Abused (Teacher/student)

Chapter 2

His eyes locked with mine. I gulped slightly as I took every beautiful feature of his in. His brown messy hair had a 'I just woke up' sort of vibe. He had a perfect defined jaw and every feature on his face seemed flawless. His black roundish glasses made him even more attractive if possible. My eyes trailed down to the rest of him. Needless to say, I had never been more attracted to someone in my life.

He coughed slightly and pulled his eyes away from me. A slow surge or panic rose in me. Why was he looking at me? Did he see my bruises?! Insecurities flooded my mind and my anxiety levels were getting higher.

I have panic attacks a lot. Its really bad and I'm usually all by myself when I have them. I dread them, the feeling of losing control over your body frightens me so much. I bit my lip and stared at my desk; counting to 10 in my head. I definitely did not want a panic attack in front of all these people on my first day of school.

"H-Hi everyone. I'm Mr Harding, your english teacher. I obviously know some of you from last year but we have a couple external student and some I've never met before. So it is lovely to meet you all." He continued to talk about what he's planning in the upcoming two years. Even his voice was perfect, his rich british accent could make anybody's knees weak.

I was slowly calming down, I opened my water bottle and sipped the cold liquid. I still couldn't get over him, he didn't have a stereotypical bad boy appearance, he looked like the sort of guy who you'd see in a cafe with a coffee and a book. He seemed gentle and caring. I sighed as I realised I just spent 10 minutes drooling over him, I hadn't even talked to him. To all I know he could be a secret murderer! Why am I so weird?

He glanced at me again and I swear he blushed. No, I must be wrong.
"So we are going to be studying poetry. Have any of you heard of Thomas Hardy?" He said, looking around the class. Thomas Hardy was my favourite poet, I absolutely adored his work but I wasn't actually going to admit and talk to the whole class. I had to remind myself about my inability to talk like a real human.

"Come on people!" He seemed disheartened. "Well we have a lot to learn then." He stared writing on the board. Jack nudged me. I looked up at him in confusion, he slid over a note.

'How old do u think he is?'

I hadn't even thought about his age. I scribbled down '25 maybe?' A smile grew on his face.

'Perfect age for me' He wrote, while giggling. 'That's a snacc right there.'

I giggled and nudged him playfully. He grinned at me. Id never met someone like Jack before, so carefree but at the same time so genuinely nice.

The lesson slowly drew to an end. "Class, I need to see a plan for this coursework by next week. Give it all you got and ill help you from there." He smiled at us all and his eyes landed on me again. I need to go into a mirror and check the makeup. What if he's seen the marks on my face?

Me and Jack were the last to leave. I could hear girls giggle about Mr Harding. A pang of jealousy hit me, I cringed at myself. Jack had drama so he left; I went to the toilets and checked my face, nothing. My makeup was fine, nothing was visible. Why was he looking at me? I stared at myself in the mirror. This whole thing made me more insecure. I looked closer at myself, there was so much I'd like to change.

I had art so I quickly walked down the hallway back into art block. The classroom was small and there was actually quite a lot of students. I sat by myself at the edge of the table. I pulled out all my stuff and looked up as my art teacher, Ms Potter, began talking.

She was cute and old. I have a soft spot for old people. My grandad was probably one of the best humans on earth, he had a heart of gold and he was like my best friend. He never really grew out of his childish manner, he was always joking with me. God, I loved him like mad. I went to him about anything and everything. I think when he died, a part of me died with him. I could feel tears building up so I pretended to try find something in my bag till I was okay again.