I missed the leavers assembly. Whilst my classmates were standing in the assembly hall singing hymns in various refrains I was behind the dinner hall doing less godly things.

After he left I sat down to smoke a cigarette; holding it as far away from me as possible in the hopes I wouldn't smell of it later. I took a deep drag on it and smiled to myself. I'm not sure why, it's not that I was happy about anything, I just wasn't unhappy about anything and that seemed as good a reason as any.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see one of the third year teachers at the window of his office that had a relatively un-obscured view of where I now sat. What a peeping Tom. I looked up at him and gave him a wink. I was leaving now anyway so even if he reported me; which he wouldn't, there wasn't much they could do. Most people would probably be embarrassed that they had been caught but he just smirked as he did every time he watched.

These last few weeks everyone had been on a high about leaving, causing as much havoc as possible as per tradition. Each of our teachers gave us a lengthy lecture about going out into the real world. The most awkward one being Mr Carlin who gave us advice about sex and women, avoiding my eye the whole time and then asking me to stay after class. He only wanted to bid a final farewell and he was quite sweet really. He stroked my hair and told me to take care of myself, handing me money 'for the summer'.

He seemed almost relieved when I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He smelt of aftershave and a little bit of whisky. Right before I left he told me to keep in touch, just like all my other teachers had. But just like all of them, he knew I wouldn't. I knew I would have to get the later bus home because there was someone else I had to see.

I knocked and waited, somewhat anxiously. I heard a response that I guessed meant to go in and she was sitting at her desk as usual, blonde hair falling over her shoulder.

"I was beginning to think you would be leaving without saying goodbye," she smiled at me.

Around this place when I had been younger I was scared of my own shadow. I never wanted to talk to anyone and I was painfully shy. Now I was more confident in myself, sure footed and social. In front of her though I felt about eleven again.

"Hi," I said shyly and her smile grew even bigger. Ever knowing and ever beautiful. She stood up and embraced me in a warm hug which I melted into.

"What am I going to do without my little Tim, hmm? I'm going to miss having you in my class," she said kindly. I could feel her pulling away in the hug, deeming the length and severity of it as inappropriate for a teacher student relationship. When I held on she placed her hands on my arms to prise me off. Why was she the only one who didn't want me?

"Dear little Tim, what is the matter," she asked, saddened when she saw I was crying. "Surely you're not that sad to be leaving this dusty old place? Think of all the nice things ahead of you!"

"But you're here," I whined and wiped at my face with my sleeve. She tutted and handed me one of the soft, scented tissues from the box on her desk.

"Nope, I'm here," she said and she pointed to my chest. "Very portable indeed."

It was probably meant to soothe but it only made me cry harder. Without even realising it she had guided me into a chair and was kneeling beside me.

"Tell me," she said simply. She always did. She always knew there was something even when I didn't. I sobbed like a pathetic idiot for a while and then shook my head.

"You'll hate me," I whispered. Rather dramatically in hindsight but it was genuinely what I feared.

"I couldn't hate you Tim," she assured me and I looked into her beautiful blue eyes trying to memorise the exact colour.

"You can't tell anyone else," I asked her severely. "Like, ever!"

She seemed to hesitate. God, I couldn't even trust her anymore?

"Are you in trouble?"

I shook my head to imply I was not. To be honest, I didn't know. If I told her I very well could be.

"Then whatever it is can be fixed," she smiled. "Tell me what's troubling you."

So I told her. I told her about Charlie and James. About John and Christopher and all the others who's names I couldn't remember even if I tried. I told her about my teachers, my bullies, my tormentors, my family and my sad existence. The whole time she said nothing which only spurred me on further to fill the horrible silence that I had created.

"I swear I didn't mean to do it," I told her, scraping at the bottom of the barrel for dignity. "It was just hard with the bullies and I was so bad at math," I laughed. "I needed help and it didn't seem like such a bad thing at the time but then it just sort of got out of hand," I said referring to my illicit activities with half the faculty with a laugh.

My heart thudded in panic when she stood up. It hurt to see that she was backing away from me. I knew she would hate me, that she would finally see how pathetic and worthless I was even when she had picked me as her favourite. I eyed the door and wondered if she would stop me if I left. I picked at my nails a little in the tense quiet.

"Did you tell anyone else? Before now?"

I told her I hadn't. She was visibly tense and when she turned to face me again she was crying. The next thing I knew I was wrapped up in a hug that was far more embracing than the one I had given her. I heard her kiss my hair and it was all a little bit uncomfortable.

"Oh my dear Tim. How could they have put you through such awful things?"

Now she was the one being dramatic. In all honesty I wanted to leave then. I wasn't sure I liked this. Part of me wanted to be able to play it all off like it was a joke, it never happened.

"I really have to go get my bus," I said quietly and she let go of me. She seemed a little pale.

"Yes, yes, of course," she replied absently. I noticed the time on the wall clock and was a little worried that I would miss the last one. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

"Thank you," I muttered bashfully, referring to her teaching and her listening.

"Anytime," she replied. Great, now I'd left her depressed and worried.

I was unfortunate on the bus to have the seat next to an elderly and talkative war veteran and it reminded me why I had never studied history. I trudged the whole way home in drizzle and shoved open the door to the porch, dumping my bags and shoes in the hall. My parents were no doubt out somewhere for the night so I made myself some toast and went to my bedroom to read.

I lay back on my bed and stared at the hideous wallpaper.

Home sweet Home.