The Misunderstanding of Fate

Chapter 3 - Fire

And the bad luck continued. My final hour consisted of a last minute test which meant that for one whole hour the room sat in silence. For one whole hour I wait, almost pleading, for the final bell to ring. I just want to escape this place and this day. However, fate seemed to have other things in store.

As soon as we are told to put our stuff away, the fire alarm rings. Quickly, I put my pencil case in my bag before placing it on my back. There was no way I wanted to return back to this room. Our teacher is sternly instructing us to make our way - calmly! - to the designated meeting point. I slowly begin to follow the crowed feeling almost annoyed at the fact that I couldn't just go home. My dad didn't need a phone call, in the middle of his shift, telling him that all students were being evacuated and I was nowhere to be found. So, I simply follow the rest of the student body.

As we turn a corner, something (or, rather, someone) hooks onto my skirt halting any movements I was making. Rough hands find their way to my hips and use their grip to navigate my body into the nearest door. The contact is scary enough, since no one here knows me, but the fact that it's in the middle of a drill heightens my fear.

Even with the lights off, I can see that my assumption of this room being a classroom were wrong. It's much smaller with numerous shelves. That's all I can make out in the darkness. The only thing audible is my breathing which is heavy from confusion and fear. The hands remain firmly on my hips as the stranger holds our bodies against each other. My back is planted against their chest meaning I can feel their steady, calm heartbeat. Our silence remains as the noises outside of the closet, in the corridors, disappears. For the first time, I wonder how this situation is going to end if this wasn't a practise drill and there was actually a fire in the building.

One of the hands on my hips is removed as the other wraps itself around my front to hold me flush against their chest. I can hear a few objects being moved from the side just before a little light appears. The light is coming from an old torch on a woody shelf. The arm around my front means that I can't move much but, with one look at the black sleeve to my right, I can tell instantly who is holding me here. The knowledge is unsettling as I quickly think back to our conversation this morning. And that unsettling feeling is only heightened when I feel his soft breath against my ear.

"How long did it take you to guess?" He whispers into my ear making my eyes involuntarily close.

I don't even attempt to answer his stupid question. Instead, I try to move away from him. Obviously, he has other ideas. Both of his hands return to my hips where he spins me to face him. Chest to chest and face to face. There's amusement in his eyes, evidence of his excitement at the situation. The thought is, yet again, nerve racking.

"Ah, the princess has lost her voice." He comments as his hands fist each side of my skirt.

Pretending he hadn't spoken, I keep a neutral voice. "Is this you trying to scare me because of your bruised ego?"

That gets a smirk. One I'm too familiar with already. "Are you scared?" He lets out an almost moan, "Please say yes."

My head tilts, "Should I be?"

That response is not what he expects. Slowly, his hands tighten in my skirt causing me to move even closer. I'm finding it hard to ignore how high my skirt if from his hold. Naively, I hope he hasn't noticed.

"I dragged you into a closet during a fire drill and you're unsure if you should be scared? Is your false confidence due to the fact that you're from the big city?" Now, that is something that does cause me to visibly shiver. By the look on his face, he notices that too. George's smirk increases, "Oh, there's that look that I just love. I did some research after your little speech outside."

My anger boils over, "That's disgusting and invasive."

That earns a smile, a real one, "Finally, the princess shows some emotion! What is it that bothers you most? The fact that I know everything about your life or the fact that I cracked through your facade?"

Through my anger I manage to bite out, ""That's a big word for an uneducated asshole like yourself."

His answering chuckle only fuels my anger. In the heat of this moment, I've forgotten about the fire alarm. As the thought reappears, my head turns towards the door. I know that with the grip on my skirt, there's no way I'd escape right now.

Now that my head is turned, he places his mouth close to my ear, "I pressed the alarm after I got a copy of your schedule. Then, I walked to your class and watched you all leave," another shiver goes down my spine as he moves his lips towards the skin under my ear, "Then I followed you and here we are."

My head remains facing the door as a little bit of fear for the man in front of me runs through my veins. Initially, I had somewhat doubted the stories and ignored the many warnings in the corridors. I never wanted to personally experience one of those tales told in the building. However, this has passed that line.

"I get it," I force out, "I got it. Alright? You can stop now."

He smirks before innocently asking, "Got what?" My teeth clamp together. This guy was something else. "Your father's name is Paul. Your mother's name is Lauren-"

It's unstoppable really. Slap. A pin could have dropped afterward and it would have been audible. My hand could melt snow, melt ice, if it came in contact. George's face is slightly turned from the impact of the assault and his hands in my skirt uncoil somewhat. Stepping out from his grip, I take in the scene. My eyes widen a fraction in response as the rest of my body remains unmoving. In an instant, his eyes snap back to me while his face slowly rotates back to its original position. A dangerous look runs through his eyes as he brings one hand to his cheek. Rubbing it slightly, he glances at his own hand out of shock. I think we're both still in shock. Thankfully, my reactions are quicker as I take the opportunity to open the door and slip out. My bag has remained outside the door. Picking it up, I realise I never felt myself drop it. Who knows how long we were in there? Anyone could have picked it up.

The yard is empty by the time I exit the building. Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, my hands run over my face. Could that have gone any worse? Could this day get any worse? I doubt fate had much more planned.

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George is an intense guy.