Chapter 11 #2
I walk out of the library and enter into the field of other students huddled in the hallways.
I walk down the corridors until I reach my last class of the day, the hinges on the old wood door groan and I plop in my seat that's closest to the back.
I pull out my notes from yesterday's lecture and lay them in front of me.
Composition is one of my least favorite classes.
It seems no matter how much I perfect it in my art someone else will always view it differently.
Such as the brute professor Blackwell, he says it's one of my worst attributes, but secretly I think he's a self centered male that thinks women can’t do more than cook in the kitchen.
He’s an old head with little to no hope in women and for that he can kiss my ass.
Students begin to sit around me and the room fills with laughter or small talk. I don’t try to engage with anyone. It seems wherever I go I give off a miscreant persona or they think I'm weird for carrying around Amos. For them it's hard to understand a girl with personality and her own thoughts.
I tuck my hands under my chin as I look up at the professor.
His demeanor is nothing nice; an unkept beard, long torso but short legs, and unruly hair to match his curling mustache.
He appears as though he's just crawled out of a hole in the earth, yet he instructs at Grimmwood. A place of prestige and wealth.
“Today we’ll begin discussing how to properly shape lines and create imagery that's easy for the naked eye to see. Pull out a sketch pad and pencil.” Blackwell's gruff voice is stern and everyone pulls out their notebooks.
He’s the kind of teacher no one wants to test and I figured I might as well follow along if I wanted to graduate as soon as possible.
“Turn your paper landscape ways and begin drawing brief lines, don’t make them dark, use as little pressure as possible.” He says and begins doing the same on the board.
I pull out a sketch pencil and lightly trace lines onto my paper. I have no idea how this will help but I’ll do anything to make the time tick faster. One minute closer to leaving and going to Windale to talk to Lilith.
“If you continue to sit with a slouch, people will think you're guilty of something.” A girl clicks her tongue beside me and I turn to her, confused.
“What?” My tone is not soft but not rude either.
Her pale brown eyes are focused on me and I look at the pink makeup on her cheeks. Her blonde hair is cut to her shoulders and she wears a bear sweater over her school uniform. She’s really pretty, she’s got that small town girl vibe but I’m so confused as to why she’s talking to me.
“If you sit with a slouch all your life, people will think you’re guilty of something plus it ruins your posture.” Her voice is matter of fact as she pushes her blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Well lucky for them I don’t give a damn.” I chuckle and roll my eyes.
What’s her problem?
“Sorry I wasn’t trying to be rude. I should've just asked you what your name was but I have no common sense or lessons on how to make friends,” she says as she pulls her pencil down along her paper, her eyes flicking to mine.
“Sylvia. What’s yours?” I mumble because once she finds out just how boring or blunt I am she’ll leave me alone.
“Your name is so pretty! I’m Lori. It’s so nice to meet you,” she says as she reaches her hand out toward me.
I hesitate before I place my cold hand in her warm one.
Her smile brightens and I let go of her hand as fast as I grabbed it.
She probably thinks I’m weird from the way I'm looking at her.
My eyebrows are high on my forehead and my eyes scan her with curiosity.
Amos purrs in his carrier below me and I look down at him the same time she does.
“Cute cat, what’s their name?” Lori coos as she pokes her finger through Amos' carrier. Amos betrays me and softly licks her finger before rubbing against it.
“Uh…his name is Amos.” I scratch the back of my head awkwardly and she nods. She retracts her hand and looks at me.
“Awe, that's such a cute name. I love it.” A blush heats my cheeks at her words and I smile.
“Thank you.” It’s been so long since I’ve encountered anyone nice so her kindness is surprising to me. I don’t even know how to make friends. Alistair appeared and it just happened.
I do like her though. She’s sweet, seems fun, and doesn’t seem like she’d tolerate anyone's nonsense.
“So, how long have you lived here?” I ask her, not knowing what to say.
“All my life, I was born and raised in Grimmwood. I know you must be new. Where’d you come from?” Her voice is as sweet as honey and makes my tense shoulders relax.
“I’m from a few towns over, Windale.” I say and look up at the professor. He’s rambling on but I barely hear him as Lori starts to talk again.
“I think I’ve heard of it, another small town?” She asks and spins her pencil between her fingers.
“Yep.” The p pops from my lips and she nods.
“Miss. Swan, detention.” My head snaps to the voice of my professor, my eyes widening.
“Why?” My voice is slightly raised and I lean forward in shock as I stare at the brute professor.
“For talking. See you at 1:15 in detention.” Professor Blackwell says as he turns to the rest of the class.
I stare at him in disbelief and spin to Lori in anger. She whispers an apology and looks down at her paper. Her pale cheeks turn a dark crimson and my anger vanishes. I can’t be mad, I was indeed talking.
“You got detention in your first week? No way.” Alistair exhales with a chuckle as he finishes speaking and I can’t help but giggle.
“Sure did.” I say and thread my fingers through my long hair. “Professor Blackwell seems to hate my guts.”
He laughs and pushes his bag higher up his shoulder. “Well I guess I’ll catch you later.”
“Ok, sorry I can’t walk home with you.” Before he can respond to me, someone steps beside us. Her short blonde hair catches my attention and I instantly know who it is.
“Lori, you okay?” Alistair eyebrows shift as he turns his blue eyes to her, confusion settling in his gaze.
“Hey Sylvia, I want to apologize. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d actually give you detention. I was…” I cut her off with a wave of my hand.
“It’s really ok. Blackwell hates my guts, I saw it coming.” I mumble.
Alistair's gaze shifts to me and a small smile brightens his cheeks.
“Really? Well I’m still so sorry.” Lori places her hand on my shoulder and the skin underneath her touch crawls, not with disgust but with something foreign.
I shrug her hand off and smile. “It’s ok. I best get going before he extends my thirty minutes to an hour.”
Alistair pets Amos and waves goodbye. His frame shifts through students with precision and he disappears as fast as he comes.
“See you later! I still want to be best friends.” Lori says and tilts her head with a smile before she walks away. Her vanilla perfume drifts to my nose as she sashays down the corridor with determination.
I tweak my eyebrows and shrug. She sure is a strange girl.
My walk to detention is uneventful and I take a seat close to the back at one of the wooden desks.
I place Amos beside me in a seat, he purrs and I open the gate to his carrier.
He doesn’t exit, just stretches until his head pokes out.
I ruffle the hair between his ears to ease his nerves as well as mine.
A few other students walk in and sit toward the front.
They either place their head down on the desk to go to sleep or pull out textbooks to study.
I look around the large room. It smells of aged chalk and dust, as if everything that is forgotten in the academy is cramped into this one room.
Even though it’s a place visited frequently by other students, the air remains cold.
The furnace isn’t lit and it doesn’t seem they care to heat this room for us.
The white walls with no windows bore into me and I release a breath.
Damn, this is going to feel like an eternity.
I tap my boots against the wood floors. It echoes but not loud enough to bother the other pupils. I look down at the desk and the word forgotten is carved into the oak.
It’s a simple word with lots of meaning. Everyday someone is forgotten, everyday a person loses their soul forgetting who they are, and my mother was simply forgotten in that town.
Father wants to forget her. The town wants to bury her death and erase all memories of it, like every other person that died there unexpectedly. Yet I can’t forget. I will never forget.
The smell of lavender eases into my senses and my eyes close.
I see her handwriting on that newspaper clipping, ‘Lilith knows’.
What does she know? Does she know who killed my mother?
Does she know why he wanted to leave it all behind?
My jaw clenches and my fists ball around nothing but air.
There’s so much anger raging inside of me and I don’t know what to do with it. Why am I angry?
Amos climbs onto my lap, sensing the mess building inside of me. He places his paw on my hand and his beautiful brass eyes meet mine. A tear falls from my eye onto his fur but he doesn't stop watching me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper with a voice so broken it only makes me grip the side of my skirt.
I feel so weak mentally and physically. When I do find out who hurt her, what will I do? I can’t do anything as a girl in that town. They don’t believe in women fighting for what's right, our words mean nothing to them. We’re silenced.
A chair creaks behind me but I don’t care enough to turn around. Amos' eyes shift to the person and his body goes tense but I still don’t dare to look, not with tears running down my face.
The determined red circles around the name Lilith still hover in my vision. I wonder if she will even tell me anything?
A sharp tug to my hair pulls me back to the class again and my neck cracks as I’m forced to look at the person behind me. His black eyes meet mine and a sadistic smirk rises on his cheeks.
“I love seeing these green eyes cry for me, Little Swan.” The smell of wintergreen from his breath fans across my face because of how close we are.
“Screw off, I’m not in the mood for your theatrics.” I curl my lip in disgust and try to pull my head up. His grip tightens and a snarl settles on his lips.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re in the mood or not.
I just want to see this pretty little face.
” A humorless chuckle leaves his throat and he leans closer.
His lips lightly trace over the exposed skin of my neck before his hot tongue comes out and over my Adams apple. A shudder wracks through me and I gulp.
What the hell?
“What are you doing?” You can hear the obvious panic in my voice and I hold Amos tight so he doesn’t react.
“Something I’ve been wanting to do since I first saw you, tasting what’s mine.”
I squirm in my chair, a chill drifts from the spot he licked down to my core. I can’t tell if I’m uncomfortable or turned on but I want it to stop.
“I’m not yours. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that to get it through your brain. Now let me go.”
My hand comes up and grips the curls of his hair.
It’s soft in my palms and another chill resonates through me.
I yank on his head, trying to free myself as well as get him off of me but he doesn’t bulge.
A groan leaves his throat as he releases my hair and I propel out of my seat.
My knees are wobbly below me but I manage to stand and place Amos lightly in his carrier.
I hurry and zip it up before he has time to escape and turn to the menace behind me.
“You pervert!” I yell and my hand goes up before I can stop myself, but he catches it.
A gleam settles in his eyes as he turns my hand in his grip. A sharp pain threads from my pinky to my elbow and I wince. I turn and look at all the other pupils but they don’t look out of fear. My gaze turns back to him, my hair blocking half of my vision.
He shakes his head gently as I open my mouth to say something and I stop.
“You’re only making my cock harder, Little Swan, I’d stop if I were you. You’re the one putting on theatrics.”
I bit my lip in anger and to stop myself from spewing more shit that’s only going to stir him more. A tear falls from my eye and I look down as it falls. I’m so weak, so confused. How am I going to solve her case if I can’t even beat a bully?
“Sylvia.” He tsks and lets go of my hand. It drops to my side with defeat and he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. The sound of my name coming off his tongue makes my eyes snap to his.
“Don’t cry anymore unless it's for me.” His touch is gentle as his hand slides down my cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it but don’t cry unless they’re tears for me.”
His sudden change of heart startles me and I step back. The bell goes off signaling the end of the first thirty minutes. I grab my satchel and Amos from the stools, my hands moving faster than my brain can.
“See you later, my little swan.” I can hear the smile in his voice and my insides churn at how mockingly he says that nickname he’s given me.
I walk down each step until I’m at the front of the class, far away from him before I look back.
He waves and a sadistic smile settles on his full lips. I realize just how stunning he is and my heart skips a beat. Who is this guy and what does he want from me?
I step out of that classroom before I let any more thoughts about Kian break me. I can’t let him take the last thing I do own, my dignity so I won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking of him and those damn tattoos that litter his body.