented the father figure I so desperately needed to comfort me.

Alec seemed stunned, this was probably the last thing he expected to happen, but after realizing what was going on he delicately wrapped his arms around me, hugging me back. I can't hold it in anymore, I cry and sob against him as he comforts me, hugging me tightly to him as he calms me down.

"Steven, he... he... he rapes me."

Scar: What Did I Do?

Imagine being Scar's daughter, and Mufasa hates you:

— Lil warning: Mufasa is an ass, violence —

I was born several months before my cousin Simba, a small cub that most thought wouldn't survive; I never got to know my mother as she died during my birth. I apparently look just like her, my fur is a light grey, almost like the foggy mist that gathers in the morning before sunrise, and my eyes are a warm amber.

I am currently 5 months old, the lionesses and lions still towering over me. Luckily I have other abilities, such as how good of a hunter I've become, and the fact that I am one of the fastest runners pride.

———————

"DAD! DAD!" My roared pleadings seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

I' m currently being chased out of Pride Rock by my uncle, Mufasa. I can practically feel his anger, large paws pounding against the ground as growls continuously emit throughout the air.

(I'm not sure why, but he's hated me for as long as I can remember. He never lets me play with the other cubs, and he makes sure the lionesses ignore me. I'm not sure why he's so cruel to me, I don't think I've ever done anything to offend him.)

My body tiring quickly, I've been running for a while — and though I may be fast, I really need to work on my stamina.

I'm about to call for my father again when a sharp pain is felt in my right hind leg, I yelp loudly, tripping over my feet and tumbling to the ground. I curl into myself, afraid of what will happen to me. I suddenly hear a growl thundering around me, but this growl doesn't sound like my uncle.

I sense movement, two lions are fighting, snarls and swipes being exchanged. I slowly uncover my face, eyes cautiously opening. I immediately see Mufasa, his large stature stiff and puffed out, he still looks furious; the other lion being none other than my father. My father is smaller in size, but he is quick, dodging most of the attacks while landing a few of his own. Eventually they are circling each other, heads low and claws bared.

"Stand down brother." Mufasa slowly orders, but my father refuses to comply.

"Why, so that you can kill my daughter?" Father sneers, his eyes narrowing.

"What did she do this time? Run too fast? Ask another annoying question? Or did her presence simply offend you?" Each question was growled in a harsh, agitated tone, each word emphasized by a swipe taken at Mufasa. My father was extremely pissed, but who could blame him? This is probably the fourth time Mufasa has gotten angry with me, but it is the first that he has attacked me; every other time he just made me really scared or embarrassed.

After the barrage of attacks, both lions backed away slightly, heavy breathing and growls being the only thing heard as venomous glares were traded. Mufasa holds his head up, looking like he wants to retaliate, but decides to release a loud huff instead, turning to walk back to Pride Rock.

"Get control of your daughter or I will." He snarls slowly as he passes Scar, glaring at me when he stalks by. My form seems to only wilt further, fear of punishment from father now making me regret calling for him.

Scar turns away from Mufasa, diverting all attention to my wounded form. He walks over to me, making his way closer to check on my injuries, but quickly stops when he notices me flinch away from him. His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment until understanding occurred.

"Y/N, you have nothing to fear, I promise I will never hurt you, okay?" His normally cynical voice is nearly unrecognizable, tone gentle and nurturing as he gazes down at his wounded daughter. I glance at him in uncertainty for a moment before stumbling up from the ground and running over to him.

He carefully comforts me, his paw lightly resting on my back as I begin to cry against him. As he comforts me, he quickly assessed my leg, it looks like a superficial wound, his claws seemed to have slipped right off of it.

"I-I don't-t even know w-what I did-d wrong." I whimpered quietly, my cries having simmered down to just tears blurring my vision

Jack Celliers: Beautiful Eyes

Imagine your best friend/crush(Jack Celliers) discovers that you were a girl the whole time:

Jack Celliers, that's a name I haven't heard in quite a while. He was one of my closest friends, my best friend even, and he's the only one to ever figure out my secret.

The secret I try so hard to hide is that I am actually a girl, I just dress up and act like a boy so that I could go to the good schools, and eventually join the military. I don't know who my parents are since I've been on the streets my whole life; no one knew me before I put on my disguise, so it was the perfect idea, at least until I met Jack

I cut my hair short, but long enough that it will fringe over my forehead and in front of my eyes. I do this in fear that if I truly look someone in the eye, they may discover my horrid truth.

I have boyish features, a passably low pitch voice, wide shoulders, and a lean body, all of which aid me in keeping up appearances. I didn't have to wrap my chest when I was younger, but I started to when I reached my teenage years; this of course caused some problems, especially during physical education classes.

_______

The first time I met Jack was during my first day at school, no one knew me, and that was just how I liked it.

I had managed to get special entry into the school based on my high test scores, which are due to my self-education and extensive reading of all forms of literature. I hadn't been in a real school for years, and I was joining in at the age of 15; so I had grown into my more feminine features. Which seemed to solidify a permanent nervousness that emanated continuously throughout my bones.

Before I began my walk to school I looked in my broken mirror, rechecking the wrap around my chest to assure it was snug. I turned to the side and pulled my white uniform shirt tighter, just to make sure I was well hidden, and to my relief I was. Releasing a shaky breath I straightened my tie and shrugged on the gray jacket, smoothing it down before ruffling my hair and turning to leave.

The longer I walked the more my mind wandered. Do I still look convincing, my lips have filled out more, does my face look too feminine? I try not to smile or laugh as much, and I try to keep my talking to a minimum. Sometimes I'd accidentally break out of my facade, my true tone grabbing the attention of passersby; so I've learned to just not talk whenever possible.

_______

As I entered the school my attention was ensnared by the old charm of the buildings, the architecture, the plants, as well as the boyish atmosphere. I've never been in such a nice place before, I lived in an abandoned building most of my life, so this school feels like heaven.

I was so busy observing everything that I ended up tripping, having gotten my foot caught on a stone; I was about a second away from slamming into a brick wall when strong hands surprisingly grasped my shoulders at the last moment. They pulled me back up and safely onto my feet before relinquishing their grip, I felt anxious as I began to turn around, the stumble already had my heart racing.

The face I met was not what I expected - he looked to be about my age, and unlike most boys, he had a boisterously bright shade of blond hair. I had to look up a bit to greet him, but when I did, I found myself unable to speak. He was beautiful, his skin was light, and his eyes the most calming blue. I immediately noticed a slight peculiarity in his left pupil, but quickly shook myself, having realized that I'd been staring blankly for a few seconds.

I'm about to speak, but he beats me to it.

"Careful there, can't have you hurting yourself on your first day." His accented voice rings out through the noisy environment, and his face adorns a lovely smile with crooked teeth. I'm so entranced by him that I overlook how he knows it's my first day, instead anxiously attempting to form a response.

"Thank you, I really should pay more attention next time." My voice is a little shaky, and I get a nervous chill when I realize that I didn't lower my tone enough. His expression goes from welcoming to curious - maybe even slightly cautious, and a glint of something streamed through his eyes, but it was gone before I could interpret it. His head tilts slightly to the side as he silently gazes at me for a few seconds.

"It's alright, no harm done. Now what's your name? I'm Jack Celliers." He reaches out his hand, the grin reappearing on his face. I force my nervousness away as much as possible, reaching out my hand and carefully shaking his.

"Hello Jack, I'm Shiloh, Shiloh Carmichael."

_______

That was the day I knew I had met my best friend, he was always there for me, helping me with things that I didn't understand, especially when it came to maths and sciences. We were in the same year, which helped out a lot as we had a lot of classes together. I'd end up helping him as well, mainly with literature and history.

It took me a while to open up to him about my past - 2 years to be exact, but I eventually told him of my situation. How I have no memory of my family, that I live in an abandoned and crumbling building, how I learned everything from staying up at unreasonable hours reading as much as possible, how I only have two other pairs of clothing, and that I have to beg for enough money just to get them washed.

Needless to say, he became quite distressed and worried about my situation; don't even get me started on his reaction to learning that my first real meal was the school lunch I ate on my first day. My heart raced at the worry he was displaying for me, I wanted him to care for me, but not in the friendship way. I try to bury those thoughts though, he thinks I'm a boy, there's no way he would ever care for me the way I want him to.

_______

I scrambled into class just before the bell rang, my body shaking with adrenaline as the teacher harshly glared at me, telling me to take my seat in a curt tone. I nod my head as I rush to my seat, Jack immediately looks to me, offering a smile before returning his attention to the teacher.

I was unable to pay attention to any of my lessons, my mind kept straying to what happened last night. I had walked back into my 'home' after a tiring day of school that was followed by Jack talking me into playing a couple of sports games with him and his friends. I just wanted to fall onto my raggedy mattress and drift away, but the sight I was met with was a group of about 3 men.

They were all much larger than me, and ransacking through what little possessions I had. They all turned their heads to me, eyeing my backpack and nice uniform, glancing at one another before grimly smirking at me. One reached into his pants pocket and flicked out a switchblade, but before they could even take a step towards me I had bolted out of the building.

This isn't the first time this has happened to me, but it is no less scary; the last time I was caught they took everything but the clothes on my back.

Being a teen now, I hoped they would give up, but they chased me for a good while, almost catching me a couple of times, but they eventually gave up. I had run into a small store along a busy street, my lungs felt like they had been ripped in half, and my feet were about ready to fall off.

I had nowhere to sleep that night, and I had lost all my other clothes, meaning I was going to be stuck in this uniform for a while. I had taken my chest wrap off when I started walking home too, and I ditched it as soon as I took off, so I'm in a bit of a rough spot. This means that I have my shoulders constantly pushed forward, and my jacket buttoned all the way up today.

As lunch lolled around, I found myself sitting on the stairs away from the lunch hall. I just wanted some alone time to think, to try and figure out how to get spare clothes and a new place to stay. I'm sucked out of my thoughts by something landing in my lap, I glance down to see a soft, fuzzy looking peach. Staring up in confusion, I am met by the concerned gaze of Jack as he offers a quiet greeting. I want to respond, but I really have nothing to say at the moment.

After a second of no response he sighs, dropping himself onto the stair next to me, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks over to me. I, of course, avoid his gaze at all costs, only finally giving in after a few minutes of silence.

"What's wrong Shiloh? You haven't said a word all day, and now you're skipping lunch, you never skip lunch." His voice is concerned, he's sitting so close to me I almost want to blush, but I know I can't allow that.

"Jack... I'm f-" I begin, about to say I was just feeling tired from sports yesterday, but got cut off by him.

"Don't tell me a lie." His accented tone was sharp, almost warning me that there would be consequences. I shy away from him now, he's never talked to me like this, I don't want him to be angry at me, and I know lying will only aggravate him further.

"...When I got 'home' last night.. There were some people there." My sentence comes out hesitantly as I tentatively look at his stoic face, the sternness quickly shifting to concern.

"What?" His voice raises in surprise, he shifts his body to face me as I continue.

"To cut a long story short, I don't have any place to stay, and the only clothes I have are the ones I'm wearing. Everything else is theirs now... I'm just glad they didn't catch me to-"

"Catch you! You mean they chased you!" The shock in his voice is evident, but not as obvious as the distress that's radiating off him in waves.

A silence settles over us as his eyes shift from me to the floor, wringing his hands as he thinks, his mind seems to be running a mile a minute.

"You can stay with me." It takes me a few seconds to acknowledge that he actually just said that. My head snaps towards him, I can't help but be stunned. I open my mouth to argue, but the look he gives me tells me that he won't take 'no' for an answer.

My eyes dart to the floor, a moment passing before I release a sigh and reluctantly accept his offer.

_______

I tried to slip out of school before Jack could stop me; I thought it would be easy to disappear amongst the throng of students, but the hold on my arm tells me something different. I turn to see Jack giving me a warning look, his serene blue eyes holding a protective element in them. I turn my gaze to the students leaving before lowering my head, allowing Jack to lead me away.

The whole day I've felt on edge, maybe because I don't have a chest wrap on today, maybe it's because I didn't sleep last night. Or perhaps it's because I am undeniably attracted to Jack and now he's having me live with him and his family until further notice. How am I supposed to hide my true self now? How am I supposed to hide my love for him? It certainly doesn't help that he towers over me, all the boys at school say I'm short, but at 5 foot 6 I am the average height for a woman.

"I called my parents during break, they're fine with you staying with us, but they need the living room and guest room clear, so we'll be sharing my room." I swear my heart was trying to rip itself out of my chest with how hard it was beating, and I could feel my breath getting caught in my throat, but I tried to cover it with a cough before nodding my head 'okay'.

We stay silent the rest of the time, but I could tell that Jack had something on his mind that he desperately wanted to say, and it's making me nervous.

_______

Jack said his parents and brother were out until tomorrow evening, so we spent our time exploring the house; him showing me his room, the kitchen, where the bathroom and laundry rooms are, as well as showing me the garden. I could tell he was surprised when my face lit up at seeing the beautiful plants. I was so caught up that I grabbed his hand and dragged him around as I named all the plants as well as little facts about them. I couldn't see it, but he had a warm smile on his face as well as a light blush dusting his cheeks.

We spent our time sitting in the garden, doing our homework underneath the shade of the trees. Him helping me with my maths, myself helping him with his literature homework, he always seems to have trouble understanding the assigned chapters.

The sun was beating down a little harsher than usual for this season, and the jackets were making us a little stuffy. I shrugged mine off without a second thought, Jack doing the same thing, he turns and places his jacket beside him while talking to me about the passage. As he looks back towards me he suddenly halts mid-sentence. I look towards him in confusion, but his gaze seems to be even more confused as he looks from my face to my chest in a quick succession.

My entire body goes rigid as I realize my fatal mistake, quickly grabbing my jacket and wrapping it back around me. My breathing stutters as I hurriedly shove my books into my backpack before I hurriedly start walking away. Jack sits there for a second in shock at this revelation before bolting up, running towards me as I too had now begun to run.

I should've known better than to try and run from Jack for he catches me in no time, tightly holding my wrist as he pulls me back towards his house. I tried everything from sitting down to biting him, but nothing stopped him as he dragged me inside, only releasing me to shut and lock the door.

I drop my bag and bolt through the house and up the stairs, trying to find some escape; in my delirium I corner myself in his bedroom. I can hear him right behind me, slamming his bedroom door shut as he grabs both my wrists and pushes me back to the wall. I don't know what to think, he's probably just as confused as I am - maybe even a little angry. I'm also terrified, I could lose my best friend right now.

He hasn't said a thing to me the entire time, and now all the stress and anxiety is just too high, so high that I find myself no longer able to hold back the river of tears. I turn my head to the side, not wanting him to see me in such a weak and vulnerable state. His grip loosens as he surveys the situation, unsure of how to react, especially after what has just occurred.

"Don't.. Please, don't cry, Shiloh." His voice is soft, softer than I've ever heard him speak before, and his tone seems different than his normal caring one. I turn my head away from him even further, but he gently places a hand against my jaw, tenderly turning me to face him. I shut my eyes tightly, fearful of what I might see.

"Open your eyes darling." My eyes open slowly in shock, him calling me 'darling' sets my chest a flare as my attraction for him comes forward with a vengeance, my cheeks burning with a crimson blush, my tears slowing as I gaze up into his doting eyes. My hair still drapes over my eyes, obstructing our eye contact - something that he quickly fixes.

Gently raising his other hand, softly combing his fingers through my hair as he brushes it to the side. My breathing is shallow as I gaze deeply into his eyes, his cheeks also seem to be tinted red as he smiles affectionately at me.

"Much better, I've been wondering what your beautiful eyes looked like."

Senseless Reality

It was early on a Thursday morning when she received the dreadful news that her husband was dead.

She had been wondering why he didn't return home last night, even waiting by the phone, eventually calling him but never receiving an answer.

She had just walked her children, Lisette and Alonso, down their lengthy driveway to the school bus awaiting, softly waving goodbye as it noisily drove away, finally letting her smile and hand fall as the bus went out of view.

Turning back to walk home she realized the birds were being particularly quiet, abnormally so, it made the silence uncomfortable as she was trapped with her ceaseless thoughts; not even the breeze rattling the fallen leaves was as loud as usual. She smoothed her black braided hair to the side before tugging uneasily on the sleeves of her blue-grey sweater, tightly wrapping her arms around her body as she began the walk back home, listening closely to the crunch under her shoes, her mind still wandering in confusion as to where her husband, Ryker, was.

A few steps away from her porch she slowed her walking as she heard the sound of a car, her steps faltering slightly as she turned around, revealing the stand-out black and white pattern of a Belmont, Ohio police car driving towards her. The glare against the windshield from the grey sky made it impossible to see who was driving, leaving her unsure whether to feel overjoyed or distraught at it's surprise appearance.

The closer it drove the quicker her heart beat, taking in shallower breaths as she watched the car pull to a stop a few feet away. Her hands subconsciously wringing each other as she waited for the car door to swing open, suddenly feeling uncomfortably hot even though it was fairly chilly. She knew the dangers her husband was in due to his line of work, and knew that he could be injured or killed on any call-out; but nothing would prepare her for the despondent look on the officers face as he stepped out of the car.

Ryker was on call with his partner for a breaking and entering in a residential zone, the criminal had gone out the back and rounded the house to come up behind them as they went to enter through the busted doorway, shooting both several times in the back before running. The police were currently searching for him, but only have two witnesses, one who glimpsed him as he began to bust open their door, and a neighbor who saw what was happening and called the cops.

As the officer explained what happened her mind went blank, the already dampened noise of the forest completely disappearing and that uncomfortable heat suddenly vanishing, leaving her body instead feeling empty. She quickly found herself forced back into reality when the officer had reached out to touch her shoulder, it wasn't rude or unwelcome since this officer was real good friends with herself and Ryker, but the sudden and unexpected contact shocked her enough to jerk her shoulder away and take a step back. He immediately withdrew his arm, his gaze cast down towards the floor, whilst she dawned a regretful look as she realized her actions.

She finally said, "I'm sorry Carter, I-I just feel slightly overwhelmed at the moment." Her voice timidly quiet, a slight stutter as she tries to understand and control all the emotions suddenly running through her. A look of understanding washes over his face before nodding his head solemnly and turning back to his car, "Goodbye Saden." Carter spoke, offering a brief, sad smile before stepping into his car and driving off.

There were many thoughts rushing through Saden's head, all of the news not hitting her fully yet. With her mind racing she slowly made her way into her cabin home, locking the door before resting her forehead harshly against the stained wood, giving herself one moment of peace before pushing off and heading to the phone to make a couple of calls.

-------

The house is dark, giving off an unsettling and discomfited aura; the sun not having risen yet and no lights nearby, yet here is a boy with his school uniform and backpack on quietly closing the front door. He starts walking away from his house quickly, the anxious atmosphere surrounding him slowly dissipating the further he got, his tensed shoulders and on-edge look lessening to simply slight paranoia.

He has a scar above his eye, its somewhat red color making it obvious against his pale skin. He got this scar the same time he lost his mother and half-sister, the car crash was brutal, only him and one of the other cars passengers having survived.

He shades his eyes away from the blinding headlights that pass by every so often as he walks down the pavement, his paranoia disappearing the closer he nears Bingham's Pond. He finds a spot away from the road, setting his bag down as he observes the slumbering swans and ducks. A small smile graces his features as he remembers when he and his mother, Liz, would come here early in the morning to talk and watch the sunrise before school; his smile disappearing as quickly as it had arrived as he realizes he can only come here alone now. He could always ask his step-father Alec to come with him, but he dreaded any response Alec gave, especially now that he was the only one to survive the car crash.

In an attempt to shake his thoughts away from the past he glances back to the swans, admiring their beauty against the dark water. The first few sun rays start to glow against the dim sky, a slight breeze causing him to shiver as he has no uniform jacket since that costs extra money. As he sits down and leans against a tree he winces at the pain flaring up in his back before shaking it off and pulling his bag towards him, unbuckling the freezing metal and reaching in, pulling out a folder containing unfinished homework; a lot of them had crumples and tears even though he kept them neatly in a folder.

Releasing a weary and exasperated sigh he began working, starting with his name, 'Archer Carlisle', his cold hands making it harder to write and a look of aggravation flashes through his eyes as he knows that he will not get all this homework done before school; dread filling him at the thought of having to tell Alec about the bad grade even though his unfinished and torn homework was Alec's fault. With another sigh he got back to work, attempting to finish as much of it as quickly and as accurately as possible.

-------

It's been a week since I was told about his death, I already knew that I couldn't stay in our comfy Ohio home, especially since Ryker built it; just walking through the door caused a nauseating feeling to wash over me knowing that I'll never see him again.

The funeral was yesterday afternoon... The black dress I wore is now a pile of grey ashes in the firepit. My daughter Lisette went with me, it was a windy day with a sprinkle of rain dusting the ground outside; it seems that the world was even mourning the loss, but that's probably just me putting meaning into simple things.

My son Alonso took the death of his father very hard, I know how close they were, and seeing my son crying made a tear break through my facade of strength, but I had to quickly wipe it away as I embraced my weeping son. His cries lasted for an hour, Lisette began to cry as well when she saw Al's shaking form being comforted by mine. That night I stayed with them in their room, sitting on the carpeted floor between their two beds, one hand grasped in each of mine as I told them stories to lull them to sleep. When I knew they were asleep, I continued to hold their hands, leaning my head back against the wooden wall as I stared up at the ceiling, the light from the moon creating shadows of tree branches against the opposite wall. I simply sat there, thinking about the calls I made the day I received the news; by next week, what's left of my family will be in our Scotland cottage, away from here, away from him.

I still need to tell the kids, I'm not sure how to tell them we're moving away, away from everything that reminds us of their father. I can only hope they will not despise me for this decision, but just staying in this home causes my mind to wander in a direction I will not allow myself to go in.

------

The bell rings loudly as I rush into the closing door of my classroom, glancing around the room I see everyone already seated and the teacher watching me pointedly. Lowering my gaze, I straighten out my homework and turn-in the messily finished pages to the basket before traipsing past my teacher's desk to reach my seat, avoiding his and everyone else's gaze at all times.

I know I shouldn't be frightened by my teachers, but Mr.Curraigh has the same stern voice as Alec, and I can't help but be anxious whenever I step foot into his class; his strict rules and intimidating stature don't exactly help me when trying to differentiate the two.

Mr.Curraigh glances up from his computer to me, I swallow nervously and shuffle slightly in my seat as I look down to the paper I delicately placed onto my desk. The class's quiet chatter had resumed a few moments ago, but was quickly halted again when Mr.Curraigh pushed his leaning figure off of his desk and leisurely strided to the front of the class.

"Mr.Carlisle, wish to explain to the class why you were late? Again." His nonchalant first sentence greatly contrasted his harsh enunciation of 'again'. Subconsciously I lower my head as the class is silent, other classes might giggle, but they know not to screw around in this class.

I shake my head 'no' not fully trusting my voice to answer without stuttering.

"I can't hear you Archer. Will you explain to the class why you were late." His sharp, accented voice rang out against the stillness and left no room to avoid his question. I know he is looking at me as he awaits his answer. I finally look up at him, answering quietly as my gaze constantly flickers between him and the ceiling.

"I overslept sir, I won't let it happen again." I tried to present a calm face to hopefully stop him from calling me out again, my mind inside is blaring with thoughts of whether he will accept the excuse or not. A second passes before he walks back to the whiteboard and begins writing, everyone quickly copying it down in their notebooks, the conversation seemingly forgotten. An inkling of worry continued to nag in the back of my head that he knew my excuse was a fake, but I had no time to give it any contemplation as I was already falling behind on the notes, and my recent wrist injury isn't exactly going to benefit me either.

Class has finally ended, most people were packed up and waiting by the door for the bell, only a few people were sitting at their desks. I tuck the assigned homework into their folder, placing my notebook in my bag as well. I reach for the folder when another hand grasps it first, a hand belonging to no student. I keek my eyes up before quickly looking down at the desk, it was Mr.Curraigh who was holding my homework folder, he was leaning against the desk as he skimmed through the now open folder.

"Y'know, your organization and care doesn't add up when you turn in ripped papers." He states as he slowly closes the folder, holding it out for me to take, which I quickly follow through with, silently placing it in my bag.

"You want to tell me the real reason you always seem to be running late?" Mr.Curraigh questions, his normally loud and stern voice now quieter and containing a hint of concern. It's been a few moments and I have yet to respond when he voices,

"Archer, if you have a real reason as to why you are late, I understand, but I can't accept these fake excuses anymore. This is the 10th time you've been late. If you can't give me a real reason then I have to give you detention." His voice was never very strict or harsh throughout the sentence, having more of a warning tone to it, but all I can muster as a response is to uneasily shake my head 'no' as I look up to meet his gaze. Mr.Curraigh simply looks forward for a second before releasing an exasperated sigh and pushing off of the desk.

"Don't be late for detention Mr.Carlisle." Is all he says before walking back to his desk, the bell ringing and the students rushing out of the door, myself following immediately as to not be late to my next lesson. My thoughts for the rest of the day are clouded with how Alec will react when I come home late, how he will react when I tell him I got detention again. The dread pools in my chest, making it feel tight, the air suffocating me as I trudge through the day.

------

First day in our new home, it was a cottage that my parents owned and I inherited. Far away from Ohio, far away from Ryker, all the way in Glasgow, Scotland, located in a nice area with lolling green fields and a stone wall neatly surrounding it.

Lisette and Alonso had taken the move better than I expected, it would seem they wanted to get away as much as I did. I had called ahead to make sure the cottage was ready for when we arrived, and a friend of my parents is coming over to watch my children since I have to go to my job as soon as possible.

Rushing out of the house, I briskly give the friend a hug, quickly stating the time I'll be home before racing over to my rented Volkswagen vehicle. My bags strap twisting as I attempt to situate everything in the car, I quickly shove it into the passenger seat before adjusting the mirrors and heading off to my new job.

The grey clouds littering the sky remind me a lot of home, but this busy city is exactly what I need to get away from my small town life. Driving on the left side is quite odd though, something that'll take some getting used to.

As I pull into the parking lot I notice that school is nearing the end of the day, I hope I won't get fired before I even start. Quickly stumbling through the office door, I straighten my posture and shirt before walking to the front desk and stating I am the new science teacher. The woman smiles before phoning someone, I assume the principal or maybe another teacher.

After waiting for around 2 minutes, the office door loudly clamors open, a tall man with thick light brown hair and an intimidating stature strides in, giving a small nod to the woman before approaching me. I stand up and shake his offered hand.

"Hello there, I am Mr.Curriagh or Aric, I am here to escort you to your class." His voice has a thick accent to it, something I will have to get used too now since I'm living in Scotland. His intimidating posture seems to contrast with the friendly smile he offers.

"Pleasure to meet you Aric, I'm Saden." I politely respond before allowing him to lead me out of the office and down the hallway.

"So, you're the new science teacher?" He voices in slight curiosity, continuing to navigate the empty halls.

"Yes, what do you teach?" I question, walking faster to keep up with his brisk pace.

"Oh me? I've always been a literature person." His charismatic response causes a small smile to appear, the fact that people here are so nice and welcoming is something I adore. We come to a halt after another moment of walking.

"Well, this is your class, though you arrived a bit late." He explains as we watch through the window as students packed their bags. I release a quiet sigh, of course I would miss the whole first day of my job.

"Don't worry about missing your class, you can pop in to help with detention or explore the grounds." Aric states as he flickers his eyes from the window to me, I'm about to respond when the bell rings loudly, echoing through the empty halls before the classroom doors swing open and students file out. We both stand near the window of my classroom until the halls quiet down again, only a few students standing around, whilst some are just now finishing packing up.

Aric turns to speak to me again when his gaze turns to something behind me, his sudden shout startling me, and I quickly turn around to see the culprit.

A young boy with dark brown hair immediately halts, his eyes going wide at being shouted at, his arm tightening its hold around his book clutched against his chest.

"Archer. Detention is in the other direction." Aric states as he walks up to the student. I would expect any student to be nervous at being called out by a teacher, but this student, Archer, appeared downright terrified.

Before Archer is able to respond, Aric begins to speak again. "This is the second time you've attempted to skip detention, Archer." Giving a slight break as he waits for a response, after receiving none he let out a groan of irritation before stating, "Come with me Archer." Beginning to walk back over to me, Archer trailing a few steps behind with his eyes trained on the floor.

"I'm sorry to cut your tour short, but I have to escort this student to detention." Aric states as he glances back to Archer.

"Quite alright Aric, mind if I come with? I did miss my first day after all." I question, glancing at Archer, his eyes not having moved from the floor the whole time. Aric briefly nods his head before leading the way to detention. I quickly follow, attempting to keep up, listening as Aric describes the parts of the school we pass through.

------

Who is this person? Is she the new teacher? She did say she missed her first day here, and our new teacher for science was unable to show up.

I lift my head up, my eyes looking at her for a moment as I contemplate whether I should ask my question or not. Finally giving in to curiosity, I ask, "Are you the new science teacher?" My question seems to startle them both out of their small talk, Mr.Curraigh now silent as we await her response.

She turns to me and offers a friendly smile before responding, "Yes that's me, you can call me Mrs.Monroe." Her response is nice but short, and her voice seemed to waver slightly when she said her last name, causing my head to tilt ever so slightly in confusion at her reluctance to speak her last name.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs.Monroe, my name is Archer." I respond, my voice seeming more confident and louder than my normal tone, though I barely give it any thought. For what time was left of the walk to detention, I spent it talking to Mrs.Monroe, I don't know why, but she seemed easier to talk with, it could've been from her non-intimidating stance and height, or possibly that she reminded me of my mother, both of which are plausible.

We were talking about the book I was holding, "Great Expectations", when Mr.Curraigh comes to a halt, the room that detention is held in being right in front of us. I reach out to grab the handle, momentarily forgetting about my wrist injury until I release a grunt of pain, immediately pulling my wrist back and holding it against my chest as the harsh gripping agony floods my system, reminding me of yesterday.

Both Mr.Curraigh and Mrs.Monroe seem shocked at my sudden outburst of pain, Mrs.Monroe is about to say something but I have no time to think, stumbling backwards I turn slightly and run off. I go to the only place I feel safe, Bingham's Pond, or Swan Pond as my mother used to say; just remembering that causes a wave of anguish to sweep through my body, all these things that keep happening are too overwhelming. First I lose my mother and sister in a car crash, then my step-father(who already disliked me) blames me for it, and now I have a teacher who reminds me exactly of my mother, I simply don't know how I should feel or respond to these situations anymore. I'm so caught up in these prolific thoughts and aching pain that I fail to hear the footsteps approaching me.

It was the sudden hand on my shoulder that caused me to gasp in surprise at the presence of another person. Quickly turning my head I expect to see an angry Mr.Curraigh or possibly Alec, but I am instead met by Mrs.Monroe's sad smile as she crouches next to me. Reaching out her hand for my wrist I flinch away, but after another second I allow her to see my wrist, ignoring the possible consequence that she might question how I sustained this injury.

It was the slight widening of her eyes that caused me to follow her gaze, I chose to never look at my injuries, so seeing my wrist all swollen and bruised causes my eyes to widen as well. She lightly touches my wrist and I immediately pull away, the pain scorching through my arm. She seems to sit there in a moment of thought, as though contemplating what she should say.

"Archer. How did this happen?" There it was, the one thing I didn't want to hear. I shake my head and look away, only now realizing that a few tears had streamed down my face, quickly wiping them with my free hand. I don't hear a response to my refusal so I glance back, seeing Mrs.Monroe holding back tears as well, though why, I do not know. Shaking her head, she pushes herself off of the floor, and reaches out a hand for me, which I slowly take. Now standing I dust myself off with my good hand, loosely holding my backpack as I await her questions.

All she does is, seemingly shake her head to herself, before motioning for me to follow her. She leads me back to school, never speaking or glancing to me, just staring forward, almost emptily. She takes me to the medical room and tells me to wait by the door as she walks away to converse with a nurse. I wonder what she is saying, does she suspect that my step-father caused these injuries? Or does she think another student did this to me? Should I just run while I still have the chance? My thoughts are abruptly halted as both Mrs.Monroe and the nurse walk over to me, my nervousness kicking in at another person now being present.

I attempted to not pay attention to the flare ups of pain as the nurse wrapped my wrist in an ice bag, the freezing cold making me shiver as the weather outside was already chilly. After a few minutes of icing my wrist she brings out a compression bandage, snuggly wrapping my wrist and hand, the pain has lessened, but maintains a steady ache that surrounds my whole arm. When she finishes she gives me instructions to do daily, and a note for class seeing as that was my writing hand.

Walking over to the door, I spot Mrs.Monroe waiting there, her friendly smile replaced by a serious and stern look, one that makes my steps a little more hesitant. We leave the med room and walk out into the quiet, desolate hallway, her face still serious as we both stop.

"How did you get that injury Archer." It wasn't a question, but something that demanded an answer, one I was extremely reluctant to give. Angling my face away from her I shake my head 'no' again, not wanting to tell her the truth, my mind blaring that it would cause more pain than good, that even if she did believe me no one else would.

"Archer, if you don't tell me, then I will have to tell the office to call your dad." She states, her voice losing some of it's sternness as she attempts to get me to answer.

Hearing her call Alec my dad causes all these feelings to just explode, my anger is flowing freely, and I can't help but react chaotically, "HE'S NOT MY DAD!" My shout echos down the hallway, the silence left in its wake is uncomfortable, all that anger-driven confidence quickly leaves my body as I exhale. She's not stupid, she's going to figure out what's going on, I'll be taken away from my home, the last place that reminds me of my mom and sister.

Her posture seems to stiffen after hearing my response, I can only hope she won't be angry with my outburst.

"I'm only going to ask you one more time. Who did this." Her voice was deathly quiet, the second sentence being harshly enunciated and leaving no room for excuses. I finally face her, though my head is still lowered, my eyes flickering up to her every so often as I contemplate what I am about to say.

"....Alec." My voice practically a whisper, though I know she heard it, and knowing that someone else is aware of this secret just causes me to feel... vulnerable.

Sinnelose Realiteit(Afrikaans)

Dit was vroeg op'n donderdag oggend toe sy ontvang die verskriklike nuus dat haar man is dood.

Sy het gewonder waarom hy nie terugkeer huis laaste nag, selfs wag deur die selfoon, uiteindelik hom roep, maar nooit ontvang'n antwoord.

Sy het net geloop het haar kinders, Lisette en Alonso, hul lang oprit na die skool bus wag, saggies waai totsiens as dit luidrugtig weggery, uiteindelik laat haar glimlag en hand val as die bus het uit die oog. Draai terug na die huis loop sy besef die voëls is besonder stil, abnormaal so, dit het die stilte ongemaklik as wat sy was vasgevang met haar eindelose gedagtes; nie eens die wind huppelend die blare was so hard soos gewoonlik. Sy stryk haar swart gevleg hare na die kant voor pluk onrustig op die moue van haar blou-grys trui, styf wikkel haar arms om haar liggaam as sy het begin om die loop terug huis toe, luister nou na die crunch onder haar skoene, haar gedagtes nog dwaal in die verwarring oor waar haar man, Ryker, was. 'n paar stappe weg van haar stoep sy vertraag haar loop as sy hoor die geluid van'n motor, haar wankelrige stappe effens as sy omdraai, die onthulling van die staan-uit die swart-en-wit patroon van'n Belmont, Ohio die polisie die motor ry in die rigting van haar. Die glans teen die voorruit van die grys lug het dit onmoontlik gemaak om te sien wat jy ry, laat haar onseker is of om te voel oorstelp van vreugde of ontstelde op dit se verbasing voorkoms.

Die digter dit gery het die haar hart vinniger klop, neem in vlakker asem as sy kyk na die motor trek na'n stop'n paar meter weg. Haar hande onbewustelik wring mekaar as sy gewag het vir die motor deur te swaai oop, skielik voel ongemaklik warm, selfs al was dit redelik koud. Sy het geweet van die gevare haar man was in danke aan sy lyn van werk, en het geweet dat hy kon beseer word of gedood op enige oproep-uit, maar niks sou haar voor te berei vir die moedeloos kyk op die beamptes gesig as hy klim uit die motor.

Ryker was op die oproep met sy vennoot vir'n breek en betree in'n residensiële sone, die kriminele gegaan het uit die rug en afgeronde die huis te kom agter hulle as wat hulle gegaan het om te gaan deur die busted deur, skiet beide paar keer in die rug voor die loop. Die polisie is tans op soek na hom, maar het net twee getuies, een wat bijhorend hom as hy het begin om te breek maak hul deure oop, en'n buurman wat gesien het wat gebeur het en het die polisie.

As die beampte verduidelik wat gebeur het haar gedagtes het leeg, die reeds gedemp geraas van die bos heeltemal verdwyn en dat die ongemaklike hitte skielik verdwyn, die verlaat van haar liggaam in plaas daarvan voel leeg. Sy het gou gevind haarself gedwing om terug in die werklikheid toe die beampte het bereik uit om haar aan te raak skouer, dit was nie onbeskof of onwelkome aangesien hierdie beampte was baie goeie vriende met haarself en Ryker, maar die skielike en onverwagse kontak geskok haar genoeg te ruk haar skouer weg en neem'n stap terug. Hy het onmiddellik onttrek sy arm, sy oë gegooi af na die vloer, terwyl sy aangebreek'n jammer kyk as sy besef haar optrede.

Sy ten slotte gesê, "ek is jammer Carter, ek-ek voel net effens oorweldig op die oomblik."Haar stem timidly stil, 'n effense hakkel as sy probeer om te verstaan en beheer al die emosies skielik loop deur haar. 'n blik van die begrip spoel oor sy gesig voor knik sy kop plegtig en draai terug na sy motor, "Totsiens Saden."Carter het, bied'n kort, hartseer glimlag voordat versterking in sy motor en ry af.

Daar is baie gedagtes gedruis deur Saden se kop, al die nuus nie slaan haar ten volle nie. Met haar verstand racing sy stadig haar pad gemaak in haar kajuit huis, sluit die deur voor te rus haar voorkop hard teen die lood hout, gee haar een oomblik van vrede voor stoot af en op pad na die telefoon om te maak'n paar van die oproepe.

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Die huis is donker, gee af'n ontstellende en verwarring aura; die son nie opgestaan het nie en geen ligte in die buurt, maar hier is'n seuntjie met sy skool uniform en rugsak op stil-stil die sluiting van die voordeur. Hy begin loop weg van sy huis vinnig, die angstige atmosfeer rondom hom stadig verkwis die verdere hy het, sy gespanne skouers en op die rand kyk vermindering van om net effense paranoia.

Hy het'n litteken bo sy oog, die ietwat rooi kleur maak dit voor die hand liggend teen sy bleek vel. Hy het hierdie litteken dieselfde tyd wat hy verloor sy ma en half-suster, die motor-ongeluk was wreed, net hom en een van die ander motors passasiers na oorleef.

Hy skakerings sy oë weg van die verblindende hoofligte wat slaag deur elke so dikwels as wat hy loop af in die sypaadjie, sy paranoia verdwyn die nader hy nader Bingham se Dam. Hy vind'n plek weg van die pad, die opstel van sy sak af as hy neem die sluimerende swane en eende. 'n klein glimlag genades van sy funksies as hy onthou toe hy en sy ma, Liz, sou hier kom vroeg in die oggend om te praat en kyk na die sonsopkoms voor die skool; sy glimlag verdwyn so vinnig as wat dit aangekom het as hy besef hy kan net kom hier nou alleen. Hy kan altyd vra sy stap-pa Alec om te kom met hom, maar hy gevreesde enige reaksie Alec het, veral nou dat hy was die enigste een om te oorleef die motor te crash.

In'n poging om te skud sy gedagtes weg van die afgelope hy kyk terug na die swane, bewonder hul skoonheid teen die donker water. Die eerste paar son strale begin te gloei teen die dowwe lug, 'n effense briesie wat veroorsaak dat om hom te bewe as hy het geen eenvormige baadjie sedert daardie koste ekstra geld. As hy gaan sit en leun teen'n boom hy winces op die pyn opvlam in sy rug voor skud dit af en trek sy sak na hom, unbuckling die bevriesing metaal en die bereiking van in, trek uit'n gids met onvoltooide huiswerk; baie van hulle het crumples en trane selfs al het hy het hulle netjies in'n gids. Vrystelling van'n moeë en bitter sug hy begin werk, begin met sy naam, "het Archer Carlisle", sy koue hande maak dit moeiliker om te skryf en'n blik van verswaring flitse deur sy oë as hy weet dat hy nie sal kry al hierdie huiswerk gedoen voor die skool; vrees vul hom by die gedagte van om te sê Alec oor die slegte graad selfs al is sy onvoltooide en verskeur huiswerk was Alec se skuld. Met'n ander sug hy het weer aan die werk, probeer om te voltooi as baie van dit so vinnig en so akkuraat as moontlik.

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Dit was'n week sedert ek was vertel oor sy dood, het ek reeds geweet het wat ek kon nie bly in ons gemaklike Ohio huis, veral sedert Ryker dit gebou het; net loop deur die deur het'n walglike gevoel om oor my was om te weet dat ek sal hom nooit weer sien.

Die begrafnis was gister middag... Die swart rok wat ek gedra het, is nou'n hopie grys as in die firepit. My dogter Lisette het saam met my, dit was'n winderige dag met'n sprinkel van die reën afstof die grond buite, blyk dit dat die wêreld was selfs rou oor die verlies, maar dit is waarskynlik net vir my om betekenis in die eenvoudige dinge. My seun Alonso het die dood van sy vader baie moeilik, ek weet hoe naby hulle was, en sien my seun huil het'n traan breek deur middel van my fasade van krag, maar ek het om te vinnig vee dit weg as ek omhels my geween seun. Sy huil geduur het vir'n uur, Lisette begin om te huil as goed wanneer sy sien Al se skud vorm word getroos deur die myn. Daardie aand het ek het saam met hulle in hul kamer, sit op die vloer matte tussen hul twee beddens, een hand onder die knie in elkeen van my as ek jou vertel hulle stories na die stilte van hulle aan die slaap. Wanneer ek geweet het hulle was aan die slaap, ek het voortgegaan om hul hande te hou, leun my kop terug teen die hout muur as ek staar na die plafon, die lig van die maan die skep van skadu van die boom takke teen die teenoorgestelde muur. Ek het net sit daar, dink oor die oproepe wat ek gemaak het die dag toe ek die nuus ontvang; teen volgende week, wat is links van my familie sal wees in ons Skotland huis, weg van hier, weg van hom.

Ek het nog steeds nodig om die kinders te vertel, ek is nie seker hoe om te vertel hulle ons is weg te beweeg, weg van alles wat ons herinner van hul vader. Ek kan maar net hoop hulle sal nie verag my vir hierdie besluit, maar net te bly in hierdie huis veroorsaak dat my gedagtes om te dwaal in'n rigting wat ek sal nie toelaat dat my om in te gaan.

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Die klok lui hard as ek haastig in die sluiting van die deur van my klaskamer, en kyk in die kamer rond ek sien almal reeds sit en die onderwyser kyk na my opvallend. Die verlaging van my oë, ek reguit uit my huiswerk en draai-in die messily klaar bladsye aan die mandjie voor traipsing verby my juffrou se lessenaar te bereik my sitplek, vermy sy en almal anders se oë te alle tye.

Ek weet ek moet nie bang wees deur my onderwysers, maar Mnr Curraigh het dieselfde streng stem as Alec, en ek kan nie help nie, maar word angstig wanneer ek stap voet in sy klas; sy streng reëls en intimiderend statuur nie presies my help wanneer ek probeer om te onderskei tussen die twee.

Mnr Curraigh blik van sy rekenaar aan my, ek sluk senuweeagtig en skuif effens in my stoel as ek kyk af na die papier ek delikaat geplaas op my lessenaar. Die klas se stil chatter hervat het'n paar oomblikke gelede, maar is vinnig gestop weer toe Mnr Curraigh stoot sy leun figuur af van sy lessenaar en rustig strided aan die voorkant van die klas.

"Mnr Carlisle, wil om te verduidelik aan die klas hoekom is jy laat is? Weer."Sy nonchalant eerste sin grootliks gekontrasteer sy harde uitspraak van "weer". Onbewustelik het ek my kop laer as die klas is stil, ander klasse kan giggel, maar hulle weet nie om te skroef rond in hierdie klas.

Ek skud my kop " nee " nie ten volle vertrou my stem te beantwoord sonder om te hakkel.

"Ek kan nie hoor jy Archer. Sal jy verduidelik aan die klas hoekom is jy laat is."Sy skerp, aksent stem lui uit teen die stilte en geen ruimte gelaat om te verhoed dat sy vraag. Ek weet hy is op soek na my as hy wag vir sy antwoord. Ek het uiteindelik kyk op na hom, die beantwoording van stil as my blik voortdurend flikker tussen hom en die plafon.

"Ek het verslaap meneer, ek sal nie laat dit weer gebeur nie."Ek het probeer om aan te bied'n kalm gesig om hopelik ophou om hom van my roeping weer uit, my gedagtes binne-in is blêrende met gedagtes of hy sal aanvaar die verskoning of nie. 'n tweede slaag voordat hy loop terug na die witbord en begin skryf, almal vinnig kopieer dit af in hul notaboeke, die gesprek skynbaar vergeet. 'n aanduiding van die bekommer het voortgegaan om te nag in die agterkant van my kop dat hy geweet het my verskoning was'n vals, maar ek het nie tyd gehad om dit te gee enige nadenke as ek was reeds agter die val op die notas, en my onlangse pols besering is nie presies gaan om voordeel te trek my óf.

Die klas het uiteindelik geëindig het, die meeste mense is gepak en wag by die deur vir die klok, net'n paar mense sit by hul lessenaars. Ek snoepie die opgedra huiswerk in hul gids, plaas my notebook in my sak as goed. Ek bereik vir die gids wanneer die ander hand gryp dit die eerste keer, 'n hand wat aan geen student. Ek keek my oë voor vinnig kyk neer op die lessenaar, dit was Mnr Curraigh wat hou my huiswerk gids, hy was leun teen die lessenaar as hy afgeroomde deur die nou oop gids.

"Y'know, jou organisasie en sorg nie optel wanneer jy draai in geruk vraestelle."Hy sê as hy stadig sluit die gids, hou dit vir my uit te neem, wat ek doen vinnig volg deur met, stil plaas dit in my sak.

"Jy wil my vertel die werklike rede hoekom jy altyd lyk om te laat loop?"Mnr Curraigh vrae, sy gewoonlik hard en streng stem nou stiller en met'n wenk van kommer. Dit was'n paar oomblikke en ek het nog nie om te reageer wanneer hy stemme,

"Archer, as jy het'n werklike rede waarom jy is laat, ek verstaan, maar ek kan nie aanvaar hierdie vals verskonings nie. Hierdie is die 10de keer het jy is laat. As jy kan nie gee my'n ware rede dan het ek het om te gee jy aanhouding."Sy stem was nog nooit baie streng of harde regdeur die sin, met meer van'n waarskuwing toon vir dit, maar al wat ek kan uitkry as'n reaksie is om te onrustig skud my kop" nee " as ek kyk op om te voldoen aan sy blik. Mnr Curraigh net vorentoe kyk vir'n sekonde voor die vrystelling van'n bitter sug en druk af van die lessenaar.

"Moenie laat wees vir aanhouding Mnr Carlisle."Is al wat hy sê voor loop terug na sy lessenaar, die klok lui en die studente gedruis uit van die deur, myself volgende onmiddellik as om nie te laat wees om my volgende les. My gedagtes vir die res van die dag is vertroebel met hoe Alec sal reageer wanneer ek by die huis kom laat, hoe hy sal reageer wanneer ek vir hom sê ek het aanhouding weer. Die gevreesde poele in my bors, maak dit voel styf en die lug versmoor as ek strompel deur die dag.

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Eerste dag in ons nuwe huis, dit was'n huisie wat my ouers besit en ek geërf het. Ver weg van Ohio, ver weg van die Ryker, al die pad in Glasgow, Skotland, geleë in'n mooi area met lolling groen velde en'n klip muur netjies rondom dit.

Lisette en Alonso het die skuif beter as wat ek verwag het, sou dit lyk asof hulle wou om weg te kom soveel as wat ek gedoen het. Ek het genoem voor om seker te maak dat die huis is gereed vir wanneer ons aangekom het, en'n vriend van my ouers kom oor om te kyk na my kinders, want ek het om te gaan na my werk so gou as moontlik. Gedruis uit van die huis, het ek vinnig gee die vriend'n drukkie, vinnig met vermelding van die tyd ek sal tuis wees voor wedrenne oor na my gehuur Volkswagen voertuig. My sakke band draai as ek probeer om te plaas alles in die kar, ek het vinnig stoot dit in die passasiersitplek voor die aanpassing van die spieëls en die opskrif af na my nuwe werk.

Die grys wolke rommelstrooi die lug herinner my'n baie van die huis, maar hierdie besige stad is presies wat ek nodig het om te kry weg van my klein dorpie lewe. Ry aan die linkerkant is nogal vreemd, al is, iets wat sal neem sommige gewoond raak aan.

As ek trek in die parkeerterrein ek sien dat die skool is nader aan die einde van die dag, ek hoop ek sal nie afgedank kry voor ek selfs begin. Vinnig struikel deur die kantoor deur, ek reguit my postuur en hemp voor loop na die balie en verklaar ek is die nuwe wetenskap onderwyser. Die vrou glimlag voor bel iemand, ek neem aan die skoolhoof of miskien'n ander onderwyser.

Na wag vir sowat 2 minute, die kantoor deur hard clamors oop, 'n lang man met dik lig bruin hare en'n intimiderende statuur vordering in, gee'n klein knik na die vrou voor nader my. Ek staan op en skud sy aangebied hand.

"Hallo daar, ek is Mnr Curriagh of Aric, ek is hier om jou begelei na jou klas."Sy stem het'n dik aksent aan dit, iets wat ek sal hê om te kry wat gebruik word te nou, aangesien ek woon in Skotland. Sy intimiderend houding blyk te kontras met die vriendelike glimlag hy bied.

"Plesier om jou te ontmoet Aric, ek is Saden."Ek beleefd reageer voor om hom te lei my uit die kantoor en in die gang af.

"So, jy is die nuwe wetenskap onderwyser?"Hy stemme in effense nuuskierigheid, gaan voort om te navigeer die leë sale.

"Ja, wat doen jy leer?"Ek vraag, loop vinniger om tred te hou met sy vinnige tempo.

"O my? Ek het nog altyd'n literatuur persoon."Sy reaksie veroorsaak'n klein glimlag te verskyn, is die feit dat mense hier is so mooi en verwelkoming is iets wat ek aanbid. Ons kom tot stilstand gekom na die ander oomblik van die loop.

"Wel, dit is jou klas, maar jy aangekom het'n bietjie laat."Hy het verduidelik as ons kyk na die studente te pak hul sakke. Ek vrylating van'n stil sug, natuurlik sou ek mis die hele eerste dag van my werk.

"Moenie bekommerd wees oor die vermiste jou klas is, kan jy pop in om te help met die aanhouding of verken die gronde."Aric state as hy flikker sy oë van die venster na my, ek is oor om te reageer wanneer die klok lui hard, eggo deur die leë sale voor die klaskamer deure swaai oop en studente lêer uit. Ons albei staan naby die venster om my klas totdat die sale stil sit weer, slegs'n paar studente staan rond, terwyl sommige is nou net die afwerking van oppak.

Aric beurte om te praat om my weer as sy blik draai na iets agter my, sy skielike skree verrassings my, en ek het vinnig draai om om te sien die skuldige.

'n jong seun met donker bruin hare onmiddellik breek, sy oë gaan wye by geskree, sy arm strenger sy hou om sy boek klou teen sy bors.

"Archer. Aanhouding is in die ander rigting."Aric state as hy loop tot by die student. Ek sou verwag dat enige student om senuweeagtig te wees op wat genoem word deur'n onderwyser, maar hierdie student, Archer, verskyn ronduit vreesbevange.

Voor Archer in staat is om te reageer, Aric begin om weer te praat. "Dit is die tweede keer wat jy het probeer om oor te slaan aanhouding, Archer."Gee'n effense breek as hy wag vir'n antwoord, na ontvangs van niemand hy kom uit'n sug van irritasie voor en sê, "Kom saam met my Archer."Begin om te loop terug na my, Archer sleep'n paar stappe agter met sy oë opgelei op die vloer.

"Ek is jammer om te sny jou toer kort, maar ek het te begelei hierdie student te aanhouding."Aric state as hy kyk terug na Archer.

"Heeltemal in orde Aric, omgee as ek kom met? Ek het mis my eerste dag na alles."Ek vraag, skrams by Archer, sy oë nie verskuif van die vloer die hele tyd. Aric kortliks knik sy kop voor die leiding van die manier om te aanhouding. Ek het vinnig volg, probeer om tred te hou, luister as Aric beskryf die dele van die skool wat ons deurgaan.

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Wie is hierdie persoon? Is sy die nuwe juffrou? Sy het sê sy mis haar eerste dag hier, en ons nuwe onderwyser vir die wetenskap nie in staat was om te wys.

Ek lig my kop op, my oë het op soek na haar vir'n oomblik as ek oorweeg of ek moet vra my vraag is of nie. Uiteindelik gee in te nuuskierigheid, ek vra, "Is jy die nuwe wetenskap onderwyser?"My vraag blyk te skrik hulle albei uit van hul klein praat, Mnr Curraigh nou stil as ek wag op haar antwoord. Sy draai na my toe en bied'n vriendelike glimlag voor te reageer, "Ja, dit is my, jy kan my bel Mev Monroe."Haar reaksie is mooi maar kort, en haar stem gelyk te wankel effens toe sy sê haar laaste naam, wat veroorsaak dat my kop te kantel ooit so effens in verwarring by haar onwilligheid om te praat haar laaste naam.

"Dit is lekker om jou te ontmoet Mev Monroe, my naam is Archer."Ek het reageer, my stem skynbaar meer selfversekerd en harder as my normale toon, al het ek skaars gee dit'n gedagte. Vir die tyd wat oorgebly het van die loop te aanhouding, ek het dit praat met Mev Monroe, ek weet nie hoekom nie, maar sy was makliker om te praat met, dit kon gewees het van haar nie-intimiderend houding en hoogte is, of moontlik dat sy herinner my aan my ma, beide van wat is geloofwaardig.

Ons praat oor die boek was ek hou wanneer Mnr Curraigh kom tot'n stilstand, die kamer wat aanhouding is gehou in wat reg is in die voorkant van ons. Ek reik uit na gryp die handvatsel, 'n oomblik vergeet oor my pols besering totdat ek die vrylating van'n grunt van pyn, onmiddellik trek my pols terug en hou dit teen my bors as die harde aangrypende gevoel dat vloede my stelsel, wat my herinner van gister.

Beide Mnr Curraigh en Mev Monroe lyk geskok oor my skielike uitbarsting van pyn, Mev Monroe is oor om iets te sê maar ek het geen tyd om te dink, struikel agteruit ek draai effens en hardloop af. Ek gaan na die enigste plek waar ek veilig voel, Bingham se Dam, of Swan Dam as my ma gebruik om te sê, net om te onthou wat veroorsaak dat'n golf van angs te vee deur my liggaam, al hierdie dinge wat gebeur is te oorweldigend. Eers het ek verloor my ma en suster in'n motor-ongeluk, dan is my stap-pa(wat reeds nie van my hou nie) blameer my vir dit, en nou het ek'n onderwyser wat herinner my presies van my ma, ek weet eenvoudig nie hoe ek moet voel of te reageer op hierdie situasies nie. Ek is so vasgevang in hierdie produktiewe gedagtes en seer pyn wat ek versuim om te hoor die voetstappe nader kom. Dit was die skielike hand op my skouer wat veroorsaak het dat my om te snak in verrassing op die teenwoordigheid van'n ander persoon. Vinnig draai my kop het ek verwag om te sien'n woedende Mnr Curraigh of dalk Alec, maar ek is in plaas ontmoet deur Mev Monroe se hartseer glimlag as sy crouches langs my. Om uit te reik haar hand vir my pols ek wankel weg, maar na nog'n tweede toelaat dat haar om te sien my pols, ignoreer die moontlike gevolg dat sy dalk die vraag hoe ek volgehoue hierdie besering.

Dit was die effense verbreding van haar oë wat veroorsaak het dat my om te volg haar blik, ek verkies om nooit kyk na my beserings, so sien my pols al geswel en gekneus oorsake my oë te verbreed sowel. Sy het liggies raak aan my pols en ek het dadelik trek weg, die pyn skroei deur my arm. Sy lyk om daar te sit in'n oomblik van denke, as al oorweeg wat sy moet sê.

"Archer. Hoe het dit gebeur?"Daar was dit, die een ding wat ek nie wil hê om te hoor. Ek skud my kop en kyk weg, nou eers besef dat'n paar trane het gestroom my gesig af, vinnig vee hulle met my vry hand. Ek hoor nie'n reaksie op my weiering so ek kyk terug, sien Mev Monroe trane terug te hou as goed, al is die rede waarom, weet ek nie. Skud haar kop, sy stoot haarself af van die vloer, en bereik'n hand vir my, wat ek stadig neem. Nou staan ek stof myself af met my goeie hand, losweg hou my rugsak as ek wag op haar vrae.

Al wat sy doen is, skynbaar skud haar kop na haarself, voor beduie vir my om haar te volg. Sy lei my terug na die skool, nooit praat of loer na my, net staar vorentoe, byna emptily. Sy neem my na die mediese kamer en vertel my om te wag by die deur as sy loop weg om te gesels met'n verpleegster. Ek wonder wat sy sê, het sy vermoed dat my stap-pa het hierdie beserings? Of dink sy nog'n student het dit gedoen vir my? Moet ek net hardloop terwyl ek nog steeds die kans? My gedagtes is skielik gestop as beide Mev Monroe en die suster loop oor na my, my senuweeagtigheid skop in op'n ander persoon nou teenwoordig.

Ek probeer om nie aandag te gee aan die flare-ups van pyn as die suster toegedraai my pols in'n ys-sak, die ysige koue maak my bewe as die weer buite was reeds koud. Na'n paar minute van die versiersuiker my pols sy bring'n kompressie verband, snoesige wikkel my pols en hand, die pyn verminder nie, maar handhaaf'n bestendige pyn wat rondom my hele arm. Toe sy klaar sy gee my instruksies om te doen elke dag, en'n nota vir die klas om te sien as dit was my die skryf van die hand.

Loop oor na die deur, ek spot Mev Monroe wag daar, haar vriendelike glimlag vervang deur'n ernstige en streng kyk, een wat maak my voetstappe'n bietjie meer huiwerig. Ons verlaat die med kamer, en loop uit in die stil, verlate gang, haar gesig nog steeds ernstig as ons beide stop.

"Hoe het jy daardie besering Archer."Dit was nie'n vraag nie, maar iets wat aangedring het op'n antwoord, die een wat ek was baie huiwerig om te gee. Hengel my gesig weg van haar ek skud my kop " nee " weer, wil nie om haar te vertel die waarheid, my gedagtes blêrende dat dit sou lei tot meer pyn as goed, dat selfs indien sy het glo my, niemand anders sou.

"Archer, as jy nie vertel my, dan sal ek om jou te vertel die kantoor te bel jou pa."Sê sy, haar stem verloor sommige van dit is streng as sy pogings om my te kry om te antwoord.

Hoor haar bel Alec my pa veroorsaak dat al hierdie gevoelens om net ontplof, my woede vloei vrylik, en ek kan nie help nie, maar reageer chaoties, "HY IS NIE MY PA!"My skree echos af in die gang, die stilte het in sy wakker is ongemaklik, al die woede-gedrewe vertroue vinnig laat my lyf as ek uitasem. Sy is nie dom nie, sy gaan om uit te vind wat gaan aan, ek sal geneem word weg van my huis, die laaste plek wat herinner my van die ma en my suster.

Haar houding blyk te versterk na die aanhoor van my reaksie, ek kan net hoop sy sal nie kwaad wees saam met my uitbarsting.

"Ek is net gaan om te vra jy een meer tyd. Wat het dit gedoen."Haar stem was doodse stilte, die tweede sin om hard uiteengesit en laat geen ruimte vir verskonings. Ek het uiteindelik die gesig van haar, maar my kop is nog steeds verlaag, my oë flikker tot haar elke so dikwels as wat ek dink wat ek gaan sê.

"....Alec."My stem feitlik'n fluister, alhoewel ek weet sy het dit gehoor, en die wete dat iemand anders is bewus van hierdie geheim nie net veroorsaak dat my om te voel... kwesbaar.