I know, ...so soon ;)
The huge classroom quieted it's chatter when the dark haired man entered, he was answered with a polite collective Good Morning after his greeting and the room went back to the silence his presence imposed.
He had taken to teaching Criminal Psychology the way he did Forensics to grown up FBI trainees by force of habit, and he found the results rather rewarding, they took his class seriously, even though they were first years, a bunch of kids soaking up information to face the horrors outside.
His class was taken seriously from day one and as a result, those who were hesitant in their choice of career knew to back off after a week of his lectures or perhaps just one.
He wasn't cruel or delighted in showing them what naked horror looked like. He wanted them to understand what it meant to accept it in their daily lives, because theirs wouldn't be another job to leave behind when reaching home.
If they were disturbed by photographs and vague testimonies, they didn't have it in them to see the real deal.
He had many walk away, and frankly, it felt like a little victory each time. Another soul saved.
Some of them were barely out of their teens, youth still clinging to them in every way, even though they were the ones who tried harder to conceal it.
Whether it was make up, clothes or hairstyles, he could always tell them apart.
This semester he had started with five of them, two girls and three boys, after a few weeks only one remained.
Unlike the other four, she never asked him a question, it wasn't lack of interest, he could feel her eyes follow each of his words with single-minded attention. If it wasn't for her small conversation with her seniors at the end of class he would have thought her a construct of his imagination, a cruel joke to remind him of what was snatched from him.
He didn't like looking at her, especially the days she chose to leave her hair down. She reminded him too much of Abigail for comfort, the Abigail haunting his mind like a beloved ghost. Her brown doe eyes were too much to avoid and too much to look at. Her features were soft and her expression calm, he'd seen her smile to others fleetingly and it only served to deepen the knife in his heart.
He couldn't tell anymore if the Abigail in his mind was the same Abigail he knew, or an ideal image of her. If he was looking at this stranger and picturing what Abigail could have been if he had a chance to love her, he didn't know and it burned him.
She was Abigail's height, her hair was dark, long but curlier, her skin a subtle olive tone. Admittedly she looked nothing like Abigail, but his brain had made a connection between them he couldn't or outright refused to see.
She came back every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday for his afternoon classes. Never missing a day, and always sitting at the end of the classroom, too far from his reach.
He promised to avoid her at all costs, but it seemed fate had another say in the matter.
He had dismissed his fourth year class that morning, it was a small class of thirty very capable and promising students. It was a Friday after all and they looked too excited for the weekend, so he decided to leave the new subject to a new day instead.
He was walking down the empty hall, classes still on going when a voice up ahead echoed back to him.
"Mis clases no funcionan así, si quiere un futuro en esta carrera compre los libros y pague la matrícula como los demás. Esto es una Universidad de prestigio y todos somos profesionales de renombre, haga el favor y no vuelva a faltar al respeto a esta gran institución."
A door shutting loudly only highlighted the anger in the man's voice.
He only caught a few words in Spanish, the man had spoken at the speed of light, hysterical perhaps at whatever's offense he just suffered.
He was unbothered by it all until he made another turn and reached where the loud voice had come from. The girl had clearly been rushed out of class, because she was attempting to put her things in order with trembling hands, a pang of guilt at the thought of ignoring her made him move closer and help her.
She had her hair pulled in a tight ponytail, and he could see her cheeks red in embarrassment.
He smiled at her avoiding her gaze and collected the pens and notes she had on the floor.
"Thank you" she said, taking her belongings and putting them in her bag, he noticed her hands still trembled, her doe eyes didn't seem to want to make contact either.
"No worries Miss Malak."
"Please call me Mia ...I ...I'm sorry, .. I guess you heard that. I should probably ask now that... Umm. Is it okay to attend your lectures even though I'm not enrolled? I know I should have asked before, ...I thought it was okay, because..." Her voice was becoming more uneasy as her nervousness grew. He had heard so few words from her that the onslaught of it left him feeling as the experience was somehow unreal.
"Is that what it was about?" He asked, remembering the older voice.
"Yeah"
"My spanish isn't that good." He smiled trying to give her back a bit of privacy. He supposed she'd feel better if she thought he didn't understand what the other Professor had spouted.
"You're welcome to my lectures as long as you want, There are always students here and there who like to know what they're signing up for before they enroll." He said as he handed her forgotten bottle of water back.
She smiled more at ease, thanked him and excused herself. He wanted to keep her a bit longer, ask more questions, know more about her but curiosity proved damning to him.
He wished she was one of those who left his lectures horrified.
Translation: 'My classes don't work like that, if you want a future in this field, buy the books and pay for tuition like everyone else. This is a Prestigious University and everyone here is a renowned teacher, do me a favor and don't insult this fine institution again.'
