Chapter Nine:
The pen in my hand flurried with quick sketches. The crossbow wasn't the correct dimensions and I had to have it ready by tomorrow! They boys had dealt with poles today, most of them failing miserably. Some got the hang of it towards the end. It wasn't enough though.
I reached behind me and took a swig of coffee wincing as the strength of the espresso hit the back of my tongue. I scribbled the word pole onto my planner, splattering ink across my wrist as I did so. Ignoring the sudden mess on my hand, I returned to the dimensions I would need for the crossbow. I was two inches off and it only took half to backfire. I was running out of time.
A hesitant rap came at my door. Without looking up, I yelled, "Come in!"
I sighed with relief as I saw the problem in the crossbow, erasing the dimensional error and fixing it. There was silence in front of me— causing me to take a quick look, seeing Carlisle at my door.
"Hello, Carlisle, what do you want?" I asked, jumping out of my bed and tacking the sketch to the board, cursing when a bunch of other drawings fell to the ground.
"Hello Isabella. I came to talk to you about your class," he said, still standing in the doorway.
"What about them?" I asked, shuffling the papers into a single pile and placing it on my desk.
"I just saw them hauling bags of ice of to the bathroom. When I asked them what it was all about, they told me it was for ice baths," he said, his tone sharp.
I gazed up momentarily, shocked the way his tone rose. His sky blue eyes were unnaturally stormy and angry. I frowned at his expression, allowing the papers to fall though my fingertips, stepping towards my mentor and friend, "What's wrong?" I asked softly.
"Wrong?" he seethed, the storm in his eyes transforming into pure anger. He was livid, his hands clenching into fists by his sides, trembling, "Isabella, you're working these boys to death! They're barely surviving!"
I snorted, fighting to keep my cool, "That's not my fault—"
"Like hell it is!" he exploded.
My patience had finally run out and I could hear the proverbial bomb ticking down in the deep recesses of my mine, "What the fuck are you talking about?" I growled; all pretenses of cool, calm and collected gone.
Carlisle threw his hands up in exasperation, whirling around and taking a seat at my wooden desk chair, "Ever since we went to Maribel, you haven't been the same! You work and you strive, but you never stop to breathe. Whoever it was in Maribel really scared you, and—"
"I am not afraid!" I bellowed, cutting off the tangent.
"Then what do you call this?!" he roared, standing suddenly, towering over me angrily, "You hardly eat, you make plans and drive your students through the ground and the way you're living—"
"Oh, now you want to complain on the way I live?" I screamed, laying the sarcasm thickly.
"I have to!" Carlisle bellowed, his hands clamping down on my shoulders tightly, whipping me around to face my room, "Tell me what you see," he said gruffly, his grip never relenting.
I exhaled sharply through my teeth a sharp whistle echoing off the walls of my room. I could easily break from Carlisle's grip, but he would end his game if I participated, "It's my fucking room, what of it?" I snarled.
A hollow laugh echoed through Carlisle," Do you know what I see?"
"Enlighten me," I sniffed sarcastically.
"I see a cluttered room of what used to be an organized girl. You used to have everything in order, Isabella. You could never stand disorganization!" he whispered, his mouth by my ear.
I blinked for a moment, suddenly able to see what he saw, my stomach rolling in revulsion.
Manila folders littered the sides of my bed, wads of paper were thrown all across the room, in no particular order; pencil shavings littered the desk and various parts of the floor. Diagrams and sketches lay all over the walls, some hanging on by a piece of scotch tape. My bed was rumpled and undone; all my dirty laundry lay in a pile in the corner, wasting away.
Carlisle then shoved me forward, snapping me out of my trance. He angrily tore papers off of my mirror, revealing a scratched and abused surface. But it was clear enough for his point, "This," he snarled, "is what you resort to."
Hollow brown eyes echoed back to me, no spark or livelihood living within them. My cheeks caved in, illustrating the point of malnutrition— my clothes hung off of me in a scary way, as if they were three sizes too big now. My brown hair shone dully in the dim light, greasy at the roots and without life as it resided in its messy bun. Even my skin had become paler. All in all, I looked ill.
Or afraid.
I squirmed weakly against Carlisle's grip, lacking the strength to tear myself away, "Let me go," I protested feebly.
"Why?" Carlisle laughed darkly, "So you can wallow some more? This isn't you. You're not the same!"
"You don't know me at all!" I protested, pushing myself away from him.
Carlisle chuckled, a hollow sound, "Maybe not. But it's pathetic to think this it the best they could send us," he spat.
And with those words, I snapped.
An insane cry escaped my lips as I launched myself at him, pushing him through the open door and pinning him to the opposite wall. My breath came in heavy pants and Carlisle gazed at me with heavy lids.
"Attacking old men now, Isabella? What lows will you stoop to now?" he spat at me sarcastically.
I flung myself away from him with a cry, realizing a second later that I had driven my fist through the wall, "You don't understand!" I wailed, internally appalled by my behavior.
"Then tell me!" Carlisle bellowed, his arms flailing wildly, "Everyone is concerned for your well being, but it too afraid to ask what is the matter!"
A familiar burning began behind me eyes. I gasped at the sensation, appalled at this. Tears? What was this place doing to me?
"Maybe it should stay that way!" I snapped at him, glaring at my only friend, "And maybe you should follow suite," I growled softly.
Carlisle gazed at me as if I had grown another head, "Me? Afraid of you?" he began to guffaw, before ending in a snarl, "You don't scare me Isabella."
Taking a short breath, I threw a punch to his midsection, but his open hand captured my hand in mid-attack. Without hesitation, he took my fist, applying pressure to my wrist, allowing him to flip me around, pressing me into the wall, my arm behind my back in an uncomfortable position.
I squirmed, wincing as his grip tightened against my arm. His lips came at my ear, softer than a butterfly's whisper, "I'm not afraid of you, Isabella. I'm afraid for you. It can't be helped. You are like the child I never had."
Unwillingly, tears fell down my cheeks, a flood of emotion coming down with it. I squirmed once more, crying out when his grip tightened rather than relented. I hated feeling so helpless and weak. The memories that I had buried so deep began to rattle in warning that it were to open. My free hand slapped the wall, a frustrated howl escaping my lips.
Carlisle spoke once again, his tone weak, "Do you see what you're doing to yourself? Slowly, you're destroying yourself and dragging your students down with you."
His grip relaxed for a tenth of a second and that was all I needed to turn the tables in the blink of an eye. Flipping around, I soon had Carlisle in a headlock, his blonde hair brushing against my knuckles. Carlisle flailed, his arms attempting to push me off, "You," I griped, "have no right to go snoop through my life. What I do with my life and what I teach is my business alone," I snarled, throwing my dead friend off to the side and firmly shutting my door.
I stood in the middle of all the clutter, a sudden wave of loneliness was hung over and prickling at my skin like a pine tree brushing against my skin. My room, in all its filth, was hollow and cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, hoping to rub the cold away.
I closed my eyes for a moment, watching the twin pair of chocolate eyes stare back at me from my mind's eye.
Gripped with irrational fear, I opened my eyes and shuffled back to bed, working on the sketches as if nothing had interrupted me.
~TMW01~
"Come on! You have to put some effort into it!" I bellowed, watching as the boys sluggishly twirled the poled in an offensive manner.
I growled, profanities shooting out from under my breath, picking up an extra rod and twirling it with ease from one hand to another and jabbing the dummy hard enough to cause it to sway, "Like that," I growled to my exhausted class.
A hand raised in my peripheral vision. With a sigh and without turning, I knew who it was, "Yes, Mr. Yorkie?" I asked, exasperated.
"Can we take a break, Coach?" he gasped, leaning against his rod for support.
"No," I barked, angry at the suggestion. I took a look at the boys and my heart wept a little but as I saw the same weariness etched on their faces. I rolled my eyes, refusing to show weakness, "Let's do an exercise," I announced my words meeting with groans.
I snapped them with a harsh glare, not allowing them to complain. Complaining was weakness and under no circumstances was that allowed in my gym. I tucked a strand of my chocolate hair behind me ear, gazing at the lot of them coolly, "The exercise is easy. Knock you opponent to the ground with your rod. Only a couple fundamental rules. Avoid hitting each other on the back of the neck, head and the face."
I paused for a moment, sensing protest rising out of the lot of them, "And if you feel the need to disobey I will thoroughly kick your ass," I threatened in a low growl.
I nodded in approval when their restlessness calmed down, "Pair up and begin. Winners of their fights get to sit out the next exercise," I grinned like a cat that had caught the canary.
I knew what I was doing— tempting a morsel in front of their aching eyes. As the words left my mouth, the boys rushed to pick their partner, beginning their fight with newfound energy.
I smirked, watching as they wielded their rods as weapons, using excessive force in the attack. My eye caught a lonely form, huddling in the corner, greedily lapping water from a small bottle. My lip curled in an involuntary snarl as I saw a flash of copper.
"Mr. Masen, what do you think you're doing?" I asked; my voice deadly soft.
Edward's emerald eyes flitted upward, his lids blinking innocently, "Well, it seems I don't have a partner, Coach," he said cheekily, presuming to sit on the mats with an audible gasp of pain.
I felt my cheeks flush with anger, "Oh no you don't!" I yelled, grasping my rod and using it to launch myself across the gym where I landed lithely in front of an exhausted Edward.
"Get up," I hissed, rapping his thigh with an audible snap, using the rod in my hand.
Edward glared at me, a fiery gleam echoing outward from behind the facade of calm evergreen fields, "I don't think so, Coach. I'm about to pass—"
"So?" I snapped, rapping the other thigh with the rod, ignoring the indignant hiss that escaped through this teeth, "Get up and fight!" I bellowed.
"You want to fight?" he growled, standing and grabbing the rod that lay at his feet, "Let's fight!" he growled, throwing himself into the practiced offensive maneuvers with the rod.
I blocked them easily, twirling my own lazily and hitting Edward on the right arm with an audible snap. Edward recoiled as his arm began to turn a lobster color. I held my rod up in a challenging position, "Are you honestly that useless?" I scoffed, honest surprise coloring my tone.
At my words, Edward's head snapped up, his copper locks falling into place over his face, framing his furious icy eyes. He swept his rod around with a furious roar, placing force in each of his attacks. I knocked them to the side, struggling as his rage continued.
His fury was practically palpable, only affirmed by his crystallized eyes. The attacks grew harder and harder to fend off, and soon he hand me in a hold, his strength doubling my own due to the added adrenaline, "I stay after, every day," he snarled, "hoping to perfect your insane exercises and to be as good as you," he grunted pushing me back, "and what do I get for it?"
I stumbled back barely able to bring the rod up in time to block his sudden attack. He was furious— beyond angry, reason leaving his mind and replaced with animalistic anger.
He never looked more beautiful.
Without warning, he catapulted himself over my struggling form, landing behind me. But before I could turn around and defend myself, a sharp agony came at the base of my neck.
I cried out, unable to help it. And with the short lived agony, I descended into the cold arms of darkness.
_0*0*0*_
"What happened?" a warm voice floated around me.
Carlisle….
He sounded worried and concerned. Cold fingers flitted around my forehead, temples and throat, applying the gentlest pressure.
"I sort of hit her in the base of the neck," Edward's voice echoed through my head, reverberating.
I registered his words and anger surged through me. This boy was asking for a death wish— disobeying one of my rules? That would not go unpunished.
There was an audible smack and a girlish yelp from Edward, "I never took you for a fool, boy!" Carlisle roared.
Edward began to explain feebly, but his words began to warble together as I sank under the warmth of my subconscious.
_0*0*0*_
"Edward, I truly suggest that you take refuge elsewhere," Carlisle pled wearily.
"No," Edward murmured firmly, "I know she'll kick my ass. I deserve it," he mumbled.
There was a pause before Carlisle began again, "Of course you do, but when she wakes, she will be irrational. Wait a couple days and she will be much more lenient!" he said in a rushed whisper.
With the softness of a butterfly's wings, a pair of lips brushed against my knuckles, "I'll take it. I deserve it," he whispered against my skin, his tone agonized.
Confusion surged through me at his actions, but the inky darkness pulled me back into deep slumber.
_0*0*0*_
"Edward, this is unbelievable! When are you going to tell her?" Carlisle's voice echoed in a whisper.
There was a pause before he spoke, "Probably never. I keep hoping she'll remember me and—"
"But that may never happen!" Carlisle interrupted with an angry hiss.
A bitter laugh escaped Edward's lips, "Then she'll never know."
'What don't I know?!' I howled, becoming defeated to the darkness once again.
_0*0*0*_
I ached. My entire body throbbed an opposing rhythm to my heartbeat. My had ached in the most painful way possible, putting a sledgehammer out of business. I groaned, struggling to open my eyes.
"I'm warning you…."
"I can handle it!"
My eyes shot open at that interaction, seeing a heavily concerned Carlisle and an apologetic Edward. I pulled myself into a sitting position, ignoring the protest my muscles in my arms, waist and legs gave.
"Carlisle, leave the room," I rasped, my voice thick, but enough to convey the red hot anger that consumed me.
My rules were basically law in the gym— this boy had the nerve to disobey?! A few seconds before, I was angry. Now, I was downright furious.
Carlisle pled with me, using his eyes. But I promptly ignored it, my rage consuming me from the inside out. A small part of me feared for the boy's safety— but then again, he had made his choice and who was I to take away that free will.
"Good luck," Carlisle mumbled, clapping a nervous Edward on the shoulder.
Our eyes locked. Emerald to brown. It was like reading an open book— I could see all the conflicting emotions.
Fear of my wrath.
Determination to stay through it all.
And another emotion that I could not name. And this emotion was strong, it dominated all the others.
I waited until the door clicked shut before leaping out of bed, ignoring as my back bellowed in protest. Edward held his hands up as if o ward me off, his eyes wary, "Coach," he soothed.
"My rules are law," I seethed, my hands curling into fists by my side.
Edward's eyes became sad, his posture sagging a bit, "I know, I know. And if I could take it back, I would," he pled.
"Words," I growled, launching myself at him, my fists flying.
Edward didn't bother to attack back, but he merely tried to block me off. His lack of will to fight infuriated me even more.
I hit him in the midsection, watching with satisfaction as he doubled over. He laid over his waist, lifting his head, the emerald eyes watching with its piercing glare.
In that moment, something within me snapped.
My hands grabbed at Edward's collar, thrusting his face up to mine, pulling his soft lips to mine. Both of us froze, processing what had just occurred.
But his lips were pressed to mine, deliciously soft and delectable. An involuntary moan escaped my lips and spark traveled down my spine as I heard a groan escape his. My lips began to move, parting and tasting Edward's sweet breath as his own lips began to move as well.
Taking advantage, he slipped his tongue in my mouth, eliciting a gasp from me. But with the utmost gentleness, he explored every crevice of my mouth, stroking my tongue with his as if it were precious.
Gentle, beautiful.
Slowly, he retracted and peppered kisses on my mouth, extending it to both of my cheeks before pulling away. I opened my eyes, meeting soft jade eyes. A slow flutter came to my chest as I met his eyes.
And that is why; my open hand came across his face, snapping his head to the side.
Without another word, I left the room— stalking to my dorm. I ignored Carlisle's prying eyes and I left my heart hammered against my chest as my feet tapped a leisure pace against he linoleum.
What was happening?
I had just kissed one of my students. He was gorgeous of course, but I had acted on impulse. Never, had I kissed a boy.
Edward had been my first. And I sure as hell had to admit it was a hell of a kiss.
I threw the door to my room open, closing it in a rush and leaning against the sturdiness. My fingers fluttered to my lips, the residue of the kiss sparking under my fingertips.
It was a hell of a kiss.
It could never happen again.
A/N: Finally, right? But she's a teacher! O.o What to do?
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Best wishes,
Themidnightwriter01