Hello Monday

Part 19; 8:39 am

"Enough!" Monday bellows. I feel the end of his gun pulling away from my temple. From the corner of my eye, I can see Monday pointing it at Mrs. Taylor instead but still keeping an arm around my neck.

Mrs. Taylor's confidently smug face falls. "What do you think you're doing?" she stammers.

"Making sure your student doesn't get hurt," Monday replies snarkily, making a point by emphasizing the word 'student.' "Now step out of our way. Make sure you stay here. Or else," he continues with an underlying threat. 

With his arm still around my neck, he pushes me towards the door and out into the hallway, the whole time still having his gun aimed at Mrs. Taylor. The moment both our feet touches the marble floor outside of the teacher's lounge, Monday drops his arm from my neck. I instantly turn around, watching him rub his face roughly.

"Well, that was a flop. Another plan, princess? The hallways are too dangerous; we are too exposed. We need to try to be away from the hallways," he tells me.

I continue to stare at him, my mouth dried out of words. I am curious as to why he had suddenly experienced a character change and is now helping me. No reason I make in my head makes sense. None at all. And I can say that I have about 134 illogical reasons as to why he is helping his supposed-to-be enemy now. 

One of them is definitely not 'because he just wants to' because that would just be crazy, right?

To satisfy my inquisitive mind, I decide to voice out my thoughts. "What are you planning?" I ask him. 

He shoots me a questioning look. "That's my question?"

"No. I mean what are you doing helping me? What will you get out of helping me?" I rephrase my question. 

"I told you, I want your trust," Monday says softly, as if he is embarrassed about it. 

"Why is that so important to you?"

"Humans don't know the value of trust until they've lost it," Monday starts, not concealing the fact that he put a hidden meaning in that sentence. "I plan to earn yours and keep it forever, princess," he finishes with a wink. 

With that (or precisely, before I could reply, which seems to be most of the time), he grabs my hand and pulls me towards the stairs. He starts to pull me towards the staircase that leads down, but instead I pull him towards the one that goes up.

"I have a plan," I reveal to him. I continue to pull him towards the stairs, but he pulls me back, the situation too familiar. 

He shakes his head, "The last time we had this conversation, your life was threatened. I'm not going to make the same mistake."

"We have to go to the other lab. The chemistry lab," I insist.

He continues to stare at me with doubt dripping on every inch of his face. After a while, presumably due to his earlier claim about having to keep off of the hallways, he gives in and gives me a slow nod. "Okay, I trust you."

We go up the stairs side by side, one step at a time. Thankfully, no one is roaming the hallway when we set foot on the sixth floor. So with no hesitation, we turn right and slip into the chemistry lab easily. During the whole journey, I cast my eyes at anything but the lab. I cannot bring myself to go through the haunting memories that will flood me if I take as little as a glimpse at the lab door. 

I shake my head and force myself to focus on the present time. I don't need a trip down the very raw, very painful memory lane. 

Upon entering the lab, I start for the workbenches, opening each drawer one by one. I blindly search for the item by placing my hand in the drawers. When I don't find the object that I'm looking for, I gently close the drawer and make my way to pull another one open. As I continue my bizarre search, I can feel Monday silently following me without question.