Chapter 21 #2
“I’m having a horrible fucking day,” I snapped, almost surprising myself with the venom in my tone. But I couldn’t make myself regret it, even if it was an inappropriate show of emotion to have in front of my professor.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
What a bullshit response. I just shrugged, keeping my arms crossed.
“I saw you leave class early,” he commented. So he did notice me. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”
“Well I have another class soon and I don’t have time to go home.” I looked away from him, checking if there was anyone watching this conversation. But there still wasn’t anyone nearby. Maybe he only recognized my presence when there weren’t other people around.
I was a secret.
“I’ve got a couch in my office. I won’t be in there, but you’re welcome to lay down for an hour or so.”
The telltale sting of tears sprung up in my eyes as they snapped back to meet his. My emotions were all over the place, and his offer shocked me.
“What?”
“If you need some time to yourself, you can stay in there.”
“I didn’t even know you had an office here.”
“On the other side of the elevators.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, as in sure?” he questioned, his expression serious.
I was too exhausted and in too much pain to tell him no at this point. The idea of laying down by myself in a quiet, dark room was so relieving that my eyes already felt heavy. I needed that hour away from everything stressing me out.
I nodded.
Dr. Killshaw walked a few paces ahead of me out of the study space, through the hallway with the elevators to the other side, then turned down the corridor and pushed open the last door on the left.
Micah Killshaw, Ph.D., M.S., Professor of Chemical Engineering was on a plaque next to the door.
If I’d ever walked back here, I would’ve seen it.
But I didn’t really have any reason to be in this hallway.
He stepped back to let me walk past him into the office.
“Just shut the door behind you when you leave. No need to lock it.”
I nodded again.
So strange of him to offer. So stupid of me to accept.
I’ve always been weak, though. Begging for scraps.
He lingered in the doorway for a moment too long, strong fingers flexing on the knob. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at him. His voice was low and steady when he spoke again, cutting through to the heart of me.
“Nobody knows how to take care of you, do they?” he murmured, almost to himself more than to me. “And you’ll never let anyone try.”
Dr. Killshaw pulled the door shut, leaving me inside on my own before I could answer.
I was frozen, all my muscles stiff.
And you’ll never let anyone try.
Why would he say that? How could he see through me so well?
It reminded me so exactly of Mason that I had to force all the thoughts away before they consumed me. It was almost exactly what he’d said to me in his car before he suffocated me with his palm.
Dr. Killshaw’s office wasn’t large or especially fancy, but it was nice.
There was a couch with the godforsaken polygon-printed fabric on it, but I assumed he hadn’t picked out most of the furniture in the room.
A window on the right side of the room was dimmed by a rolldown shade, and his desk was neat, some filing cabinets and shelves sitting behind it.
He had all his diplomas hanging on the wall, and I stepped closer to look at them. Bachelor’s, Master’s, Doctorate. I had zero plans to take my chemical engineering schooling beyond these four years, but it was interesting that some people did.
Looking at the graduation years, I worked out that he must’ve been around thirty-four. He hadn’t taken much of a break between the degrees.
There weren’t any photos on his desk, or any personal items I could see beyond the framed diplomas.
It was so weird being in here, especially after the way he’d ignored me.
I wasn’t sure if him suggesting I come rest in here was inappropriate or not. Maybe he was just being a nice, concerned teacher. Not like I’d be able to tell the difference.
Nobody knows how to take care of you…
It smelled faintly of the scent I’d come to associate with him—the one that reminded me of Mason in a way, because I couldn’t describe it correctly. It was similar to Mason’s, but not the same.
I set my bag on the ground, then laid down on the couch on my side, my legs tucked up and my head on the stiff pillow, polyester fabric against my cheek.
My thumb slid over the cracked screen of my phone, setting an alarm so I’d wake up in time to not miss my next class—and to ensure I’d get out of here before Dr. Killshaw came back.
My eyes were tired, my sore body sinking into the couch as sleep pulled at my mind, pulled me under its soft waves.
━━━━━
I blinked my eyelids open, everything blurry and dim, some unknown noise having just startled me from sleep. Lifting my head from the pillow, I sat up quickly, looking around the clean office. What time was it? The sun seemed to be coming into the room at the wrong angle.
I glanced around until I found my phone sitting on the side table next to the couch, my alarm going off on the screen—completely silently. I grappled for my phone, fingers trembling. Great. My next class was about half-over now. I decided just to miss it altogether.
By the time my mind had become lucid enough to realize the sound that’d woken me up was the door handle turning, it was too late.
The door to the office swung open and I heard two voices, one in the hall and one belonging to Dr. Killshaw as he entered.
I whipped my head around, tugging at the hem of my shirt and trying to run my fingers through my hair to smooth it.
My heart started beating hard and uneven, my body feeling shaky. I hated that I was waking up to this.
“That’s what I was telling him,” the hallway voice said.
“We’ll have to catch up next week, I’ve got—” My professor’s eyes connected with mine and he froze. I put the pillow back in place, nervously planting my feet on the floor and straightening my shoulders, trying to portray confidence. “…meetings. I’ll see you later.”
“Good talking with you, Micah.”
“Yeah.”
Dr. Killshaw shut the door, still looking at me, like he really hadn’t expected me to still be here. My fingers automatically reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear, to mess with my heart locket.
“I slept through my class,” I said quickly, before he could ask, before he could say something to make me feel small. I hoped there weren’t lines on my cheek from the pillow. “On accident.”
Disappointment filtered through his expression.
And I couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take another fucking person looking at me like I’d let them down when I’d done nothing to deserve it.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor. Sometimes students are tired. I didn’t mean to,” I snapped, crossing my arms, subconsciously trying to hide from him. To protect myself from whatever comment he’d make about me. To brace for it.
“I didn’t say a single thing about it,” he answered, no intonation in his voice, as he went to sit behind his desk. I stayed where I was on the couch.
“You didn’t have to.” My words came out clipped as I scanned the room with narrowed eyes, trying to gain a sense of my surroundings again. We weren’t on even ground here.
“No?”
“I can tell you hate me without you saying a word,” I bit out. All my thoughts had sharpened into little blades, ready to cut him before he could cut me.
His stare made me feel cornered, trapped, small.
Prey.
I struggled in the brief silence after my words, my confidence spilling away as I tried to hold it tighter.
“How did you come to that conclusion?” he asked, completely calm, totally collected. Unaffected, as I wished I could be.
“You blatantly ignore me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is!” I shot to my feet, feeling volatile. “I try to talk to you and you—you cut me off! Or you talk to someone else and not me.”
“Is that what I do? What makes you think the behavior you’re claiming to witness from me is unusual? Why do you believe I’ve directed anything towards you?”
My head was spinning and I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t control my reaction to him.
He was doing this on purpose. He was trying to gaslight me, to manipulate me, to make me hate myself more and more and more.
That was all anyone ever tried to do to me.
He was fucking lying. He knew it. He knew what he was doing.
You want me to think I’m crazy, but I’m not.
I’m not fucking crazy.
“Because you switch back and forth. Sometimes you act like I don’t exist, and sometimes you act differently.”
“Enlighten me. How do I act differently?”
“Why are you asking me?” I crossed my arms again, hiding my chest like an angry child.
“Because you’re the one accusing me of hating you.”
“In the polymers lab on the second day, you spoke to everyone in my group except me. You addressed everyone by name and asked them about how the data collection was going, but you didn’t say a word to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I spluttered in disbelief. Don’t try to make me doubt my own mind.
“How did I act on the first day that made you believe the second one was so unusual?” He tilted his head, his scent thickening in the room, making my mind muddled.
My chest was rising and falling fast, my muscles trembling, my stomach hurting from lack of food, my vision spotty. The same cramps from earlier were digging into my back.
“Well, you were looking at me. Like you—I don’t know.”
“Like I what?”
“I don’t know.” Like you wanted to figure out the inside of my head, and take my clothes off while you were at it.
“I wanted to offer you a part time position as a student worker for my research,” he explained.
I blinked. “What? How was I supposed to know that?”
“You weren’t. But I didn’t think you’d be making other, completely unfounded assumptions about me when I looked at you.”
It was such a specifically cruel way of putting words in my mouth, masked by a professional tone. It was as if he was trying to make me feel dumb and naive.
“Were you thinking about your research in the elevator too?” I asked, words cutting.
“You think I was looking at you then, too?”
“I know you were.” I knew I was pushing lines now, making a complete fool of myself, but I couldn’t stop. He’d broken some dam and I couldn’t keep any of my messy thoughts inside. I threw all my vulnerability at him like knives, already slick with my own blood.
“Looking at you…and what?”
“Like you wanted something from me.” The words were out now, and I could never take them back. I was skinning myself alive in his office, exposing all my secret thoughts against my own will. Weak. “And if you want it, I’ll g—”
“Get out of my office.”
The sheer darkness in his voice stole my breath.
“Or what?” I pushed.
“You know I could get you expelled.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face, my mouth dropping open and my cheeks burning. I took a fearful step backwards as he rose to his full height, towering over me.
“Were you or were you not about to proposition me for sex?” He stepped around his desk, slowly prowling towards me.
My stomach turned. His hands were casually shoved in his pockets, but his stance was the farthest thing from casual.
It was misleading. I was practically choking on the scent coming off him now.
“I—”
“If I wanted you, you’d know,” he bit out, still approaching. “If I wanted to fuck you in my office, you think I might’ve invited you to stay when I was actually going to be in here.”
My heart was beating so hard I felt sick.
Regret made me lightheaded.
It struck me in that moment just how severe the imbalance was between us.
He could say anything he wanted to me, and all I could do was take it.
I’m so stupid.
I’m always so fucking stupid.
I was starting to hyperventilate, still walking backwards, nausea rising in my throat. My back bumped into the door and I startled at the feel of it, so solid behind me.
I need to leave. I need to get out of here right now. I can’t be here another a second or I’m going to suffocate.
Dr. Killshaw continued his advance, so I snatched my bag, then turned and ran out of his office as fast as I could, slamming the door shut behind me, breathing clean air in huge gulps.
I darted down the hall and barreled into the door for the staircase, almost tripping over my feet as I dashed down flight after flight of stairs, trying to escape what I’d just done.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m falling, and there’s nothing for me to grab onto. I’m surrounded by empty air and my stomach is twisted and I can’t breathe correctly because of how fast I’m falling and I’m not sure when I’ll hit the ground.
Why am I so easy to hurt?