Vampmama beta'd it. It means she got to read it before you. Don't you just want to shake your fist in her general direction?
I dedicate this chapter to ZenOne. If you haven't read her amazing stories then you are missing out on some sexy times ;)
The Watcher
VI
It seems like hours have passed before the world starts spinning again and I gasp for air when I realize I'm holding my breath. Oxygen floods through my veins and I look around in alarm.
He has vanished.
I'm almost positive that I have dreamed up the whole thing. I tell myself that my imagination is running away from me. I'm simply upset over mother and father.
I run home and barely realize that my father is nowhere to be seen when I dazedly walk through the front door. My mother says nothing of my tardiness and tells me dinner is in the oven before locking herself away in her room.
She stays in there for days. My father comes once, but she refuses to give him his things. She curses the mystery woman. My mother calls her 'the bitch. My father informs her that she has a name. Victoria. Mother's face visually sags as the woman's name escapes my father's lips cloaked in lust. Not once is my name brought up. Not once is there an ounce of concern for my wellbeing. Words are exchanged in loud voices, doors are slammed and I watch in horror as my mother's hand connects with my father's cheek.
I don't see my father for many years after that day and I'm accused of being disrespectful if I dare bring him up in what little conversation I have with my mother.
Life at home is a breeze compared to school. After years of being ignored I am suddenly everyone's favorite game. I am often shouldered roughly in the quarry between classes or sassed out by the popular girls when there is an audience willing to listen. I continue on ignoring them, but it becomes harder to do, especially when one of the girls, tired of my lack of reaction, pushes me toward one of her friends who then purposefully trips me up. I fall hard, hitting my head on the table edge. I cry out in pain as the corner cuts through my skin.
Their laughter is raucous and I wince as my head begins to ache. I am vaguely aware of being lifted up and a stern voice speaking to those around me. I look up and see the kind but irate face of Mr. Banner. He hands me a handkerchief and I place it gently on my head to stem the flow of blood I can feel trickling down my face.
He walks me out of the room and asks if I'm capable of making it to the nurse's office myself so he can return to teach his class. I nod and thank my teacher shyly. I walk around the corner of the English building and stall when I see him. His hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. He stands tall. His pale face is a mask of pure anger.
I remove my hand from my head and then flinch when he is suddenly before me. His cold hands grasp my shoulders roughly and I grimace. He seems to relax them but his eyes are still a burning pit.
"Who did this to you?" he demands.
All I can think is how I can possibly answer that? The man is either crazy or I'm the crazy one and he's some dark part of my imagination. I watch him closely as he glares at me. The chill of his hands reaches my skin through my coat and I open my mouth mindlessly.
"You should really get that looked into," I blurt. His eyebrows draw inwards, but he remains silent. "You obviously have a problem with blood circulation. Your hands are always cold," I state obviously.
His eyes soften and the corner of his mouth twitches. He lets go of my shoulders, but he doesn't move away from me. I remember his question and decide the only way to get to the nurse office quicker is to answer it.
I begin to feel woozy and my words come out slow, but they continue on as though one long word.
"Jessica. We were friends once, but then I became too much of a freak for her and – "
My hair blows around my face as a gust of wind envelopes me. I stall in my slurred confession about my jilted friend.
The breeze stops as suddenly as it had started.
He is gone.