Unraveled Ch.2: Unhappy Ellie

Unraveled Ch.2: Unhappy Ellie

Ch.1 Ch.3

It's my first day back to work in a week since I was called out on a family issue back in Scotland, and luckily I had a week of vacation days stored up. Ellie has been out too on a family vacation to Florida, and we decided to meet up and go to work together.

Walking down the sidewalk, I ran into her and Joe pushing around little Fred with Tom walking alongside them, talking with a joyful Mark. As soon as Ellie saw me her smile grew even wider.

"ELS!!!!!"

"ELLIE!!!"

Ellie quickly handed the stroller over to Joe before tackling me in a hug, nearly squeezing the life out of me as I returned the favor to her. We finally separated after a few more seconds of hugging, smiling widely at each other before I looked over to greet her family.

"Hello Joe, Tom, little Freddy!" I exclaimed, my Scottish accent thicker than normal due to my visit back to Scotland. I lean down to tickle Fred, his laughs of glee ringing through the crisp morning air, helping to renew my spirits.

"Hello Els, are you coming to sports day with us?" Joe questioned as we recommence walking, the stroller being returned to Ellie as he pulls Tom into his side to ruffle his hair.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss seeing my favorite godson play." I state as I ruffle Tom's hair as well. Him laughing, pushing my hand away before hugging me quickly.

"So Miller, first day back at work, how do you feel?" I question sarcastically, falling in step next to the family as they continue along.

"Honestly Els, we've known each other for almost a year and you still call me Miller sometimes." Ellie states in fake annoyance, having grown accustomed to my habit.

"I know Ellie, but it's a habit, just think of it as my nickname for you." I respond honestly, frowning slightly as I briefly think back to who gave me this habit.

"Fine. I'm super excited to be back, because they said I would have the D.I. job, so I can't wait!! How about you, CARLISLE. I know you just got back from a week off, so how are you feeling?" Ellie smirks as she mocked me using last names.

I let out a slight huff at her, "I'm feeling the same as always, just can't wait to get back to work. Being with my family is overwhelming sometimes."

"Hope your family is doing alright... How about you come with me to drop the kids off and then we can go to work together." Ellie smiles as she looks at her family quickly.

I smile back and nod in agreement.

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"Morning! Hi! Hiya, morning! Hi, I'm back!" Ellie exclaims jubilantly in her happy personality, everyone clapping as they welcome her back. I simply lean against the counter of the small kitchen area with a small smile as I watch her enjoy herself and give gifts to some people. Everyone always loves Ellie's warm and welcoming personality.

Stuck in my thoughts, the sounds and the applause starts to fade into background noise, my skin beginning to sweat slightly and my eyes shuttering closed. I quickly get up and walk as calmly and casually as possible, slipping out the door and rushing into the bathroom, locking the main door after assuring that it's empty. My memories are fighting me, forcing me to relive the case that caused all these problems, all the welcoming and cheering that mixed together at Ellie's return sounded far too similar to the sound of rushing water. It didn't help that on my visit to my family they brought up that dreadful case.

I try to calm my quick breathing, desperately attempting to think of something else but the only image in my head is of my friend and I looking into the water and him immediately rushing in with myself following soon after, watching him nearly drown before dragging him and the body out of the water. I can still feel the icy water encompassing my body, my lungs being suffocated by water as I allowed myself to be pushed under so that I could push my friend up.

I almost stumble to the floor, grasping onto the counter for stability as I try to steady my breathing, slowly pulling myself up and patting my face with wet paper towels before looking at my reflection and seeing a tired and lonely person.

Ever since I was called out to my family the flashbacks have increased and have been stronger than usual. I have been avoiding my family because they remind me of the case and of my childhood best friend; the sudden rush of having to see them, and then being forced back into a life of crime solving was a little much. But I have to pull myself back together, this is Ellie's day after all, she's going to get the job she wanted, and I can't trouble her with my stupid issues.

Putting on a facade I walk out of the bathroom, heading back to the room to see it quieting down. I stride over to Anna and quickly ask, "Hey Anna, do you know where Ellie went?" My eyes scanning over the room to see no sign of her jubilant self.

"Oh yes Els, she just got called in by the head, most likely telling her the bad news right now."

"Alright." I say about to walk off to the office before immediately stopping as I comprehend what she said.

"What do you mean 'bad news'?" I question, the confusion overflowing my voice as I look at Anna. Her face showed slight surprise before remembering I was gone. I don't wait for a response, rushing over to the office only to run into a very unhappy Ellie.

"Can you believe this Els! They gave my job to someone else! And a man at that!" Ellie whisper-shouted at me as she dragged me outside of the station. Her anger was overflowing, so I tried to calm her down, but my attempts were futile.

"And not only a man, but one with a case so bad that it's going to screw our station over!" She exclaimed as she stomped her foot in contempt.

"Alright, easy Ellie, I had no idea this was going to happen and it's awful, but let's evaluate the situation. If he's as bad a D.I. as you say then you will get his job, if he's a good D.I. then we should try and learn from his experience. I know you may not like it, but you haven't experienced a lot in this station. I've been through homicides and rapes on a daily basis, but the worst you get out here are misdemeanors. So let's calm down." I explain firmly as I grasp her shoulders, making her look at me. She lets out a slight huff of irritation, knowing that I'm right in that she does lack some experience to be a D.I.

"Fine, let's just go back inside and see how it goes." She mutters before trudging back inside. I can tell she's going to definitely hold a grudge against this new D.I., and it's going to be a new experience, because an angry Ellie has never been seen so far.

Ch.1 Ch.3

Realitet Pakuptim(Albanian)

Ishte herët të enjten në mëngjes kur ajo mori lajmin e tmerrshëm se burri i saj kishte vdekur.

Ajo kishte pyetur veten pse ai nuk u kthye në shtëpi natën e kaluar, edhe duke pritur nga telefoni, përfundimisht duke e thirrur atë por kurrë nuk mori një përgjigje.

Ajo sapo kishte ecur me femijet E saj, Liseta dhe Alonso, ne rrugen e tyre te gjate per ne autobusin e shkolles ne pritje, duke pershendetur me kujdes teksa ajo iku me zhurme, duke e lene ate te buzeqeshte dhe te bjere me dore teksa autobusi nuk shihej. Duke u kthyer në shtëpi ajo kuptoi se zogjtë ishin veçanërisht të qetë, në mënyrë jo normale kështu, kjo e bëri heshtjen të parehatshme pasi ajo ishte e bllokuar me mendimet e saj të paprera; as era kërcitëse gjethet e rënë nuk ishte aq e zhurmshme sa zakonisht. Ajo i zbuti flokët e saj gërsheta të zeza anash përpara se të tërhiqte pa pushim në mëngët e pulovrës së saj blu-gri, duke i mbështjellur fort krahët rreth trupit të saj ndërsa ajo filloi të kthehej në shtëpi, duke dëgjuar nga afër kërcitjen nën këpucët e saj, mendja e saj ende ende ende ende po bredh në konfuzion se ku ishte burri i Saj, Rykeri. Disa hapa larg verandës së saj, ajo e ngadalësoi duke ecur ndërsa dëgjoi tingullin e një makine, hapat e saj u lëkundën pak ndërsa ajo u kthye, duke zbuluar modelin e zi e të bardhë të Belmontit, Makinën e policisë Së Ohajos që po i vinte drejt saj. Shkëlqimi kundër xhamit të përparmë nga qielli gri e bëri të pamundur për të parë se kush po i jepte makinës, duke e lënë të pasigurt nëse do të ndjehet i gëzuar apo i shqetësuar me pamjen e papritur.

Sa më afër i afrohej aq më shpejt rrahja e zemrës së saj, duke marrë frymë thellë ndërsa ajo shikonte makinën të tërhiqej pak metra larg. Duart e saj në mënyrë të pandërgjegjshme duke u përdredhur me njëri-tjetrin ndërsa ajo priti që dera e makinës të hapej, papritmas të ndihej e parehatshme edhe pse ishte mjaft ftohtë. Ajo i dinte rreziqet që i kishte burri i saj për shkak të punës së tij, dhe e dinte se ai mund të plagosej apo vritej në çdo thirrje, por asgjë nuk do ta përgatiste atë për vështrimin e dëshpëruar të oficerëve teksa dilte nga makina.

Rykeri ishte duke thirrur me partnerin e tij për një grabitje dhe hyrje në një zonë banimi, krimineli kishte dalë nga mbrapa dhe e kapi shtëpinë për t'u afruar pas tyre ndërsa hynin nga dera e shkatërruar, duke qëlluar të dy herë prapa, para se të vraponin. Policia po e kërkonte tani atë, por ka vetëm dy dëshmitarë, një që e pa atë ndërsa filloi të hapte derën e tyre dhe një komshi që pa se çfarë po ndodhte dhe thirri policinë.

Siç e shpjegoi oficeri se çfarë i ndodhi mendjes së saj u zbraz, zhurma tashmë e zhdukur e pyllit plotësisht dhe se nxehtësia e parehatshme u zhduk papritur, duke e lënë trupin e saj në vend të kësaj të ndjehej bosh. Ajo shpejt e gjeti veten të detyruar të kthehet në realitet kur oficeri kishte arritur të prekte shpatullën e saj, nuk ishte e pasjellshme apo e padëshirueshme, pasi ky oficer ishte shok i mirë me veten dhe Rykerin, por papritur dhe papritur kontakti i papritur e tronditi aq sa t'ia merrte shpatullën dhe të bënte një hap mbrapa. Dhe, ja, ai u tërhoq prej krahut të vet, e shikimi i tij u ul poshtë në dysheme, e ajo filloi të pendohet, sikurse ajo e kuptoi se ka vepruar.

Më në fund tha, "Më vjen keq Carter, ndjehem pak i tronditur për momentin."Zëri i saj me trimëri të qetë, një belbëzim i vogël ndërsa përpiqet të kuptojë dhe të kontrollojë të gjitha emocionet që kalojnë përmes saj. Një pamje mirkuptimi lahet në fytyrën e tij para se t'i tund kokën solemnisht dhe të kthehet në makinë, "Lamtumirë E Trishtuar."Carter foli, duke ofruar një buzëqeshje të shkurtër, të trishtuar para se të hynte në makinën e tij dhe të largohej.

Kishte shumë mendime që nxitonin në kokën e Sadenit, të gjitha lajmet nuk e goditën ende plotësisht. Me mendjen e saj duke garuar ajo u fut ngadalë në kabinën e saj në shtëpi, duke mbyllur derën para se të pushonte ballin e saj ashpër kundër drurit të ngjyrosur, duke i dhënë vetes një moment paqeje para se të largohej dhe të shkonte në telefon për të bërë disa telefonata.

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Shtëpia është e errët, duke dhënë një aureolë shqetësuese dhe e lëvizur; dielli nuk ka lindur ende dhe nuk ka drita pranë, megjithatë këtu është një djalë me uniformën e shkollës dhe çantën e tij në heshtje duke mbyllur derën e përparme. Ai fillon të largohet nga shtëpia e tij shpejt, atmosfera e shqetësuar që e rrethon atë ngadalë duke u larguar nga larg sa më larg, shpatullat e tensionuara dhe duke u pakësuar në një paranojë të lehtë.

Ai ka një shenjë mbi sy, ngjyra e kuqe që e bën të qartë kundër lëkurës së tij të zbehtë. Ai mori këtë shenjë në të njëjtën kohë që humbi nënën dhe gjysmë motrën e tij, përplasja me makinë ishte brutale, vetëm ai dhe një nga pasagjerët e tjerë që kishin mbijetuar.

Ai i mban sytë larg nga dritat e verbëra që kalojnë çdo herë kur ai ecën në trotuar, paranoja e tij duke u zhdukur sa më afër Pellgut Të Bingham-it. Ai gjen një vend larg rrugës, duke vënë çantën e tij poshtë ndërsa sheh mjellmat dhe rosat e përgjumura. Një buzëqeshje e vogël nderon tiparet e tij siç e mban mend kur ai dhe nëna E tij, Liz, vinin këtu herët në mëngjes për të folur dhe parë lindjen e diellit para shkollës; buzëqeshja e tij zhdukej sa më shpejt që kishte arritur, kur e kuptoi se mund të vinte vetëm këtu tani. Ai gjithmonë mund t'i kërkonte njerkut Të Tij Alek të vinte me të, por kishte frikë nga çdo përgjigje që Dha Aleku, veçanërisht tani që ai ishte i vetmi që i mbijetoi përplasjes së makinës.

Në një përpjekje për të shkundur mendimet e tij nga e kaluara ai shikon prapa tek mjellmat, admiron bukurinë e tyre në ujin e errët. Disa rrezet e para të diellit fillojnë të shkëlqejnë në qiellin e zbehtë, një fllad i lehtë që e bën atë të dridhet pasi ai nuk ka xhaketë uniforme që kushton para shtesë. Ndërkohë që ai ulet dhe përkulet kundër një peme ai e shuan dhimbjen që i ndez në shpinë para se ta shkundte dhe ta tërhiqte çantën drejt tij, duke zbërthyer metalin ngrirës dhe duke u afruar, duke tërhequr një dosje që përmban detyra shtëpie të pambaruara.; shumë prej tyre ishin rrënuar e lotë, edhe pse ai i mbante në dosje. Duke liruar një psherëtimë të lodhur dhe të dëshpëruar, ai filloi të punonte, duke filluar me emrin e tij, 'Arçer Carlisle', duart e tij të ftohta po e bëjnë më të vështirë për të shkruar dhe për të parë dritat e rëndimit nëpër sytë e tij, ndërsa ai e di se nuk do t'i bëjë të gjitha këto detyra shtëpie përpara shkollës; frikë mbushjes së tij me mendimin për t'i treguar Alekut për klasën e keqe edhe pse detyra e tij të pambaruara dhe të shqyera ishte faji I Alekut. Me një psherëtimë tjetër ai u kthye në punë, duke u përpjekur për të përfunduar sa më shpejt dhe sa më saktë të jetë e mundur.

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Ka kaluar një javë që kur më thanë për vdekjen e tij, e dija që nuk mund të rrija në Shtëpinë tonë të rehatshme Të Ohajos, veçanërisht që kur Rykeri e ndërtoi atë; vetëm se duke hyrë nga dera më bëri të vjellë duke e ditur se nuk do ta shoh më kurrë.

Funerali ishte dje pasdite... Fustani i zi që kisha veshur tani është një grumbull hiri gri në zjarr. Vajza Ime Liseta shkoi me mua, ishte një ditë me erë me një spërkatje shiu të hedhur në tokë jashtë; duket se bota madje po vajtonte për humbjen, por kjo është ndoshta vetëm unë që po i vë gjërat e thjeshta. Djali Im Alonso e mori vdekjen e babait te tij shume fort, e di se sa afer ishin, dhe duke pare djalin tim duke qajtur beri nje lot permes fasadës time te fuqise, por me duhej ta fshija shpejt teksa perqafoja djalin tim duke qajtur. E qara e tij zgjati për një orë, Liseta filloi të qante, gjithashtu kur pa formën që dridhej Nga e imja. Atë natë ndenja me ta në dhomën e tyre, ulur në dysheme në mes dy shtretërve të tyre, një dorë është kapur në secilën nga të miat siç u thashë histori për t'i joshur ata për të fjetur. Kur e dija që ata ishin në gjumë, vazhdova t'i mbaja duart e tyre, duke u anuar kokën time pas murit të drurit teksa shikoja lart në tavan, drita nga hëna duke krijuar hijet e degëve të pemëve në murin e kundërt. Thjesht u ula aty, duke menduar për telefonatat që bëra ditën që mora lajmet.; deri javën tjetër, ajo që ka mbetur nga familja ime do të jetë në vilën Tonë Skoceze, larg nga këtu, larg tij.

Akoma duhet t'u them fëmijëve, nuk jam i sigurt si t'u them që po largohemi, nga gjithçka që na kujton babain e tyre. Unë vetëm mund të shpresoj se ata nuk do të përbuzë mua për këtë vendim, por vetëm duke qëndruar në këtë shtëpi shkakton mendjen time për të enden në një drejtim unë nuk do të lejojë veten për të shkuar në.

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Zilja bie me zë të lartë ndërsa unë ngutem në derën e mbylljes së klasës sime, duke shikuar në dhomë unë i shoh të gjithë të ulur dhe mësuesi duke më shikuar me vëmendje. Duke ulur vështrimin tim, shtroj detyrat e shtëpisë dhe kthej faqet e përfunduara në kosh para se të kaloj në tavolinën e mësuesit tim për të arritur sediljen time, duke shmangur vështrimin e tij dhe të gjithë të tjerëve gjatë gjithë kohës.

E di që nuk duhet të trembem nga mësuesit e mi, Por Z. Currai ka të njëjtin zë të ashpër si Aleku, dhe nuk mund të ndihmoj por të jem i shqetësuar sa herë që shkel në klasën e tij; rregullat e tij strikte dhe frikësuese nuk më ndihmojnë saktësisht kur përpiqem të bëj dallimin me të dy.

Z. Currai po më shikon nga kompjuteri i tij, unë gëlltis nervozisht dhe ndaj pak në sediljen time ndërsa shikoj poshtë në letrën që kam vendosur me delikatesë mbi tavolinën time. Biseda e qetë e klasës kishte rifilluar disa momente më parë, por u ndal shpejt kur Z.Currai shtyu figurën e tij të anuar nga tavolina e tij dhe eci në kohën e parë të klasës.

"Z. Carlisle, dëshiron t'i shpjegosh klasës pse u vonove? Përsëri."Dënimi i tij i parë mospëlqyes kundërshtoi shumë fjalimin e tij të ashpër 'përsëri'. Në mënyrë të pandërgjegjshme unë e ul kokën time si klasa është e heshtur, klasa të tjera mund të qeshin, por ata nuk e dinë për të bërë shaka në këtë klasë.

E tund kokën ' jo ' i besoj plotësisht zërit tim për t'iu përgjigjur pa belbëzuar.

"Nuk të dëgjoj, Arçer. Mund t'ia shpjegosh klasës pse u vonove."Zëri i tij i mprehtë, i theksuar ra kundër heshtjes dhe nuk la vend për të shmangur pyetjen e tij. E di që po më shikon teksa pret përgjigjen e tij. Më në fund e shikoj atë, duke u përgjigjur qetësisht ndërsa shikimi im dridhet vazhdimisht midis tij dhe tavanit.

"Fjeta shumë, zotëri, nuk do të lejoj që të ndodhë përsëri."U përpoqa të prezantoja një fytyrë të qetë për ta ndaluar atë që të më thërrasë përsëri, mendja ime brenda po shtien me mendime në se ai do të pranojë justifikimin apo jo. Një e dytë kalon para se ai të kthehet në tabelën e bardhë dhe të fillojë të shkruaj, të gjithë shpejt kopjojnë atë poshtë në fletoret e tyre, biseda duket se është harruar. Mendimi i shqetësimit vazhdoi të më acaronte në kokë se ai e dinte se justifikimi im ishte i rremë, por nuk kisha kohë për të dhënë atë ndonjë spidim pasi unë isha tashmë duke mbetur pas shënimeve, dhe lëndimi im i fundit i dorës nuk do të përfitonte as nga unë.

Klasa përfundoi më në fund, shumica e njerëzve ishin paketuar dhe po prisnin tek dera për zilen, vetëm pak njerëz ishin ulur në tavolinat e tyre. I vë detyrat e shtëpisë në dosjen e tyre, dhe e vendos bllokun tim në çantën time. E arrij dosjen kur një dorë tjetër e kap në fillim, një dorë që nuk i takon asnjë studenti. I mbaj sytë lart para se të shikoj poshtë në tavolinë, Ishte Z. Currai ai që po mbante dosjen e detyrave të shtëpisë, ai po anonte mbi tavolinë ndërsa po kalonte nëpërmjet dosjes së hapur tani.

"E dini, organizata dhe kujdesi juaj nuk rritet kur ju ktheheni në letra të shqyera."Ai pohon se ndërsa mbyll ngadalë dosjen, duke e mbajtur atë jashtë për mua që ta marr, gjë që e ndjek shpejt, duke e vendosur atë në çantën time.

"Do të më thuash arsyen e vërtetë pse duket gjithmonë se je vonuar?"Z. Curraig pyetje, zëri i tij normalisht i zhurmshëm dhe i ashpër tani është më i qetë dhe që përmban një aluzion shqetësimi. Kanë kaluar disa momente dhe duhet të përgjigjem kur të zërojë.,

"Arçer, nëse ke një arsye të vërtetë se pse je vonë, e kuptoj, por nuk mund t'i pranoj më këto justifikime të rreme. Kjo është hera e 10-të që je vonuar. Nëse nuk mund të më japësh një arsye të vërtetë atëherë më duhet të të dënoj."Zëri i tij nuk ishte kurrë shumë i rreptë apo i ashpër gjatë dënimit, duke patur më shumë një ton paralajmërues ndaj tij, por e gjitha që mund të grumbulloj është të tund kokën ngadalë' jo ' ndërsa shikoj lart për të takuar vështrimin e tij. Z. Curraig thjesht pret një sekondë para se të lëshojë një psherëtimë të eksperuar dhe të largohet nga tavolina.

"Mos u vono për paraburgim Z. Carlisle."Është e vetmja gjë që thotë ai para se të kthehet në tavolinën e tij, zilja e ziles dhe studentët që nxitojnë të dalin nga dera, unë ndjek menjëherë që të mos vonohem në mësimin tim të ardhshëm. Mendimet e mia për pjesën tjetër të ditës janë të mjegulluara se si Do të reagojë Aleku kur të kthehem vonë në shtëpi, si do të reagojë kur t'i them se kam dënim përsëri. Pellgjet e tmerrshme në gjoksin tim, e bëjnë të ndihen të shtrënguara dhe ajri mbytet ndërsa unë e kaloj ditën.

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Ditën e parë në shtëpinë tonë të re, ishte një vilë që e kishin prindërit e mi dhe unë e trashëgova. Larg Nga Ohajo, larg Nga Rykeri, Deri në Glasgou, Skoci, i vendosur në një zonë të mirë me fushat e gjelbëra dhe një mur guri që e rrethon me kujdes.

Liseta dhe Alonso e kishin marre levizjen me mire se sa e prisja, duket se ata donin te largoheshin aq sa une. Kisha thirrur përpara që të sigurohesha që vila ishte gati kur mbërritëm, dhe një mik i prindërve të mi do të vinte të shikonte fëmijët e mi që kur më duhet të shkoj në punën time sa më shpt të jetë e mundur. Duke vrapuar nga shtëpia, i jap një përqafim shokut, shpejt duke deklaruar se do të jem në shtëpi para se të garoj tek makina Ime Me qira Volksvagen. Lidhëset e çantave që përdredhin teksa përpiqem të vendos gjithçka në makinë, shpejt e fus në ndenjësen e pasagjerit para se të rregulloj pasqyrat dhe të nisem për në punën time të re.

Retë gri të shpërndara në qiell më kujtojnë shumë shtëpi, por ky qytet i zënë është pikërisht ajo që unë kam nevojë për të marrë larg nga jeta ime e vogël e qytetit. Të ngasësh në anën e majtë është shumë e çuditshme, diçka që do të mësohej me të.

Kur hyra në parking vura re se shkolla është afër fundit të ditës, shpresoj të mos më pushojnë as para se të filloj. Shpejt duke dalë nga dera e zyrës, rregulloj qëndrimin dhe këmishën para se të shkoj në tavolinë dhe të pohoj se jam mësuesi i ri i shkencës. Gruaja buzëqesh para se t'i telefonojë dikujt, mendoj drejtori ose ndoshta një mësues tjetër.

Pas pritjes për rreth 2 minuta, dera e zyrës hapet me zë të lartë, një njeri i gjatë me flokë të trashë ngjyrë kafe dhe një shtat frikësues futet brenda, duke i dhënë një tundje të vogël gruas para se të më afrohet mua. Ngrihem dhe i jap dorën e ofruar.

"Përshëndetje, Unë jam Z. Curriagh ose Aric, jam këtu për t'ju shoqëruar në klasën tuaj."Zëri i tij ka një theks të trashë për të, diçka që do të më duhet të mësohem gjithashtu tani që kur jetoj në Skoci. Qëndrimi i tij frikësues duket se kontraston me buzëqeshjen miqësore që ofron ai.

"Gëzohem Që të njoha Ariç, Jam i Trishtuar."Unë me edukatë përgjigjem përpara se ai të më nxjerrë nga zyra dhe poshtë korridorit.

"Pra, ti je mësuesi i ri i shkencës?"Ai shpreh kureshtje të vogël, duke vazhduar të lundrojë në sallat bosh.

"Po, çfarë mëson?"Unë vë në dyshim, duke ecur më shpejt për të mbajtur ritmin e tij të mprehtë.

"Oh mua? Unë gjithmonë kam qenë një person letërsie."Reagimi i tij bën që të duket një buzëqeshje e vogël, fakti se njerëzit këtu janë kaq të mirë dhe mikpritës është diçka që unë e adhuroj. Ne kemi ardhur në një ndalesë pas një tjetër momenti të ecjes.

"Epo, kjo është klasa jote, edhe pse erdhe pak vonë."Ai shpjegon ndërsa ne shohim studentët që paketojnë çantat e tyre. Nëse lëshoj një psherëtimë të qetë, sigurisht që do të më mungonte e gjithë dita e parë e punës sime.

"Mos u shqetësoni për humbjen e klasës tuaj, ju mund të vini për të ndihmuar me paraburgimin ose për të eksploruar terrenin."Ariç pohon se ndërsa ai hedh sytë nga dritarja tek unë, unë do të përgjigjem kur zilja të bjerë me zë të lartë, duke i bërë jehonë përmes sallave bosh përpara se dyert e klasës të hapen dhe studentët të dalin. Ne të dy qëndrojmë pranë dritares deri në klasën time të qetë përsëri, vetëm disa studentë qëndrojnë rreth, ndërsa disa janë vetëm duke përfunduar paketimin.

Ariç kthehet të më flasë përsëri kur shikimi i tij kthehet pas meje, britma e tij e papritur më befason, dhe shpejt kthehem të shoh fajtorin.

Një djalë i ri me flokë të errët ngjyrë kafe menjëherë ndalon, sytë e tij shkojnë gjerë nga të bërtiturat, krahun e tij shtrënguar mbi librin e tij të shtrënguar në gjoksin e tij.

"Arçer. Dënimi është në drejtimin tjetër."Ariç pohon ndërsa shkon tek studenti. Do të prisja që çdo student të ishte nervoz që të thirrej nga një mësues, por ky student, Arçer, u duk i tmerruar plotësisht.

Para Se Arçeri të mund të përgjigjet, Ariç fillon të flasë përsëri. "Kjo është hera e dytë që po përpiqesh të kapërcesh paraburgimin, Arçer."Duke dhënë një pushim të vogël ndërsa ai pret për një përgjigje, pasi nuk ka marrë asnjë, ai lëshoi një psherëtimë irritimi para se të deklaronte," Eja me Mua Arçer."Duke filluar të më kthehet pas, Arçer, duke ndjekur disa hapa prapa me sytë e tij të stërvitur në dysheme.

"Më vjen keq që e shkurtova turneun tuaj, por më duhet ta shoqëroj këtë student në paraburgim."Ariç thotë se ai shikon Prapa Arçerit.

"Mjaft mirë Ariç, të vjen keq nëse vij me ty? E humba ditën time të parë pas së gjithash."Unë pyes, duke i vështruar Arçer, sytë e tij nuk kanë lëvizur nga dyshemeja gjatë gjithë kohës. Ariç shkurtimisht e tund kokën para se të çojë në paraburgim. Unë shpejt ndjek, duke u përpjekur për të mbajtur lart, duke dëgjuar si Aric përshkruan pjesët e shkollës që ne kalojmë nëpër.

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Kush është ky person? A është ajo mësuesi i ri? Ajo tha se e humbi ditën e parë këtu, dhe mësuesi ynë i ri për shkencën nuk ishte në gjendje të vinte.

Ngre kokën lart, sytë e mi duke e parë atë për një moment dhe mendoj nëse duhet të pyes apo jo. Më në fund duke i dhënë kuriozitetit, pyes, "a jeni ju mësuesi i ri i shkencës?"Çështja ime duket se i tremb ata të dy nga biseda e tyre e vogël, Z. Currai tani i heshtur ndërsa pres reagimin e saj. Ajo kthehet tek unë dhe ofron një buzëqeshje miqësore para se të përgjigjet, "po, ky jam Unë, Ju mund të më thërrisni Znj Monroe."Reagimi i saj është i këndshëm por i shkurtër dhe zëri i saj u duk të lëkundej pak kur tha mbiemrin e saj, duke e bërë kokën time të përkulet kaq pak në konfuzion ndaj hezitimit të saj për të folur mbiemrin e saj.

"Gëzohem Që ju njoh Znj. Monro, unë quhem Arçer."Unë përgjigjem, zëri im duket më i sigurt dhe më i fortë se toni im normal, ndonse mezi e mendoj atë. Për çfarë kohe ka mbetur nga shëtitja deri në dënim, e kalova duke folur me Znj Monroe, nuk e di pse, por ajo dukej e lehtë për të folur me të, mund të kishte qenë nga qëndrimi dhe lartësia e saj jo frikësuese, ose ndoshta që ajo të më kujtonte nënën time, të dy të cilat janë të besueshme.

Po flisnim për librin që po mbaja kur Z.Currai u ndal, dhoma e paraburgimit mbahet përpara nesh. E kap dorën, e harroj menjëherë dëmtimin e dorës, derisa të çliroj një hungërimë dhimbje, menjëherë duke e tërhequr kyçin e dorës dhe duke e mbajtur në kraharor si agoni e ashpër që përmbyt sistemin tim, duke më kujtuar të djeshmen.

Z. Curraigh dhe Znj Monroe duken të tronditur nga shpërthimi im i papritur i dhimbjes, Znj Monroe është gati për të thënë diçka, por unë nuk kam kohë të mendoj, duke u penguar mbrapsht unë kthehem pak dhe iki. Unë shkoj në vendin e vetëm ku ndihem i sigurt, Pellgu I Bingamit, apo Pellgu I Mjellmave siç thoshte nëna ime; vetëm duke kujtuar se shkakton një valë ankthimi për të kaluar përmes trupit tim, të gjitha këto gjëra që vazhdojnë të ndodhin janë shumë dërrmuese. Në fillim humbas nënën dhe motrën në një aksident me makinë, pastaj njerku im(i cili tashmë nuk më pëlqeu) më fajëson mua për këtë, dhe tani kam një mësues që më kujton saktësisht nënën time, thjesht nuk e di se si duhet të ndjehem ose të përgjigjem për këto situata më. Jam kaq i zënë me këto mendime pjellore dhe dhimbje, saqë nuk i dëgjoj hapat që po më afrohen. Ishte dora e papritur në supin tim ajo që më bëri të gulçoja në prani të një personi tjetër. Shpejt po e kthej kokën, pres të shoh Z. Curraig ose ndoshta Alek, por në vend të kësaj jam takuar nga buzëqeshja e trishtuar E Znj Monroe ndërsa ajo strukej pranë meje. Duke kapur dorën e saj për kyçin tim të dorës, unë përkulem, por pas një sekonde tjetër e lejoj të shohë kyçin tim, duke injoruar pasojat e mundshme që ajo të dyshonte se si e kam duruar këtë plagë.

Ishte një zgjerim i vogël i syve të saj që më bëri të ndiqja vështrimin e saj, zgjodha të mos shikoja kurrë plagët e mia, kështu që pashë kyçin tim të fryrë dhe të nxirë sytë e mi për tu zgjeruar. Ajo prek lehtë kyçin tim të dorës dhe unë menjëherë largohem, dhimbja përvëluese në krahun tim. Ajo duket të ulet aty në një moment mendimi, sikur po mendon atë që duhet të thotë.

"Arçer. Si ndodhi kjo?"Ja ku ishte, e vetmja gjë që nuk doja të dëgjoja. E tund kokën dhe vështroj larg, vetëm tani e kuptoj se disa lot më ishin derdhur në fytyrë, duke i fshirë shpejt me dorën time të lirë. Nuk i përgjigjem refuzimit tim, kështu që vështrova Mbrapa, duke parë Edhe Znj Monroe duke mbajtur lotë, pse, nuk e di. Duke e dridhur kokën e saj, ajo e shtyn veten jashtë dyshemesë, dhe arrin një dorë për mua, të cilën unë ngadalë e marr. Tani duke qëndruar unë e pastroj veten me dorën time të mirë, duke mbajtur lirshëm çantën time të shpinës ndërsa pres pyetjet e saj.

E vetmja gjë që ajo bën është, që duket të tundë kokën për vete, para se të lëviz që unë ta ndjek atë. Ajo më çon në shkollë, kurrë nuk më flet dhe nuk më shikon, duke vështruar me ngulm, pothuajse bosh. Ajo më çon në dhomën e mjekësisë dhe më thotë të pres te dera ndërsa ajo largohet për të biseduar me një infermiere. Pyes veten se çfarë po thotë ajo, a dyshon ajo se njerku im i ka shkaktuar këto plagë? Apo mendon se një student tjetër ma bëri këtë? A duhet të vrapoj deri sa ende e kam shansin? Mendimet e mia befasohen teksa Edhe Znj. Monro dhe infermierja vijnë tek unë, nervozizmi im që shkelmon në një person tjetër që është i pranishëm.

U përpoqa të mos i kushtoja vëmendje ndezjes së dhimbjes ndërsa infermierja më mbështolli kyçin e dorës në një qese akulli, i ftohti i ftohtë që më bën të dridhem ndërsa moti jashtë ishte tashmë i ftohtë. Pas disa minutave të ngrirjes së dorës ajo sjell një fasho të ngjeshur, snuggly mbështjell kyçin tim dhe dorën, dhimbja është pakësuar, por mban një dhimbje të qëndrueshme që rrethon gjithë krahun tim. Kur mbaron më jep udhëzime për ditë, dhe një shënim për klasën që ishte dora ime e shkrimit.

Duke u futur tek dera, e pashë Znj. Monro duke pritur atje, buzëqeshja e saj miqësore u zëvendësua nga një pamje serioze dhe e ashpër, që i bën hapat e mia pak më ngurruese. Do të largohemi nga dhoma e mjekësisë dhe do të dalim në korridorin e qetë dhe të shkretë, fytyra e saj është ende serioze sa të ndalemi të dy.

"Si E gjete Atë Harkëtar plagosur?""Nuk ishte një çështje, por diçka që kërkoi një përgjigje, një të cilën isha jashtëzakonisht hezitues ta jepja. Duke e tundur fytyrën time larg saj unë tund kokën' jo ' përsëri, nuk dua t'i them të vërtetën, gjëmim mendor se do të shkaktojë më shumë dhimbje se të mirë, edhe nëse ajo do të më besonte mua askush tjetër nuk do ta bënte.

"Arçer, nëse nuk më thua, atëherë do më duhet t'i them zyrës të telefonojë babanë tënd."Pohon ajo, zëri i saj që humbet disa nga ashpërsia e saj ndërsa përpiqet të më bëjë të përgjigjem.

Duke dëgjuar thirrjen E saj Alek babai im i bën të gjitha këto ndjenja të shpërthejnë, zemërimi im po rrjedh lirisht, dhe unë nuk mund të ndihmoj por të reagoj kaotikisht, "AI NUK është BABAI im!"Bërtitja ime i bën jehonë korridorit, heshtja e lënë pas saj është e parehatshme, e gjithë ai besim i shtyrë nga inati lë shpejt trupin tim ndërsa nxjerr. Ajo nuk është budalla, ajo do të kuptoj se çfarë po ndodh, unë do të marrë larg nga shtëpia ime, vendi i fundit që më kujton mamanë dhe motrën time.

Qëndrimi i saj duket se u forcua pasi e dëgjoi përgjigjen time, unë vetëm mund të shpresoj se ajo nuk do të jetë e zemëruar me shpërthimin tim.

"Do të të pyes edhe një herë. Kush e bëri këtë."Zëri i saj ishte shumë i qetë, dënimi i dytë u shkëput ashpër dhe nuk la vend për justifikime. Më në fund përballem me të, edhe pse koka ime është ende e ulur, sytë i dridhen asaj aq shpesh sa mendoj se çfarë do të them.

"....Alek."Zëri im praktikisht pëshpërit, edhe pse e di që e dëgjoi dhe e di se dikush tjetër e di këtë sekret më bën të ndjehem... vulnerabël.

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.

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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?

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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."

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

You're a famous rock star being interviewed about the beginning of your career to the current (includes mentions of Mick Ronson, David Bowie, and Mick Jagger):

"Ma'am, can you tell us a little bit about when you first met David Bowie?" The question was so sudden that I could only scrunch my eyebrows at it. I expected David to be brought up sometime, but I didn't expect the first question to be about him.

"Sure, let's see.... I can't remember the exact date, but my dear friend - Mick Ronson - had called me up saying some band was interested in having us as guitar players. I was hesitant because I enjoyed my job as an architect, but something pushed me to go with him; we hopped on the next train to London and did the audition." I explain, tilting my head up at the memories resurfacing. Ronno had been unsure as well, but I'm glad we went.

"We heard it wasn't a pleasant experience? What happened?" They emphasize 'wasn't', clearly looking for some juicy gossip on Bowie, and who am I to disappoint.

"Well, David had accepted Mick but rejected me, and Ronno originally turned down the offer because of that. He didn't even tell me the truth, just grabbed me by the arm and lugged me as well as the guitars out of the building. I knew it hadn't gone well because he had this angry glare in his eyes, which is strange, because if you've ever met him, then you'd know he's rather sweet, and has a very discerning disposition.

I asked what was wrong and he just said that they didn't want us. I knew he was lying, but I didn't want to argue with him. We spent the rest of the time wandering around London sightseeing." I state, folding my hands up in my lap as I look at the interviewer. I don't like looking back to the '70s, a lot of stuff happened, and I fear what they will bring up.

"What happened after that?" The interviewer continues hastily digging, wanting more information. I guess this person isn't going to quit until they get the full story.

"We had stopped by a restaurant and were having lunch. Ronno was saying we should catch the train home after, but we were interrupted by David. I don't know how he found us, I just remember being shocked when he started begging Ronno to join his band. I was also a little confused, and I remember saying, 'I thought you didn't want us?'

To which David responded, 'No, I want him, I just don't want you.' That line had run through my head the following 3 years until I realized how lucky I was David didn't want me." I say the last few sentences in a softer voice, not liking to relive that particular memory.

"He said what?!" The interviewer over exaggerates their movements, getting the audience laughing just as they had hoped. I laugh a little too, David saying something so rude does seem rather uncharacteristic.

"Yah, I was rather astonished as well because the words left him in such a casual way, as if choosing what bread to buy at the market." I say, gently chuckling at the visual of David buying bread in such a critical way.

"What- How, how did Mick react to that." Their eyes widen, the crowd quiets down as they await my answer.

"Oh, he almost punched David! But I grabbed him and pulled him aside, asking why he lied and all that stuff." I respond, remembering the beautiful anger that he so desperately wanted to act on.

"I bet the last thing you wanted was for him to join David's band, right?" The interviewer asks the question humorously.

"That's... Wrong actually. He was vehemently against playing in a band without me, this is mainly due to the fact that ever since we were 12, we've always played together. But, I wanted him to take the opportunity, to show the world his ability, and to be able to be a confident player without me." I explain in a gentle voice, vaguely thinking of how self-conscious he was at the time when it came to him playing guitar.

"You seem to be a really supportive friend, (Y/N)." The tone of their voice turns genuine, the whole conversation losing the humorous quality that had been sustained.

"I try to be, the last thing I want is for people's failings or regrets to be because of me." I smile, my relieved guilt ebbing away as I think of where he and I are now.

"As well as being supportive, you also seem to be fairly protective, at least, that's what I got when Mick told us the story of you traumatizing his high school bully! With that in mind, how did you feel when you learned he was earning next to nothing during the tour?" The beginning of the sentence sent the interviewer and audience into a bit of a laugh, I laugh as well at the memory of scaring off Ronno's bully.

The laughter lightly quiets down to a more serious tone at the end discussion.

"I was appalled! I hated myself for a while because of that, because I pushed him into this situation where he was barely getting paid. Which was the opposite of what I thought would happen, especially after their popularity went through the roof!"I exclaimed, my eyes widening as I relived the shock; the ebbing guilt rushing forward tenfold.

"I heard you went to some extreme measures in order to help him out, what exactly did you do?" The interviewer goes on, the questions digging into lesser known information.

"Well, I joined any band I could, I would try and get hired by restaurants for live music during nights, and then during the day I had a job as a waitress as well as working part time as a lyricist." I explain, just saying that makes me remember how tiring my schedule was back then.

"Now that's a lot to juggle, and I'm sure you have some great stories from those days, but we have a specific story. What happened during one of your many tiring nights of live music?" They ask, this question is sort of a bore to me, one I'm frequently asked to retell.

"I had been band hopping at the time, and was hired for a gig when I didn't have a supportive group, so I improvised. I played my guitar and was singing live, but before that I had recorded the drums and rhythm guitar parts for the songs I was scheduled to play, so when I got up there I just started the recording and played along.

This was for a club where they wanted rock, so it was heavier playing. It was during my guitar solo I noticed someone in the crowd." I divulged, deciding to add in some information I had never shared before.

"Ooh, is this when you met the Rolling Stones?!" Someone screams out, the crowd and interviewer looking in shock before they all burst out laughing at the person's eagerness.

"Yes... but I technically only met Mick Jagger that night. I wasn't a big fan of the Rolling Stones at the time, but I did have an appreciation for their music. I was actually playing one of their songs at the time. Either way, it just surprised me to see him." I continued after we had all calmed down.

"I know you joined their band after that, but can you tell us what exactly went down?" I squint slightly at my interviewer's vernacular before deciding to just answer them.

"I don't think I can tell you all the details, I worry J might get embarrassed! But, I can tell you that he met me backstage after I was done and asked me if I was available tomorrow to meet him at a recording studio. It was the weekend the next day, so I said yes, he wrote down the address and time on a piece of paper, handed it to me, then said goodbye and walked away." I state in a jovial tone, Jagger is one of my favorite people to talk about, because he loves to call immediately after the interview and schedule a meet up. He's strange like that.

"Sounds strange? How did you feel after that?" They looked intrigued, clearly wanting me to divulge the information that I withheld.

"I was shocked. The next day I went and met him and his band mates, then they started playing a song together and asked me to improv. I had never heard the song before, so I just started watching their movements and playing off of that; by the end they asked if I was interested in joining their band, which I clearly said yes to." I exclaim, the interviewer's face looking shocked by what I just said.

"Wow, that all sounds like it went really fast?"

"Oh it was, we had only been playing for 20 minutes when they all stopped and asked me to join. I was going to say no because I needed to make enough money to send to Ronno, but when they mentioned how much I would make weekly I immediately accepted." I reply, chuckling as I remember my astonishment.

"I know after joining the Stones, your career skyrocketed, your solo albums have done well, and you write all your own songs?" They continue, motioning to my newest album sitting on their desk.

"Yes, my solo albums have done surprisingly well, and I write my own songs. I do accept and sing other songs sometimes, but I usually have a story told throughout my albums, and throwing in a random song messes that up." I explained.

"Did you and Mick Ronson keep in contact during this?" They question, looking at me in interest.

"Of course! In the beginning, Ronno and I called every week at the least, and we would send letters sometimes too!" I state ecstatically before calming myself down.

"How did that work? He was touring at the time right?" They ask in a befuddled way.

"Yes he was, but he would tell me the places he would be as well as the dates that he would be there, and I would do the same with him. It was a little complicated, but it was worth it." I reply, my hands waving as I mimic us writing letters.

"Honestly though, what would you send him that couldn't be said over the phone?" They ask after a few moments, laughing as their mind runs.

"Photos, drawings, songs, food-"

"Photos?" I can hear what they're implying, and I can't help but squint my face in disgust. The crowd's laughter magnified at my reaction.

"Stop thinking like that, you all have dirty minds! I would take pictures of me and the band, as well as the places around me. I loved drawing as well, so I would send him some, as well as some songs that I thought he would enjoy playing. Lastly, I knew he was getting food, but I knew it wasn't food he was used to, so I would bake him something, or buy him local snacks and ship them off to the correct address." I explain, describing the different things I would send him.

"Did he ask you to do any of this?"

"No, Ronno was never a complainer, he hated telling people his issues. I was usually the exception, but he prefers telling me in person as compared to over the phone or in a letter. He did enjoy them though, and he would send me songs and pictures as well. I remember him snapping a picture of his drummer scarfing down some cookies I made!" I jubilantly state, smirking as I remember that the picture is still hanging on my fridge.

"You sent him all these lovely things, what did he send you?"

"I never asked for anything more than a letter or a phone call, but he would send me these extravagant songs, asking me how I thought they sounded and if I liked them. He would also send me drawings - he's not really an artist, but he knows I love the little doodles he does randomly, so he started sending them to me." I grin, knowing Ronni will be embarrassed by me sharing this information.

"Was this an easier time in your life or would you consider it one of the more stressful?" Ah, here it comes, the questions I am most dreading.

"The fame and fortune made my financial issues about none, but socially I felt isolated. I had played in popular bands before, but never like this, I was only consistently around my band mates and the people that worked for them. I only really talked with Jagger and Keith, and then Keith randomly started hating me, so I was down to only talking to Jagger." I reply almost subconsciously, my mind wanting to distance itself from these memories.

"What about Ronson? I thought you said you had weekly phone calls and sent letters?" They ask in confusion.

"We did, but about 3 months into that, David started complaining to Ronno that he spent too much time talking to me, and that he was ignoring his band mates for someone he might never see again." The answer in a short tone, clearly still holding resentment for David's decision.

"David said that?" They say in shock.

"Yah, he said it straight to Ronno's face. We obviously didn't stop talking, we kept calling and messaging each other, but it lessened after that to about 1 call every 2 weeks. They became much longer phone calls though, he said that David was limiting his amount of calls, but stated that David couldn't limit his time, so we would end up talking through the entire night!" I smile on glee, our weak form of rebellion still makes my heart warm.

"We've talked about Ronson and his band mates reactions, but how did your bandmates react?" They continue, going down a different avenue.

"Well, everyone basically made fun of me and said we were in love. They told me to stop being so desperate because I was probably annoying Ronno, that remark actually made me start to overthink a lot. I started worrying that I was annoying him, and that he didn't like talking to me anymore. I think that's around the time I began to develop anxiety, I was already depressed, so that just added on to my plate." I responded before realizing I was over sharing on live TV.

"Did you tell Ronson about that? How did he react?" They gratefully kept moving right along, not leaving an awkward silence.

"Well, I never actually told him about that, I think this is the first time he's hearing this." I smile in discomfort, and an uncertain smile on my face.

"Really? You never spoke to him about any of this?" They ask in surprise, slightly taken aback.

"My anxiety had me thinking that saying a single word to him was annoying him, so no, I didn't just start talking about this to him. It was a really dark spot for me, the person to pull me through was Jagger actually. He noticed my extensive isolation, how I stopped eating around others, how I stopped talking. He really pulled through for me, which is probably why I'm still friends with him." I voice solemnly, deciding that I might as well be honest about the situation since there is no going back now.

"I know this is a heavy topic for you, I have some more questions, but if you're uncomfortable we can move on." Wish you had said that earlier, but oh well.

"Ask away, we can just skip the ones I'm uncomfortable with." I smile in response.

"Alright, what did Mick do? Did he just pull you aside and talk to you?"

"No actually, he wrote a song and asked if I would listen to it." I responded.

"What?" Perhaps I should rephrase my vague response.

"That's honestly what he did. But he wrote a song with true meaning, it was rather dark, and it actually made me cry and begin to hyperventilate. We were alone, so he just rushed over and helped calm me down; he didn't ask me any questions until I had completely relaxed." I explained honestly.

"What did he say exactly?" They continue.

"He just apologized, asking if I wanted to talk. I said no at first, but then he asked why I've been distancing myself from him and the band, why all the songs I was writing were either dark or sad.

I told him the truth, that I was depressed, that I felt so intensely alone, and that I could no longer talk to Ronno because I was probably annoying him." An uncomfortable shiver ran up my spine, reliving those memories makes me feel nauseous.

"How did he react to that? I can't really picture him being the best at giving advice and comfort." She smiles in a joking way, attempting to lighten the conversation.

"He was lovely, he hugged me like a giant teddy bear and told me that he would help me through this. We talked for a while, he asked me why I thought I was annoying Ronno, and I told him what the band had said to me." I answer, feeling a small smile appear at the memory of Mick comforting me.

"What did he say to that?"

"He told me that they were a bunch of single idiots who were jealous, and that I shouldn't ruin a meaningful relationship with my best friend by believing the words of immature drug addicts." I respond, barely withholding my laughter as I watch everyone's reaction.

"He said that?!" They nearly yell, everyone laughing at my answer.

"Yes, and the next day he told them all off for belittling me. During our talk he spoke to me about my isolation, I explained that I did that when I was sad or feeling out of place, and he asked what he could do to make me feel like a part of the team. He honestly made me cry a couple of times from how caring he was. Then he started talking about heavier subjects, such as why I wasn't eating during lunch breaks, why I never accepted snacks, and why I was noticeably losing weight." I state, realizing that I was now broaching the subject of my eating disorder.

"That must've been tough." They state seriously.

"It was, I realized at that moment, how much I missed Ronno. I asked Jagger if he wanted me to leave the band since I was such a problem, but he told me to stop being an idiot. The next day I was given a few sheepish apologies from my band mates, and Jagger became a very prominent person in my life from that day on." I explained.

"That's good. So Mick Jagger stepping up to help you must've put him pretty high on your list of friends right?"

"Yes, I only realized how much he was doing for me when he barged into my room during a depressive episode and all but shoved the phone into my hand. I distinctly remember him telling me not to come out until tomorrow morning. When I held the phone up, he had actually dialed up Ronno, who sounded very tired and confused, as well as concerned." I smile, these are the memories that I hold onto dearly.

"Really? How did he know what number to call?"

"I assume he went snooping around my desk, in one of my drawers was a paper with dates, addresses, and numbers. It was one of the sweetest things anybody had ever done for me." The look on my face was genuine, that was honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me.

"I know you two are still good friends, but was there ever the possibility of anything more?" Oh boy, I hate it when they try to talk about this subject.

"I did find him to be attractive if that's what you're asking, but I was never in love with him. He did ask me out on a date and I had said yes, the date was lovely, but we got caught in a crowd of fans and he was like how he normally is. It made me remember how many groupies I'd seen leaving his room, and how many women I've seen smothered over him at all times, and it scared me away from ever allowing myself to love him." I reply sincerely.

"Could there have been something? If you hadn't cut it off?" They continue to push the topic.

"There could've been something eventually - from the despondent look on his face when I said I didn't want a relationship, I think he wanted us to become something more. I don't regret what I did, I like the friendship I have with him, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it with his promiscuity and my need for loyalty. We've moved on though, I kind of see him as the older brother I never had." I reply, explaining my reasoning and the aftermath.

"Well, since that ship has definitely sunk, what about Ronson? Was there ever anything there?" They just won't give up will they?

"No... Well, there was one time in high school when we thought we should try dating, but that was spurred on by our teenage inability to understand that we loved each other, but not in that way. We realized that that wasn't us when we tried to act like a couple and both noticed that it felt forced. Ever since then we've been best friends." I state.

"Gosh, you're shooting down all of the fan favorites. Are you interested in anyone? Anyone at all?" They sound slightly exasperated, maybe I should throw them a bone.

"Hmmm... Maybe." I smile, a mischievous glint surely in my eye.

"What do you mean maybe? You can't leave the fans hanging like that!" I can tell that I have their genuine attention now.

"Well, ever since David and I have become friends, I've been... slightly interested in him." I say, jumping straight into the deep end.

"..." The silence could almost be described as palpable, it almost makes me want to laugh at how everyone is stunned into silence.

"Well, don't just stare at me." I laugh lightly.

"... I'm sorry, just processing. Does David know this?" They ask in hurried confusion.

"Well, if he's watching like he said he would, then he knows now." I laughed once again, but this time it had an air of uncertainty to it.

"Don't tell me you just confessed over live TV, in an interview no less!" They say in shock, looking at me with wide eyes.

"What can I say! If he likes me back then this has worked out great." I respond, grinning at their reaction.

"What if he doesn't!" Their response makes me shiver in discomfort at that possibility, but I respond in humor.

"Then I die of embarrassment, cut all ties, and become a hermit!" I state loudly.

"Oh don't do that Y/N! Only healthy reactions are allowed on this show." The crowd laughs lightly at our convo.

I'm about to respond, but my Motorola starts ringing in my bag. I look to the interviewer before quickly digging through my bag and pulling out the phone. I sheepishly glance at it, the audience having fallen silent at the interruption.

"Is it alright if I answer this? It might be important." I state, I know this sounds bad, but it could actually be important since I left my home and animals under the care of my neighbor.

"Of course, but you owe us one more question before you leave then." They respond, holding out their hand.

"Deal!" I agree, shaking their hand quickly.

"Hello, this is Y/N." I state in a professional tone, getting a funny look from the interviewer at my seriousness.

"Y/N darling!" I am thrown off by the happy and familiar tone.

"...David?!" I state in slight confusion, everyone seeming to lean in closer.

"...Yes?" He responds in the same tone, making fun of the way I responded.

"Why are you calling me? I'm in an interview." I explain, swiftly going back to my professional tone.

"Yes well, when someone confesses they are interested in dating you, I thought the first thing one should do is accept." He responds in a joking yet serious tone.

I'm silent for a few moments in surprise, did David just say he wants to date me too?

"Well, don't leave me without a response darling... Will you go on a date with me." His serious and self assured tone dwindled slightly, I can hear his uncertainty.

"Yes." My response was short, it was rushed and all I could muster with my amount of shock.

"Good, I'll pick you up after the interview, so I'll see you in a few minutes." He stated before hanging up.

I can't contain the overjoyed smile that spreads across my face, most certainly accompanied by a warm blush. The audience snickers as I clumsily put my phone away, then they start laughing as the interviewer stares at me with a smug grin.

"Who was that?" They ask tauntingly.

"Ohhh... no one." I try to brush it off, but I know no one is believing.

"Really! Does this no one happen to be named David Bowie?" They continue.

I avert my eyes in embarrassment, the audience laughing even louder as I sheepishly nod my head.

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

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.