In the sports hall, I met Rory, who told me that I should go to a classroom on the top floor after my afternoon lessons. The math club would gather there, and I would hear more details about the school trip. Rory said he was only the messenger; the initial invitation apparently came from the math teacher, who was supervising the club and responsible for the contests as well.
At lunch, there was pudding for dessert, and instead of little plates, they used a little handmade bowl. While eating, I couldn't avert my eyes from it, and finally, I just pocketed it. I'm really innocent; first they showed me these adorable plates, and now they came and made an adorable bowl. I really had no other choice.
The afternoon lessons passed quickly. Today I let one class do push-ups; the kids who would be able to do the most push-ups, would decide the games they wanted to play after. I had expected it to be a bigger challenge, but only a few in each class made over five, so the result was soon determined, not giving me any pleasure to watch.
My last lesson for today was with Jude's class, and I thought my ears nearly gave out when reading the attendance, and I heard a deep "Here", when calling Jude's name. Looking up from my clipboard and falling into the abyss, I couldn't control my face for a moment.
Boy, you were whipped just the day before yesterday. What are you doing in P.E. class?
But I could neither call him out in front of the other students nor explain how I knew about him being injured. Sighing, I continued to read the attendance.
"Okay. Let's play soccer today." I pointed to the big casket with all kinds of balls. Jude could just ignore the ball's existence and stand to the side. Contrary to basketball, there weren't as many arm movements either.
"Because I will let boys and girls play together, there can be no touching or aggressive playing; if I see something like this, you owe me five rounds on the running track." Not minding the mandatory collective groaning of the students, I walked to my bench after arranging the teams with equally many boys and girls in each.
However, I hadn't even sat down for a minute when Jude walked up to me, his expression turning more aggressive the closer he came. As a teacher, I couldn't flinch back, so I had to just look at him with a warning.
He didn't stop; instead, he arrived by my side, grabbing my jaw and turning my head to the side.
"My father?" Jude didn't ask; he demanded an explanation. What a brat.
"No." I tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he tightened his grip, bending down,
"Has my father slapped you?" The abyss reached out to me, his face so near, his breath so close, I froze.
"It wasn't him; let go this instant." I hissed when I regained control over my body again. I couldn't see past him as his body enveloped me, but my heart raced in fear that the students would see us like this.
Jude came even closer, snarling my name threateningly,
"Lesly."
He scared the crap out of me—he and his unawareness of the right time and place.
Even if I were to leave soon, I didn't want to have a record of having been in improper contact with a student, and I didn't want for Jude to get into trouble for assaulting a teacher.
"Bernard's mother slapped me; let go now!" I was so short on biting his hand off.
Jude calmed down a bit, his mouth opening to say something when there were two students quietly talking, unaware that they were heard clearly by the both of us.
"Thought he didn't want to make a move." One student said, and both of us froze at their topic.
"Dunno, maybe he wants to see her shittitts?" The other laughed, and while I asked myself what the hell they were trying to say with this new combination of insult and body part, Jude let go of me and wordlessly turned around.
The way he walked—like a decisive panther ready to pounce—I knew things would escalate, and I jumped up to go after him. In the midst of calling his name, I saw Jude taking a swing and hitting a student in the face.
"Hey!" I yelled when Jude didn't calm down, even after the student fell. He lunged at him and straddled him, again hitting him hard.
Every student stopped what they were doing, staring at how Jude was going berserk. Only Amanda ran to him, yelling,
"Jude, stop it. STOP IT!"
I was already behind him, and when he wanted to take another throw, I grabbed his arm and tried to tear him down from the student.
Jude turned; his face was too calm for what he was doing. He clearly wanted to retaliate, but when he saw that it was me, he luckily stopped. I still gripped his arm, worried that he would continue, nearly hugging it.
"Come down, now!" My voice had risen a few notches, too overwhelmed by how quickly things had escalated with Jude yet again.
He stood up and let me take him to the side; not even out of breath, his face unreadable, the abyss silent, as he was dragged to the bench.
"Sit down." I pulled on his clothes, trying to get him to sit down, and when he finally obliged, I ran to the other student, who was in the midst of being helped up by a few boys.
"How is it?" I asked him; his face was bloody, but it didn't seem as if something was broken.
"What the hell is wrong with him?" The bloody face contorted in pain as he wanted to touch his wounds. I held him back,
"Go to the infirmary. You, accompany him." I pointed at the few others beside him.
Originally, I was not to leave the students alone, but I had no choice now, so I said loudly to everyone,
"You all stay here and do whatever; no going out, another teacher will soon come."
I walked back to Jude,
"Come with me."
He languidly stood up—no panic, no remorse.
Was he really not clear about the way these two incidents looked? This here was a prestigious school, and the students weren't dumb enough to not piece together two such incidents in my lessons, both with me as the reason. It was only a matter of time until everyone would conclude that he was the one behind the fire.
*************
Thomas POV
I knew it the moment when the flames started to devour the classroom—that I had to get rid of her because her place in your heart was bigger than I could have ever imagined.
But that wasn't what brought me to the pit of despair. Instead, it was my suspicion of you.
Of how timely you arrived every time to treat my wounds. Of how you never stopped her when you already knew she would abuse me. I started to observe you closely when you saw me bleeding—the cuts, the burns, the slashes—and that was when I knew I would never escape hell ever again.
For I had discovered the real 'you'.
I realized that you were the same kind of monster she was.
You loved to see others in pain as much as she did; you were just better at disguising yourself.