Bad Teacher (18 page)

“Stop talking about my mother!”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I like,” he snaps. “You come home right now, or I’ll come and get you myself. It’s time you started working, so you can earn back all that money we wasted on you all those years.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re coming home tomorrow! Or I swear I’ll fucking come and get you myself! You hear me, you ungrateful shit? Come. Home. Now.”

Lowering the phone, I disconnect the call and throw the phone away. I’m shaking, my whole body in shock as the tears run down my face. I hug my legs and hobble around on the bed, my mind running in circles. What do I do? I don’t wanna go, but if I don’t, I know he’ll come for me. He’s done it before; acting out and being violent is his thing. It’s the only thing he knows. And the sole thing I hate.

Grinding my teeth, I get off the bed and grab my wallet, phone, and keys, slamming the door on my way out.

I’m not staying here for one more second.

His words have poisoned that room.

I can still hear him in my head, shouting at me that I’m a worthless piece of shit.

All I wanna do is get away.

So I run. I run until my lungs hurt; I run until the tears stop streaming; I run until my feet hurt and my body aches. When I get to town, I go into the nearest bar and sit down on a stool, my mind on blank.

It’s reckless. Stupid and dangerous to be here alone.

But I don’t care anymore.

I just wanna get drunk.

I order an apple martini and show the bartender my fake ID, which apparently still works even though I’m wearing no make-up. Must be the droopy face that makes me look older. I drink my drink without speaking to anyone, listening to the music in the background, trying to forget.

That’s all I ever do.

Try to forget.

The alcohol helps.

I guess I’m not so different from Thomas, after all.

Except maybe he’s better at this shit than I am because I know for a fact that I’m unable to stop. I don’t want to. I don’t have the desire. All I want is to drink until I can’t remember shit.

So I order another one and chug it down.

That’s when a man comes to sit next to me, smiling awkwardly as he orders a beer.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.”

“How you doing?”

“Fine.”

I try not to engage, but he keeps talking.

“You look like you’re having a shitty time,” he says.

“Uh-huh.”

“Let me order a drink for you.” He beckons the bartender. “Another appletini for the lady over here.”

The bartender pours me another one, and I thank him for it, as well as the man beside me, but really, I just want him to shut up.

“So where you from?” he asks.

“Sorry, but I’m here to just be alone for a while. No offense.”

“Oh, wow, settle down, girl. No need to get angry.”

I side-eye him. “I’m not angry. I just wanna be left alone. Thanks for the drink, though.”

“Sure.” He makes a face. “Take a drink from a man and then act like that. Classy.”

“I never said I was, and I never asked for a drink.” I scoot it across the bar to him. “Here, you drink it.”

“No thanks,” he says, shoving it back so hard, it spills on my shirt.

“Hey! Fuck,” I growl, swiping away the alcohol. “Goddammit.”

“Sorry. Maybe you should’ve just been nice,” he says, and I give him the stink-eye.

I hop off my stool and go into the bathroom to grab some tissues I can dry my shirt with, but it’s not much help. When I try to leave the bathroom, the guy’s suddenly in my face.

“Need some help with that?”

“No, I’m good.” I try to pass him, but he places his hand on the wall next to me, trapping me inside. “Please …”

“Please what? You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to be thankful for a drink.”

“A drink that you spilled all over my shirt? Gee, thanks.” I raise a brow at him. “Can you please move?”

“No, not until you tell me your name.”

“I don’t wanna tell you my name. I’m not interested. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Oh, c’mon …” He grabs my wrist, which is when I pull back.

“
Don’t
touch me.”

“What’s your problem?” He makes a face. “Stop acting like you’re not interested. I know you don’t have a boyfriend. Why else would you come to this bar alone?”

“That’s none of your fucking business. Now, let me through.” Each time I try to pass him, he shoves me back into the bathroom, until the door closes behind us and I’m left alone with a man twice my size.

“Get. Out,” I growl.

“Or what?” He laughs, stepping closer.

I quickly rummage through my purse and take out the pepper spray my mom told me to carry. “Or I’ll use this.”

“Ooh … and I’m supposed to be scared of that?” He shakes his head.

Out of fear that something will happen, I also grab my phone and speed-dial Thomas. It’s the first number I pass after …

“Come here.” The guy suddenly steps forward and reaches for my hand.

“Get off me!” I yell as we fight over the can of pepper spray.

Meanwhile, I hear Thomas’s voice shouting in the back. “Hailey? Hailey?”

“Thomas! Help!” I scream, and in the heat of the moment, I still somehow manage to tell him which bar I’m at. A second later, the guy shoves me so hard I fall to the ground.

“Bitch,” he says, spitting on the floor. “You want to use fucking pepper spray on me?”

“Stay away!” I say, crawling backward.

“Fuck that.” He throws the can far away in a corner, and his eyes zoom in on me. “I give you a nice cocktail for free, and this is the thanks I get? I should’ve earned a kiss at least, but with you acting like this … I earn way more than just that.”

“No!” I yell, kicking as he comes closer. I try to make him lose his balance, but when he has me by the throat, I’m no match. “C’mon then, a little kiss for the trouble and I might let you go.”

When his lips inch closer, I muster all my strength and punch him in the side, causing him to buck and heave.

“Fucking bitch.” He coughs, almost choking on his own breath. “You fucking punched me.”

I use the last bit of strength to kick him in the head, making him topple over on his back, and then I land another kick right to his balls.

He yowls like a fucking wolf, and I use the time he spends cupping his lady-bits to make a run for the door. Too bad he’s grabbed my foot halfway there.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Let me go!” I yell. “You fucking asshole!”

“Asshole? Me? You’re the asshole,” he growls, trying to pull me back.

I kick him again. “Do you always put your hands on girls without their permission?”

“If they’re asking for it, yeah.” He tries to crawl on top of me, but I keep kicking him, trying to fend him off. His nose is bleeding because of it, and the blood is pouring onto my pants.

Suddenly, the door opens, and when I look up, I see a face that makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Thomas!”

Thomas

“What the fuck …” I mutter, witnessing the scene in front of me.

I grab Hailey’s hand and help her up, holding her close to me as I watch the man on the floor crawl backward.

“I didn’t do nothing, man,” he says.

“Fuck you!” Hailey spits at him. “Fuck you for trying to put your hands on me.”

Rage.

Rabid fury storms through my mind, blocking out all sensible thoughts.

“He … touched you?” I murmur.

“Nuh-uh,” the guy says, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” I growl, and I grab Hailey’s face with both hands. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?”

“No, he just tried to kiss me, but I didn’t let him,” she says, and I look her deep in the eye to make sure she isn’t lying. “But I hurt him.”

I look at the guy and his bleeding nose as he grabs his crotch with a painful look on his face.

“You …”

Like a small boy, he covers his face with his hands and cries. “Please, don’t!”

I try to step toward him to show him what it means to feel afraid, but Hailey grabs my hand, stopping me. “Don’t,” she says with a soft voice, almost as if she regrets saying it already.

“Why?” I glance at her over my shoulder. “Give me one good reason not to smack him straight to hell.”

“I just … I just wanna go home. Can we just go home, please?”

Grinding my teeth, I gaze at her and then at that bastard who dared to touch my girl. “You … Apologize to her. Now!”

I make a gesture with my palm, which is enough to make him beg. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You won’t ever touch another girl without her agreeing, you hear me?” I growl.

“He’s been drinking. Actually, we were both drinking …” Hailey muses.

“No excuse for fucked-up behavior,” I growl. “Fucking disgrace.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to give her a kiss after offering her a drink, that’s all. I was going to let her go. It got out of hand.”

“Sure you fucking were,” I spit, challenging him by making a fist.

However, Hailey tugging at my coat makes me turn around. “Please? I just wanna go.”

I would love nothing more than to beat up that piece of shit who tried to touch my girl, but she keeps insisting, and I can’t tell her no. Not when something like this has happened.

I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay.”

She rubs her lips together as I place my hand on her shoulder and help her out of the bathroom slowly. One final glance at the man and I know he’ll never try that shit again. Just that one look should make him shit his pants.

When it comes to being mad, no one beats me—not with dirty looks and certainly not with fists.

All those months of training in the gym were for this. So I can do justice to those who deserve it.

Hailey shivers in my arms as we walk outside the bar, so I take off my coat and wrap it around her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, but her voice catches in her throat. “I’m fine.”

“Really? Maybe we should call the cops and report it.”

“No.” She frowns, looking down at the ground. “I don’t wanna spend one more second on this. I just wanna forget.” She looks up at me with teary eyes that break me in half. “Can I just forget?”

I pull her close and wrap my arms around her, and she lets her head rest against my chest, breathing out a few hiccup-like breaths.

“Let’s go home,” I murmur, planting a kiss on top of her hair.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispers. “I needed you.”

“I know you did,” I say, smiling at her, but my smile quickly dissipates. “But I came too late.”

“No, it’s my fault …” She shakes her head. “I should’ve never come here. God, I feel so sick.” She rubs her stomach as we walk to my car.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I won’t barf all over your car, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she says, laughing it off a bit as she sits down in the passenger seat.

“I’m not. I’m worried about you,” I say.

She looks at me with a surprised gaze, and I give her a tiny smile before closing the door and going to the driver’s side. I hop in and start the engine, trying to let the sound drown out the roar in my heart that tells me to go back into the bar and beat the living shit out of that asshole. But her calm eyes bore into me, and she grasps my hand and holds it tight, keeping me in place. Keeping me in the here and now. It’s like she always manages to pull me back from the dark.

“Let’s go,” I say, clearing my throat, and I turn out of the parking lot and drive off.

I bring her to her place, not mine. I think she needs something familiar now, something where she’ll feel at ease. When we’re in her room, she sits down on her bed and stares at me with eyes that remind me of death.

I clear my throat again. “Well, I’ll be going then.”

As I turn around, she says, “Stay. Please.”

I sigh, look down at my shoes, and think it over.

Should I?

This is a dorm room, and I’m her teacher.

I shouldn’t be anywhere near this place, let alone be alone with her. Yet how could I leave? Not when she begs me like that.

“Are you sure? This is your place. Not mine. I don’t … belong here.”

“But I do, and you belong with me.” Her words strangle me, suffocate me with a kind of love I can’t ignore. “Like I belong to you,” she continues. “Right?”

I don’t respond.

I don’t even know how.

“Can you stay? For me?” she asks.

For a moment, I let my head rest against the door.

It’s too late to turn the knob and open it.

It’s too late to run.

I already made my choice long ago.

With a soft smile on my face, I turn around and walk toward her. I sit down beside her on her bed, which feels like it might collapse under my weight. I bobble around on it, and she looks at me funnily.

“Quite a bed,” I say. “You sleep in this?”

“Every day,” she says, crawling up her bed further and pulling up her legs so she can hug them.

“Hmm …” I turn my head toward her. “I think it’s due for an upgrade.”

She laughs. “Really? That’s what you’re gonna say?”

“Well, I just think you deserve a better night’s sleep. That’s all.”

“Right … well, I don’t have the money for that, as much as I’d like to.”

“I do.”

She frowns, then blushes as I smile at her.

Maybe I can buy her one sometime.

“So … how are you feeling?” I ask. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

“No, but I do feel like shit,” she says. “Mostly because of the alcohol.”

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Too much …” She shakes her head like she can’t believe she did that.

“Why?” I ask.

Her face turns sour. “I don’t know …”

“Yes, you do,” I muse, looking at her directly. “You just don’t want to tell me.”

“Maybe,” she says after a while.

The silence is deafening, and I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her close. A single tear rolls down her cheek, and I lift my finger to her face to wipe it off. I hate to see her cry. Hate seeing her hurt, no matter in what way, but it chews at my heart.

“You can tell me,” I whisper, hugging her close.

“I don’t like talking about it,” she says, looking frustrated. “Especially not to …”

“Strangers?”

“But you’re not a stranger.”

I cup her chin and caress her softly. “I’m no stranger, and I don’t want to be. You can tell me anything, Hailey. Even the bad stuff.”

She swallows and nods slowly. “It’s my mom’s boyfriend. He called and told me I need to quit college and come back home.”

My eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“Because he’s an asshole and wants me to feel miserable.” She frowns. “He treats my mom and me like shit. Always has.”

“Fuck … What now?”

“I don’t know. Knowing him, he’ll come and get me himself. His threats aren’t empty; that I do know.”

“Jesus …” I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

“Not just this. There’s always something going on in my ‘family.’” She makes quotation marks with her fingers. “If you can call that a family. We haven’t been one since my dad …”

She chokes up.

I caress her back softly, trying to encourage her to speak, even though anger rips me apart. I want to know more about her mom’s boyfriend so I can pound some common sense into him, but I know I need to be here for her now.

“My dad …” she murmurs. “He died when I was just a kid. Cancer. Fuck. Fucking fuck cancer.”

Another tear runs down her cheek. “I still miss him every single day.” She rubs her earrings and stares off into space for a while.

“He gave you those ice-cream earrings?” I ask.

She lifts her head with a surprised look on her face. “Who told you that?”

“You did. In the restaurant, remember?”

“Oh … right. Yeah. My dad gave them to me when I was little. I always used to love getting ice cream with him at a shop right at the corner of our street. I loved it so much that he gave me these as a birthday present. It was such a long time ago, and it was before …”

“Before your mom’s new boyfriend.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out again. “He ruined our life. Mom only liked him because he was arrogant. He swept her off her feet and took her to places, gave her lots of gifts, and showered her with love. It was her way of forgetting about my dad. Not much left of that sweetness now.”

“I don’t think she’ll forget about your dad,” I say.

“Oh no, but she tries. That’s why she wants to stay with him so badly.”

“Your mom’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah. She craves his attention, even when it’s bad. Wants to do right in his eyes, but nothing is ever right for him.”

“Did he hurt you?” I ask after a while.

She licks her lips. “Sometimes. But mostly my mom. They’re always fighting and yelling. I don’t remember anything else about my childhood after my dad died other than him hitting my mother and my mother not even defending herself.”

“Jesus …” I take another deep breath. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

She suddenly grabs my arm. “Please, don’t tell anyone,” she says.

What am I supposed to say?

All I can think of is calling the cops and telling them all about the abuse she and her mother have endured. Then again, what evidence do I have other than her story? Nothing. It’s useless. I feel so goddamn useless.

But her voice pulls me from my thoughts and back into the moment. “Please?”

I nod and grab her so I can hug her tight. “I promise.”

God, no wonder she’s so closed-off. She’s already been through so much.

In my arms, she finally relaxes, and the tears start flowing again.

Fuck. It really hurt her bad.

Not only did her mom’s boyfriend fuck it up for her, but then she went to drink her fears away, only to be attacked in the bathroom.

Fuck me.

I should’ve been there for her.

Should’ve been with her when it happened.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start bawling all over you,” she says, sniffing.

“It’s okay.” I smile, looking down at her, and I brush through her hair. “Cry if you need to. I’m here.”

“Please don’t leave …” she mutters.

I press a kiss on top of her head. “I won’t. I promise.”

She nods and buries her head in my shirt again.

Always so strong yet so fragile. And all I want to do is hold her and tell her it’ll be okay. I want to take away her pain, but I know I can’t. Her cries penetrate my bones, and they make me never want to let go.

I recognize that type of cry. A cry that only comes out once in a million years. A cry holed up for so long, she probably didn’t even know it had to come out.

I understand.

I won’t run.

I won’t hide from her pain.

I’ll console her as long as she needs me.

Because it’s the only thing I can do right.