Hey all. So so so so sorry for the short chapter, but I've had the worst writer's block, its terrible. But here's something. And never fear, the plot will be picking up soon. Big thanks to endiahna and Patricia16 for reviewing. So enjoy and don't forget to review!
Three months passed quickly, but for Warren, not fast enough. At first Scott had only called for him to stay after class, or come to see him after dinner once or twice a week, but then it slowly became every night. Then some days during lunch, before school, right after school, until Warren was spending nearly every minute he wasn't in class or doing homework with Professor Scott.
It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. Scott had been gentle, tender, but as time went on, and still Warren couldn't stop himself from crying almost every time, Scott began to get violent.
It was November when Warren first smelled alcohol on Scott's breath, but he'd been too afraid to say anything. But it didn't stop there. Professor Scott never actually got drunk, but it was always there in the evenings, that underlying taste of vodka on his breath.
On the first night of Christmas break, Warren dared to voice his concern. "You aren't supposed to drink, you're a teacher," he said quietly, as Scott was pulling his boxers back on.
"I don't seem to remember when that became your business," Scott said coarsely, not looking at the younger mutant.
"Still-" Warren faltered.
"Still," Scott mimicked, "You're precious Mr. Logan drinks."
"Not on school grounds," Warren protested without thinking.
"Shut up!" Scott yelled suddenly, whirling around and slapping Warren across the cheek.
Warren put a hand to his stinging cheek and blinked several times in surprise.
"I'm sorry," Scott said quickly, also seeming surprised, "I didn't mean to, I don't know what came over…"
"It's alright," Warren said quickly, standing up and grabbing his shirt, "I, um, just remembered some… homework or something I forgot to do, so night." And with that he ran quickly from the room.
He didn't stop running until he'd reached his own room and shut the door firmly behind him.
Warren leaned against the closed door for several minutes, until his heart rate returned to normal. Then he crossed the room and sat in front of his small mirror. He examined his face for a moment, signing as he saw that it was red and slightly swollen.
He glanced absently at his cell phone, which he'd left sitting on bedside table, three missed calls. His father was really being persistent about him coming home for Christmas. Warren sighed again and looked once more into the mirror, deciding that the swelling in his cheek wouldn't go down for a while, he reached over and picked up his cell phone.
Early the next morning Warren padded silently down the long carpeted hallway, pausing in front of Professor Scott's door. He knew that Scott wouldn't be awake for several more hours, good. Quietly he bent down and slid the note he had written the night before under Scott's door, before returning to his room, grabbing his small suitcase, and heading toward the main door of the institute, down the long sweeping front driveway, to the long black car waiting for him.
He'd informed Head Mistress Storm the night before that he would be spending Christmas with his family after all. He was free, in a way, for the next few weeks at least.
He saw the only down fall of leaving strolling calmly into the morning sunlight as the long black car pulled away. But he sighed, forcing himself to look away. The important thing just then was that he was getting away from Scott for a little while.