Author Topic: The Unexpected  (Read 848 times)

Offline solitary_writer

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 13
The Unexpected
« on: December 16, 2010, 10:23:12 AM »
Fay walks down the eerily quiet locker lined hall to the same boring fate as before…detention. A fate to sit bored for a few hours in a classroom with a teacher that doesn’t really want to be there.
She walks into the classroom for detention, sitting down at a desk and pulling out a notebook to write in. The teacher, Mr. Alex Elliott, looks at her unhappily as he grades papers. He looks at her over his glasses.

“What is your name miss?” he asks as he shifts a paper to the graded pile on his already cluttered desk. Still looking over his glasses at her.

“Its Fay sir.” She replies starting to doodle just a bit, not letting her eyes stray from the page while under his gaze.

“Miss you should find something constructive to do other than wasting supplies. Otherwise I can have you copy from one of those.” Mr. Elliott states to Fay as he points to the dictionaries aligned up against the far wall.

“I am going to write in sir.” Fay sarcastically says starting to write in her journal.

“Good” Mr. Elliott states unhappily still grading the ever monstrous pile of papers.

After a bit of writing Fay stops writing and starts to fumble threw her bag looking for something. After finding and putting it into her hand, she returns to writing. As she writes she starts to clench her fingers making it squeeze into her hand. Trying to keep it hidden under her desk as it cuts into the palm of her hand, drawing some blood. Mr. Elliott glances up at her and notices some drops of fresh blood on the floor under her desk.

“Miss Fay…”, He jumps up from his desk rushing over to where she is seated, “…What are you doing to yourself?”

“Why do you ask sir?” she asks calmly, making the object dig more into her hand while she writes.

“Well I am very concerned.” Looking at her very worried by seeing the drops of blood under her desk not knowing what she is doing to herself.

“Why?” the only other noise, other than the two of them speaking, is the scratching of her pencil on the paper in her journal as she continues to write.

“Miss Fay you are bleeding all over my floor.” Grabbing at her wrist as he speaks, slightly annoyed at her very calm and sarcastic attitude, trying to pry open her fingers. Fay clenches them down taking her wrist back from his grasp.

“Give it to me.” He commands standing with his hand out open in front of her. She ignores his orders and continues making her pencil glide over the pages of her journal. He takes her wrist again.

“Now” he demands with more authority, sternly looking down at her. She sits in her desk her pen still going over the page, knowing he might pry open her fingers again if she does not obey his very strict command. She loosens her grip so he can take the razor. Mr. Elliott takes the razor from her hand, wiping it off, his gaze falls on to her.

“Why do you have this? This is a weapon and is not authorized in the school.” Keeps his gaze on her as he holds up the razor.

“My friend put it into my bag. I was looking for something else sir.” Fay tells him calmly, writing as if nothing has happened. Her hand resting on the desk, making a small pool of crimson on the desk top.

Mr. Elliott sighs putting the razor down on his desk, going over to the first aid kit to get a band aid for the wound on Fay’s palm. Walking back over to her desk.

“Like what miss?” looking at her unhappily as he cleans up and bandages the cut.

“I was looking for my stress ball to squeeze sir.” Now looking up at him, meeting his gaze with her own.

“But this is not a stress ball Miss Fay.”, almost finished bandaging her hand, “Wouldn’t you realize that it wasn’t that item when you squeezed it?” He asks now finished with her hand, placing it back down onto the desk top.

“I…I…I wasn’t thinking sir.” She tells him looking down at her journal to escape his gaze.

‘Why do I get the one that wears her uniform all wrong just to get into trouble? She was not thinking, Huh, I think that she is slightly disturbed.’ He thinks to himself as he makes his way back to sit down behind his paper cluttered desk.

“Miss Fay you do know your uniform is inappropriate.” Glancing over her current dress over his glasses.

“How so sir?” she asks not bothering to look up from her writing at him.

“Your skirt is to short and your top is to low cut and tight fitting for you. You do understand what the boys see when they look at how you are dressed right?” he asks grading the monstrous stack of papers.

“Oh is that right sir and what is it that they see when they look at me?” still writing occasionally starting to doodle on part of the paper.

“Yes, when they see you dressed, dressed like that, their hormones get turned up and they start to think inappropriate things.” He stops shuffling the papers into the graded pile and looks at Fay. She continues to write, feeling his eyes watching her, as she tries to not fidget in her seat while under his gaze. Staying ever silent the only noise you can hear ringing threw the stale air of the classroom is the scratching of the pencil and the shuffling of papers.

“What are you writing Miss Fay?” he asks watching her with curiosity.

“Why, are you afraid that I am writing something about you?” she sarcastically asks still feverishly writing. Ignoring the cramping in her hand as she continues, not even bothering to look up at her teacher.

“No, not unless it is something derogative,” he almost chuckles “why? Are you writing something derogative about me?” his tone switching from fun and amused to strict and serious.

“No” her pen stops dead on the page as she looks up from the journal to her teacher.

“Well do you have something else that is appropriate to change into?” glancing at her current dress as he shifts a few papers to a new pile on his desk. Fay nods as if her words are stuck in her throat and unable to come out of her mouth.

“Good you can change in the women’s restroom and then come straight back here.” He tells her in an almost serious tone as he grades more papers, putting the already graded ones into neat piles on his already cluttered desk. Fay gets up and goes over to his desk, journal in hand.

“Here sir, I thought you might want to read it.” Putting the journal down on the desk and walking out of the classroom to go change. Mr. Elliott slowly opens her journal which now lies on his desk. Reading it as she changes into something more appropriate. Closing and setting the journal down to wait for Fay to return after finishing the last sentence. She stays in the bathroom a while longer, trying to calm down her nerves before returning. Hitting the wall of the bathroom out of frustration. He hears the banging, quickly getting up from his seat and rushing to the women’s bathroom. Standing just outside the closed door.

“Miss Fay? What are you doing in there?” he questions opening the door, just as she rushes past him heading back to the classroom. Picking up her journal, going back to her seat to write. Opens the journal, frantically flipping through the pages to find an empty page. After nearly passing the last couple of blank pages, she writes hurriedly across the page. Her pencil speeding over the page. Mr. Elliott, her teacher calmly walks through the already open door to the classroom.

“Hitting the wall is not much better Fay.” Watching her frantically write as he closes the space between them. Taking a seat right in front of her desk.

“Please stop…” , he places his hands over hers trying to stop her frantic movements, “we only have an hour left and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Alright” she complies with a slight nod. He looks at her very concerned, his hands still over hers.

“Why do you harm yourself? Why are you so hard on yourself? You look so unhappy, such a beautiful young lady, such as yourself should not be this unhappy.” He looks at her, looking straight into her eyes. She bites her lip looking directly at him.

“Please tell me. I can help.” Looking at her with a gentle smile.

“I don’t harm myself, not willingly at least.” Fay says as she gets up going over to the window.

“So what you have written in your journal is true?” he looks at her slightly shocked, unmoving from his seat. Fay nods.

“You need to call the police.” He tells her quickly getting up and going over to the phone. She closes the space between her and the phone, taking hold of it before he can dial.

“No, sir please don’t.” Fay almost pleads.

“Please Fay, I read how he abuses you mentally, physically, emotionally and sexually. You really need to call the police.” His hand slowly reaching into his desk drawer for his cell phone as he watches her. She still holds the phone, biting her lip.

“I just can’t sir.” She slowly puts down the phone.

“Why can’t you?” pulling his hand from out of his desk drawer, noticing the marks and scars on the exposed flesh of her body.

”I have nowhere to go.” She sadly states.

“Well there are shelters and other places you can go.” holding out his open arms to her, “you’re what 18….19 now? You can get a job and live on your own.”

“I’m 19 sir.” Staring at him unmoving from her spot.

Mr. Elliott watches her still very concerned about her well being. Fay stands at only 5’ 1” and is slender for her age. He looks over at her trying to figure out how to help her. He has kept his eye on her for a while now. She has been in detention for the fourth time this week. Her grades have been steadily going downhill. He has wanted to talk to her about why she keeps getting in detention and about the bruises on her arms that she tries so hard to hide. He has had some thoughts about what has been going on but has kept his thoughts to himself. Mr. Elliott now finds that keeping thoughts of what is happening to her was wrong and should have been addressed. He knew that she had a boyfriend but he did not know that he abused her. Mr. Elliott himself only stood 6’ 2” and had a good build. He was slim for being only 23 years old.

“I am sorry sir but Koda will not allow my leaving.” Fay states now standing by the window, looking out across the parking lot.

“Why won’t he let you leave?” Mr. Elliott hesitantly asks.

“I- I’m his property. H-he won’t leave. He will come…” her sentence trails off as she sees Koda walking across the parking lot to the school.

“What is the matter Fay?” he questions getting up and walking over to where she stands to look out with her.

“It’s Koda.” She points, putting her finger on the glass of the window.
Mr. Elliott looks out the window, spying Koda walking towards the entrance of the school.

“What is he doing here?” he quietly questions, watching Koda disappear into the building.

“He’s here for me. He won’t leave without me.” She states with fear in her already shaky voice as she sinks to the floor. He walks over to the door, sticking his head out, hearing Koda banging on the walls and lockers as he walks down the hallway. He steps back inside and locks the door. Turning around and seeing Fay on the floor with her back against the wall and her knees pulled into her chest.  Mr. Elliott walks over and sits down next to her, placing an arm around her shaking shoulders. Fay leans into him, still a little shaky. He puts his arms around her, holding her tight as he tries to calm a student he cares dearly for.

“Fay I will not let him hurt you anymore.” He quietly whispers into her ear.

“I-I need to tell him it’s over.” She replies standing up.

“I cannot allow you to go and face him by yourself.” He stands up facing her.

“If you wish to come then fine. But Koda can’t see you otherwise he will not talk to me.” She looks up at her very concerned teacher.

“Alright, but if he tries anything to harm you I am going to step in.” he unlocks and opens the door for her.
She steps out into the hallway. Mr. Elliott steps out behind her, but stays hidden in the doorway. Koda walks down the hall furiously.

“Fay! Where have you been?” He questions with anger in his voice.

“I’ve been in detention Koda.” She answers trying to mask the fear inside her.

“You should be at home with me. That is where you belong.” Koda states bitterly stepping closer to Fay.

“It’s over Koda. I’m done with you” she confidently tells him.
Koda stands just inches in front of her face.

“You belong with me remember.” Taking hold of her wrist and pulling her closer to him.

“No Koda” she yells, yanking her wrist from his grasp. “I don’t belong with you. It’s done Koda. It’s over between us.”

“Don’t you ever say that, your mine.” He raises his voice in anger and smacks Fay across the face with the back of his hand. Smacking her hard enough that it leaves a red mark and sends her to the floor.
Koda raises back for another blow, but before he can lay it on her Mr. Elliott catches his wrist mid swing.

“Do not touch her again.” The teacher tells Koda in a very serious tone.

“What are you going to do about it?” the boyfriend sarcastically asks the teacher.
The teacher moves to where Koda’s face is just inches from his own.

“I will call the police and let them come take you away.” He informs the boyfriend as he sees the
fear in Koda’s eyes. The boyfriend pulls away from the teacher.

“Yeah whatever, I’m out of here.” Koda turns and stalks away. Hitting a locker one last time before he disappeared out the doors.
Mr. Elliott turns around to help Fay up, putting out his hand to her.

“Are you alright?” he asks as she takes his hand and is pulled to her feet.

“Yeah I’m alright” she looks up to her caring teacher and smiles, “Thanks.”

“Would you like to stay with me?” Mr. Elliott finally asks. Knowing that if Fay says yes she will finally be safe.
« Last Edit: December 16, 2010, 12:50:43 PM by solitary_writer »

Offline Alice, a Country Gal

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 31219
  • Hello from Texas
    • Alice's Hide Away
Re: The Unexpected
« Reply #1 on: December 16, 2010, 11:25:07 AM »
If you click the modify button on the upper right of your screen, you can go into your post and add some white space between paragraphs.

This makes it easier to read online and you will most likely have more members willing to read as a result and if they are faced with a large block of text when they open this.

MWC Charity Publications.>
The universe is made of stories, not of atoms. -Muriel Rukeyser, poet and activist (15 Dec 1913-1980)

R. L. Copple's:

I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.
-Mohandas K. Gandhi