Chapter 3 #2
“I mean what point was there in signalling me out specifically? Because I was a couple of minutes late?” I give him a knowing look. “I wasn't the only late person though, so why me?”
He smooths his tie down his chest again, a disinterested look on his face.
“Ms. Bane, I already-” He starts, before I cut him off.
“Yes, I guess someone with issues like yours wouldn’t need a real reason to behave the way you do,” I add with a smile as Mr. Finch’s face flushes red. His eyes turn to pinpricks as the wrinkles around his lips grow.
“Listen here, Ms. Bane-” He grits out before I cut him off again.
“I have. I‘ve heard you. Loud. And. Clear.”
His eyes meet mine, the words drying up in his throat and crease growing deeper in his brows the longer he stares at me.
I slowly turn around and make my way toward the only available seats at the back of the class, the students originally there having taken all the middle section spaces.
Surprised looks and whispers ring out as I take the nearest available seat, and right beside Mr. Tall, dark and broody himself.
It was the only available space and he was asleep anyway so who cared?
Apparently him.
He sits up, noticing my presence, a brow raised as our eyes meet.
His head slightly tilts to the right, his loose brown hair falling to the side with the small movement and showing off the dark ink crawling up his neck.
His piercing blue eyes trail down my body and back up, a crease now furrowing his dark brows.
He takes a small object from his pocket, flicking it back and forth as he watches me, before leaning toward me.
“That's my seat.” His voice is gruff and husky, with a dark threatening undertone.
He clearly didn't like company, but I had already put up with one asshole for today.
I meet his cold gaze before glancing toward the seat he's sitting on.
“Looks like you already have one.”
His brows raise, his eyes slightly widening as a dark smile stretches his perfectly full lips.
He continues to flick, what I now can see, is a very sharp pocket knife.
“They’re all mine, sweetheart. You see, I like my space. I don't share.”
He gives me a grin that would have Mr. Finch peeing himself.
“I like to stretch,” he flicks his blade out further, and closer toward me. “And I would hate for one of my blades to hit you.” His expression begs to differ.
I glance around the room, pointing toward a large open space on the floor to the front of the class.
“There's lots of space for you to stretch down there.”
He glances toward the area before a chuckle falls from his lips, one so dark and deranged, it has Mr. Finch flinching at the front of the class and other students huddling closer to their desks.
His grin widens, his teeth glistening as his stare grows feral.
He shifts quickly, darting his hand toward me, and before I know it, there's the sharp tip of a blade touching the skin on my cheek. The cold metal presses against me further as he leans in closer, his breath tickling across my face as he opens his mouth.
“Don’t you know who you’re fucking with?
” His words are cold, reflecting the dark threat in his eyes, one promising pain.
A deranged look that you would only see in a wild animal having been backed into a corner one too many times.
One that's been pushed to its limits and now reflects only the darkness and brutality it's seen and been shown time and time again.
“Enlighten me.” I stare into his piercing blue eyes and lean closer to him, my gaze unwavering as the blade slightly grazes my cheek.
Whatever pain he could inflict on me, would never be as bad as what I’d already been through.
His eyes widen as a small wet trickle falls down my cheek and a single red droplet makes its way onto the floor between us.
I lean in closer to him, just a fraction of space between us now as our noses almost touch. “Or get used to sharing.”
I pull back, straightening myself in my seat as Mr. Finch writes something on the board.
A loud husky laugh rings out beside me, the whole class falling silent with Mr. Finch dropping his marker and stumbling to pick it up again.
The boy looks at me, his gaze a little less cutting as he wipes his eyes.
He takes the blade, placing it to his lips as he licks the small droplets of blood away, his gaze never leaving mine as his look becomes more curious than cold.
Then he places the small blade back into his pocket.
“It's been a while since I’ve had anything fun to play with.” A wicked smile spreads across his lips, “And just when I was getting bored, too.”
His eyes trail down my frame before flickering back toward my gaze.
He slowly leans back down on the desk, resting his head on his arms, his gaze unflinching as he watches me.
He gives me one last crazed grin before slowly closing his eyes again.
Other than a few quick curious glances and some light whispers, the rest of the class continues without a problem.
Mr. Finch continues his lesson, a little more nervous than when it began, and I get to enjoy over an hour and a half of ‘ World History’ in all its boring glory.
Another thing I hated about my previous life, the classes.
I yawn, stretching a little as I lift myself up with the ring of the class bell, and make my way to the door.
I grab the sheet with my schedule on it as I make my way outside, and freeze at the words listing my next class, ‘Music of the Arts’ .
It wasn’t the class I had the problem with, but the words following this particular lesson, ‘Group class; 2nd, 3rd and 4th years.’
My half sister Seria was a year below me, so thankfully we didn't have many chances during class times to meet. Except this one.
Every second class, every Monday for an entire year, I would have to see her. This time knowing her smiles and sweet words were all fake. A show or performance to make herself seem innocent and kind to others, hiding her dark malice under a gentle mask.
I head to the class a few doors down and stop just feet from the classroom. A tinkling laughter filters out through the door and I freeze.
Her voice used to always remind me of a fairy or what I’d imagine a mermaid or siren would sound like. So sweet, so angelic.
I truly loved my sister. She had joined our family late, when I was fourteen and she was just thirteen. I had longed for affection and had hoped we would bond as sisters.
I never understood why the few friends I had around me left me after she came, or why their gazes toward me turned cold. Now I do.
Most of the miserable moments I suffered and tears I shed had been some orchestrated scheme or manipulation of hers. She had happily admitted at least that much herself the last time I had seen her before the Facility.
I take a step toward the room, my gaze hardening toward the door as my rage begins to build.
A hard shove slams into my shoulder, making me stumble to the side as the group of male students chuckles echo around the corridor as they leave.
My anger gets pushed to the back of me as I realise where I am, and that the girl through those doors didn’t know I knew she was a fake, evil bitch who deserved every drop of misery she had served me on a platter, and then the whole buffet to follow.
I take a slow breath, calming my anger.
Now wasn’t the time.
I wasn’t strong enough to take her and her lackeys on. I couldn’t even manage to hold my own and not fumble when that group pushed me. There was no way to protect myself from what would come if I took her on now. I was physically too weak.
I had to train first. I had the time now, plenty in fact.
One moment of pain would never make up for what she’s done to me over the years anyway, and of what I’ve suffered because of her.
The most deadliest predator is the one you don't even see coming.
It’ll make it all the sweeter when I come for her, for all of them.
I take another step toward the door, this time much calmer, when suddenly I’m knocked to the side and sent slamming into the wall beside me.
Pain slices through my right shoulder and back, a heavy ache growing in my head from the impact. It dulls my senses, as a figure looms over me.
“What do you think you were doing standing in everyone's way?” A tall blonde boy towers over me, a scowl stretching his features as he glares down at me. He's flanked on both sides by two brawny boys.
The boy with mousy brown hair gives me a twisted grin.
“Maybe she forgot her place…in the gutters.” He sneers, a dark chuckle leaving his lips.
The blonde I now remember was Jeremy Colton, and the mousy haired boy beside him was Jake Andrews. Both of them were wolf shifters and constant tormentors through my academy years.
Jeremy joins Jake in his joke laughing, as the third and most familiar boy just stares at me.
Kane was my childhood friend, he was also a shifter and a jock, part of the school's football team with the other two asses.
We were childhood friends but that was before Seria.
His cold, icy stare seems to agree with me.
A face that once held so much warmth and affection was now wearing a mask of indifference while watching others torment and physically assault me.
Kane turns away and heads toward the class, making his way to Seria and the other three boys I used to call childhood friends.
I turn and watch him leave, wondering if the memories I had of my young childhood were all lies and illusions.
The memories of the five of us flash by my eyes as I watch him make his way to stand beside Xander; one of the five of us playing hide and seek in the forest behind our homes, of building our own small forts and playing by the lake, of smiles and tears and promises of eternal love and friendship.
They had pulled me through a dismal youth and given me some resemblance of a childhood, knowing all too well what my home and family life were like. They were a hope of a better world to a younger me…but not now.
That was before Seria, before the academy and before the Facility.