Ella Frank: Veiled Innocence

I watched her closely as her expression changed, and she gave a cocky grin to the other kids. “But I really did get held up.”

I ground my teeth in frustration. She was impertinent, she was brazen, and right now, she was pushing every single one of my buttons. Lowering my voice, I once again gestured to the hall.

“Outside. Now .”

With an exaggerated sigh, she stepped out into the empty hall and I followed close behind. As the door clicked shut, I noticed the way she dropped the cutesy schoolgirl act and morphed into a much more threatening creature.

I wondered at that moment what I’d done to deserve this. Surely, this was some kind of fucked-up karma because the girl in front of me had the face of a woman that would bring men to their knees.

Men just like me.

“I really was held—”

“Stop talking.”

The smile that crept onto my lips was sly as Mr. McKendrick cut me off.

I wondered for a brief moment what he thought of the skintight jeans that clung to my hips or the black lace tank that had ridden up over my stomach. I also wore a black vinyl jacket with zippers all over it because my mother had made me.

All the better to keep my secrets covered.

“Listen to me very carefully, Addison, because I only plan to say this once.”

He didn’t have to worry. I was listening. So much so that I was lip reading as I memorized his mouth. The same mouth that had become a new fascination of mine.

“I will not put up with this kind of behavior from you or anyone else in my class. Do you understand?”

“You don’t look like a teacher.”

“Excuse me?”

He seemed bewildered, and I liked that, so I continued. “A teacher. You don’t look or dress like one.”

As if I hadn’t spoken at all, he resumed his previous line of conversation.

“I expect you to be in my classroom early or on time. Not one minute after the bell and certainly not ten. It’s not only rude, it disrupts the class that’s already in session. Do I make myself clear?”

His hair wasn’t tied back today but was pushed behind his ears so it hit his shoulders. Dressed in black jeans and a matching long-sleeved, button-down shirt, the picture he made was that of some kind of rocker sex god, not a history teacher.

“Do you like what I’m wearing?”

“Addison, stop trying so hard. No one is out here to see.”

I pouted, thinking over his statement before I shrugged. I was trying hard—to get his attention. “You’re here.”

“Get inside. If you’re late again, I’m not unlocking the door, and you can explain why you are standing out here to Principal Thomas.”

“And what do you think he is going to do?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He really didn’t know how this school ran yet, poor delusional man . I could clearly see just how agitated he was. It was all in his eyes. I daringly stepped closer to him.

“You don’t know it yet,” I said, deciding to enlighten him. “But you will soon enough. I’m his star. I make this school when I step out onto the track, and he won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

I’d never been hunted before, usually I liked the chase, but when Mr. McKendrick leaned down and his eyes narrowed, I felt the adrenaline course through me. Instinctively, I stood my ground, all but daring him to attack.

“I don’t care who you are, young lady. If you turn up late again, I will make sure you are held accountable. Understand? Now get inside, sit down and open your book, and try to remember that you are the student.”

Moving around him, I caught the scent of his cologne. He smelled just the way I imagined hot sex should smell, and I knew that if I stood there long enough, my panties would do nothing to contain the wetness between my thighs. I paused just before opening the door and ran my gaze down his body a final time.

“I will, when you start to resemble a teacher. Oh, and by the way, sir . I like what you’re wearing, just in case you wanted to know.”

I silently followed Addison back into the classroom and noticed finger marks on her shoulder as her bag fell. She quickly shrugged the jacket back into place and went to take her seat. As she aimed her eyes my way, I knew I was in big fucking trouble. The expression in them was definitely not that of a student facing her teacher.

Brandon stretched across the aisle to whisper something in her ear, and as I studied them together, her focus never wavered from me. His lips brushed so close to her hair that I caught a strand of it move with his breath, and I couldn’t seem to turn away.

Imagining instead, the unthinkable—me in Brandon’s place.

I tried to convince myself that my interest in her was nothing more than annoyance, but after the conversation in the hall, I had to reevaluate my own judgment.

Why was I allowing her to get under my skin? And what did she mean about me not dressing like a teacher? Maybe I needed to change something, present a different front?

Or maybe , I needed to stop letting her play me because that was what she was doing…or trying to do. Play me like a fucking game.

A very dangerous game.

Present…

Memories are the only thing keeping me sane.

It’s surprising how one specific memory is what will make you fight to come out alive. It’s what makes you dare to push your way through the darkness, searching for any tiny shard of light.

My darkness comes when you would expect it to…at night.

It’s much more than the night closing in. It’s the pill I’m given, the way my light is switched off for me and the way I’m told when to get some rest. They might as well say lights out like they do in prison because that’s what this place is like.

Rest is something that eludes me because even in my dreams, peace is nowhere to be found. It’s as elusive as it has always been, except for when… no . It’s best not to even think it.

Sitting up in bed, I wrap my arms around my knees and tap out a calming beat— one, two, three —as a tiny slither of light slips through the crack of my door. It’s illuminating a black-and-white picture taped to the wall.

Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss.

I reach out and trace my finger along the woman lying back in Cupid’s embrace, and I can hear and see him just as clearly as if he’s in the room with me…

“Sometimes curiosity should stay just that,” he advised as he pushed his chair away from the desk.

“Should it?”

Standing slowly, he made his way behind me, and my entire body shivered with anticipation.

“Yes. There’s a reason Psyche was told not to open the flask.”

This was wrong. He’d told me that so many times. But I wanted him, and I was going nowhere.

“And that reason was?”

“Because opening it would only bring about the most severe of consequences.”

…He’d been right all along.

I lie down and stare into the darkness, searching for answers, but I have none. Our choices tore us apart, and my decision led me here.

My own choices and my own decisions, I knew that.

Why didn’t anyone else?

Past…

When does an obsession become unhealthy?

I didn’t mean to follow him home that first time, but before I knew it, I was doing it every day and had been for the last few weeks.

It was a ritual now to sit in my car at school and wait as the second hand would tick, tick, tock its way around to 3:00 p.m.—when he would appear.