Duke Kingsley is the reigning President of Goldwater Academy. He made sure everything was done in perfect order and only the highest standards were allowed to be portrayed by students.
He was Immaculate.
And I, Norah Saunders, am about to turn his...
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It wasn't often I cried over something someone has said which hurt my feelings. It's mostly because I wasn't the type to cry easily- unless I was really hurt. I knew I was strong enough to face criticism, it was something I learnt after my mother left us.
The London press came down on my family so harshly as they tried to dig for dirt. Why did the prestigious Saunders couples file for divorce? Would their multimillion-dollar company fail like their marriage? Was their gold-spoon-fed daughter strong enough to face the hardships of life?
Criticism was nothing new for me.
But this time it felt different because it came from him. I wasn't sure why, but he had a way of frustrating me by the snap of his finger. It felt like he enjoyed pushing me to the edge, without remorse and it made me wonder how he could be so gentle with defending me in front of Noel yet speak so harshly to me behind closed doors.
Especially after I admitted I still struggled with PTSD.
The longer I sat inside the girl's bathroom weeping, the more I felt pathetic. It was stupid really, because I knew my strengths better than anyone, but I also knew he was right. I did need his help with handling the Noel situation and I may have to face the truth of what I ran away from two years ago, to do so.
'It's my responsibility to'
His words echoed in my mind distastefully. So, I'm just an obligation to his student body duties?
That made me so upset.
The bathroom door opened just as I blew my nose, and I heard the clippings of boots entering the room. I sniffed, trying to quiet myself but when the person stopped nearby my stall door, I knew it was already too late.
"Hey, are you okay?" She asked softly.
I sighed recognizing her voice. "I'm fine," I grumbled, pulling more tissue from the roll, and wiping my nose.
She hesitated. "N-Norah?" I didn't answer, instead, I decided to push the door open and met her face to face.
Her eyes studied me with what looked like genuine concern, and I looked away, and towards the mirror. My brown eyes were swallowed up by my puffy eyelids and my cheeks were blotchy from my tears. I sighed and gripped the sink for some form of closure. Thankfully my Afro stayed in place, secured in a ponytail-high puff on my head but I still felt like a mess.
Rosalind remained behind me, watching. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," I replied, turning the pipe on. I swiftly washed my face, feeling chilled by the coolness of the water.
"You really don't remember me, do you?" She asked when I shut the tap off. I glanced at her from the mirror, once again trying to form some memory of her, but I couldn't.
