Fables/Fairytales Fan Fiction / Romance Fan Fiction ❯ HOWL ❯ Teacher ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A new day, a new story. A sudden, unexpected turn in Etruria's life lands her face-to-face with a fellow student with a bad attitude who helps her the only way he knows how to...

Originally Posted: December 24, 2007.

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright � 2008 by Annalee, whenpigsfly8992.
Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited.

Miscellaneous: Fables/Fairytales Fan Fiction / Romance Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Horror / Fantasy / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 07.08.2008 | Updated On: 07.24.2008 | Pages: 11 | Words: 6.9K | Visits: 216 | Status: Completed

Teacher

“God dammit,” I muttered under my breath after running into a lost freshman who

had unexpectedly stopped. He glanced at me over his shoulder and quickly moved to the

side to let me pass. “Fucking freshmen.” I said loud enough for the bewildered freshman to

hear. I stormed past him to my first hour: English.

“Well, you look gloomy today.” Sadie stated. She was truly my best friend. Since we

first met in sixth grade, she was the only one who put up with my unusual attitude. Most of

the time, I seemed to be in a horrible mood. Sadie, on the other hand, was cheerful nearly

100% of the time. She was never annoying to me, though. Surprisingly, her bright attitude

brightened mine a little.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” I spat sarcastically. Her light gray eyes scanned me

over.

She sighed and pursed her lips, “What's happened today?”

“I woke up late because my mom screwed up my alarm clock while I was at school

yesterday, so I had five minutes to get ready. Then just as I was about to turn into the

parking lot, I was pulled over because I ran a fucking stop sign. Some Friday, huh?”

“You know…” Sadie began, sitting in the desk next to me, “One day, you're going to

meet someone who's going to change you completely.” My head snapped up at this. It was

something Sadie had never said before. I had been expecting an “Aww.” Or an “I'm sorry.”

I looked at her questioningly.

Her wide, gray eyes looked contemplative and a strand of long, dark chocolate

brown hair fell from behind her ear. The bell rang then, causing both of us to jump. Our

teacher, Mr. Wittman, began class and saved me from further discussion about Sadie's

comment. Mr. Wittman was in his mid-thirties, but looked like he was in his mid-twenties.

With slicked back blond hair and his habit of dressing up everyday, he made a perfect

candidate for female students to drool over. It made me sick to my stomach to see girls

giggle and blush whenever he passed them in the halls. He was, however, one of my

favorite teachers. He taught me more than any other English teacher had.

Today he was handing back our essays. Mine was set on the desk with a bold red

ninety-nine circled at the top.

Mr. Wittman leaned down and said “Well done, Etruria. Yours was the best essay

of all my classes.”

I flushed at the praise. I hadn't thought it was that good. “Uh… Thanks.”

“If you don't mind dropping by after school, I'd like to give you a reward for your

excellent work.”

“O-okay. Sure. Thanks again.”

As Mr. Wittman passed by, I felt envious eyes glare at me from every side. Those

hopeless girls… I thought, stuffing my essay into my binder.

My next two classes, chemistry and choir, went by in a blur. Sadie's words still rung

in my head. It irritated me to no end. What had she meant by it? Had she finally gotten fed

up with me? It was only a matter of time before she turned out like everyone else.

I admit I was surprised when Sadie plopped down in the chair next to me at lunch

and began telling me about her acting class.

“Hey, Sadie?” I asked hesitantly. She gave me her full attention. “Um… What did

you mean earlier?”

“Oh…About H.I.s? That stands for humorous interp—”

“—No, not that.” I interrupted, “In English this morning…” Her eyes got wide with

understanding and her mouth formed a small “o”.

“Well, Ru,” She used my nickname, which was strictly reserved for her and my

parents, “you're always in such an awful mood. I want you to be happy. I don't like seeing

that scowl on your face everyday.”

“You care way too much about me, Sadie.”

“Seriously, Ru.”

“I know, I know.”

The final bell of the day sounded and the school population crowded to all the main

exits. I slipped out of the crowd, staying close to the walls. I opened the door to my English

class and stepped inside. Mr. Wittman was talking to a student who was turning in a quiz

they had obviously missed at the beginning of the week.

“Thank you, it's good to see you again.” Mr. Wittman glanced at me, giving me a

quick gesture to sit down. “What did you have?”

“Strep. Almost had to go to the ER for dehydration.”

“Ah, well, I'm glad to see you're doing well.”

I rested my head on the palm of my hand and gazed at the posters on the wall. I

tuned out the conversation, but the other student's voice distracted me somehow. Under the

raspiness caused by strep throat, his voice was deep and sounded older than a junior… At

least older than the other juniors.

“See ya.” The junior called, walking out the door.

“Ah, let's see…” Mr. Wittman said, rummaging through a desk drawer. “It isn't much, but

it's something, I suppose.” He chuckled.

I stood up and stood in front of his desk while he leaned against it. He quickly wrote

my name, “Etruria Mallory” and scribbled his signature. He passed the sheet of paper to me.

It was a gift certificate to the local Olive Garden.

“Thanks, Mr. Wittman. I'll see you next week.”

I turned and began to walk away. Then I felt soft fingers catch my hand gently. In

that instant, shock took over me. Shock, confusion, and betrayal. With such a small, yet

intimate touch, my trust and respect shattered. My body was disobeying my mind. I told it

keep walking, but it turned back to my teacher.

He loosened his red necktie, then took my other hand with his free one. “Etruria, I

look forward to reading your future essays.” He said. I wanted to glare and yell at him. The

only way my anger showed was through my tightened jaw. “You are such a talented young

lady.” His voice was almost a whisper. He dropped my right hand and raised his to caress

the side of my face. Fuck. His face was inches from mine. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He held me in a

way that prevented me from moving. Fuck! Shit! Fuck! He pressed his lips against mine,

forcing them open. Suddenly, his knee was between my legs and he pressed me firmly down

on it. My body betrayed me as it responded automatically. He was getting excited, and I

could feel it. I struggled now and bit his lip, but he ignored it completely and moved down

to kiss my neck. I was trapped between him and the student desk behind me. The hand that

was holding me around the waist slid down to the top of my jeans.

Then it sounded like the door had opened. It must have been my imagination. I

believed that until I heard the deep, raspy voice.

“Hey, I almost forgo—”

That junior! He had to help! I began yelling for him while trying to fight off Mr.

Wittman. Instead, the monster of a teacher shoved his tongue deep into my mouth, almost

gagging me.

Then I heard a low rumble that nearly sounded like a growl. There was a heavy

impact that knocked us to the ground. I heard a large crash and I glanced over in time to see

an unconscious Mr. Wittman crumpling to the floor. My brain tried to put together what had

just happened. Did that junior just throw my teacher— no, that monster— clear across the

room?

Before my mind could catch up with anything else, a pair of arms wrapped gingerly

around my shoulders to sit me up. I flinched away and the arms didn't stop me. No

more…No more of this shit! Bile rose in my throat and I started gagging.

“Oh, shit!” he hissed. He scooped me up into his arms and kicked the door open.

The closest bathroom was at the other end of the long hallway. Even while running, it

should have taken at least ten seconds; however, this guy got me into the girls' restroom and

over a toilet in what felt like three and a half seconds.

It felt so cliche to have him hold my hair back while I retched. It was embarrassing,

though. I hoped this part would never have to be discussed… What was I thinking? I had

just been attacked by my English teacher and I was more humiliated by a stranger watching

me vomit?

After a few more painful dry heaves, I slumped backward. My hair fell around my

shoulders and my eyelids drooped. I was tired and drained. All I wanted was for all of this to

be a dream.

“W-what are you doing? Hey, wake up! Damn it, stay awake!” The raspiness of his

voice grew worse when he yelled.

I opened my mouth to say “No!” but no sound came out.

“Let her rest. She will come around eventually.” An elderly woman's voice said

impatiently, “It was obviously traumatic, so it may take a while before she can discuss what

happened.” There was the sound of a door closing with a sharp click. I opened my eyes a

little bit and groaned at the bright light.

“Oh!” The old lady peeped and shuffled over. This wasn't my room. This wasn't my

house. I saw the nametag of the school nurse. So it really did happen. I sat up and my head

reeled, and everything spun violently. I let myself drop back down onto the stiff plastic

covered bed. “Are you up to explaining what happened, or do you still need time to

recover?” The nurse asked in that sweet old lady voice.

“M'yeah, sure. I'll tell `em…” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.

The nurse nodded and added, “Once they're done asking you what happened, they'll

let you go wait while they speak to your parents.” The nod I made may have looked more

like a small twitch. I couldn't be too sure. I was still exhausted.

There wasn't much to tell, but I told them everything. They recorded the story with a

digital recorder. They seemed surprised by the fact that I had agreed to tell them such a short

time afterward. I was too. My mouth still tasted sour and my stomach ached and growled. As

they escorted me outside and into my parents' black Ford Taurus, I could guess what they

were thinking. They were thinking that the shock of the entire experience hadn't hit me yet.

They were right, too.

It was twilight and I was surprised that I had been out for so long. Then men who

questioned me were already walking back toward the school. I looked around the parking

lot. Aside from the three police cars, ambulance, and my own little, green '97 Ford Escort,

there was one other car that I did not recognize.

Parked about ten spaces away from me sat a burgundy '92 Cadillac Seville. It looked

as if it had been found in a junkyard. The dull paint was severely peeled and the hubcaps

were missing. The driver's side door had been replaced, seeing as it was a deep blue color,

unlike the rest of the car.

With the blue door wide open, blaring music echoed all around the area. Sitting on

the hood of the car was that junior guy. He was so tall that his feet were still able to touch

the ground. His hair was dark brown, but only one shade away from black. He took a drag

on his cigarette and exhaled. He stared down at the glowing ashes and seemed deep in

thought.

I broke my gaze and leaned over to look through the rear view mirror. My

appearance was worse than I thought. My black and bleached hair was tangled and my eye

makeup was smeared. I was paler than usual and on the nape of my neck was a striking red

hickey. My stomach turned over and I felt sick again, but there was nothing left in my

stomach to heave.

There was a sharp rap on my window that made me jump. It was the junior… Had

he known I was staring at him just a moment ago? As I unlocked the door and opened it, I

asked myself why I cared so much.

He bent down and said, “I just looked over and saw you start to freak out.”

“Oh… Really?” Why couldn't I think of anything better to say?

“Yeah. You okay?” There was no worried tone in his voice. He asked like it was any