Sylvie
The classroom always smelled faintly of dust and candle wax, like the chapel had seeped its way into the walls. I never minded it. It was comforting in some way, like the air itself was reminding us to be quiet, to be good.
I slid into my usual seat by the window; notebook hugged to my chest, and glanced at the clock. Five minutes early, always too early. My seatmates teased me subtly for it but I rather stay quiet than to cause trouble and attract attention. I do not deserve it. I couldn't help it; I liked the silence before everyone else filled the classroom. Silence was safer, it felt safer too.
My pen tapped against the paper, a steady beat to chase away nerves I couldn't name. Maybe it was the weight of the exams coming or maybe it was the fact that someone has been constantly watching me. Maybe it was the weight of what Father Vaughn would give as his project assignment this time around.
When finally he walked in, the room shifted. The air seemed to notice him first, then the students, then me. I dropped my gaze quickly, focusing on the neat line of my book. But still, I felt it. That prickle at the back of my neck, the awareness that eyes had found me in the crowd. I just told myself it was nothing. Just nerves, just me being me. But the silence around me felt heavier now, like it wasn't mine anymore.
I dared to look up as he spoke, his voice low and calm, the kind that made even the most restless student still. He wasn't like other teachers. There was something so different about him, about the way he carried himself, as if every word he gave us was chosen with care, meant to stay long after the lesson ended.
Part of me admired that; how steady he seemed, how sure of himself in a world that never stopped shifting. But part of me wished I could sit through his class without holding my breath. He asked a question. My name left his lips, smooth and deliberate. And suddenly it felt as if the walls were closing in as the entire room was waiting for my response. I cleared my throat, fumbling for the answer I knew I studied last night. My voice wavered at first, and then steadied as the words tumbled out.
"Correct," he said at last, his gaze lingering on me for a second too long before moving on. Heat rushed to my face. I lowered my face quickly, scribbling something useless in the margin of my notebook just to keep my hands busy. My pulse was too loud in my ears. But why did it feel like I've passed a test no one else was given?
The lesson carried on like nothing ever happened at least to them but I couldn't shake the ridiculous feeling of being watched. He's just a teacher, a priest. A man whose duty is to guide and offer himself daily as a sacrifice to God. And yet, I couldn't stop noticing the sharp cut cheekbone and jaw line, his lethal muscle not bulky but enough to make a woman drop her panties and his cold, dark hooded green eyes.
And yet as the bell rang and the students are saying their goodbyes to him and hurried steps block out all the things I could hear, I felt his gaze on me and when I met his green ones, he was smiling psychopathically.
Quiet voices drift up from the streets ahead when people are walking. I don't follow the routes the others take. I turn left into a deserted alley instead. The golden afternoon sun barely reaches in here because of how narrow this path is between two buildings. A few empty bottles lie discarded by the grey concrete wall on my right, and the entire place reeks of alcohol and piss but it isn't worst than where I stay anyway.
The key rattled against the lock before it finally turned. My stomach twisted as I stared at Mark, my step brother. My stomach twisted too loud, he probably heard that. Sidestepping him, I walked towards the kitchen to prepare lunch trying my very best to avoid chats with him. The silence I met felt wrong. Not peaceful, not empty both just heavy and watching.
The air hit me first when I stepped into the sitting room. Smoke, cologne, the sour trace of whiskey; he'd been here long enough for it to sink into the walls. I stepped inside forcing myself to inhale slowly and deeply to calm my raging nerves and to stay even, and let the door click shut behind me. Each sound I made was too sharp, too revealing.
"Where have you been?"
His voice sent shock waves through me as he closed the distance between us, sliding his slimy cold hands up my throat from behind pulling me closer to himself. My heart stuttered hard enough to make my hands shake, so I curled them into fists at my sides before he could notice. His stillness filled the room; he didn't need to raise his voice and I don't need to talk, just be invisible. The quiet way he said it was much worse, like he'd been waiting to catch me off guard. He buried his nose in my hair and sniffed. "You are not seeing any other person, right?" I gave a nod and he released me instantly allowing me to breathe properly.
I lowered my gaze, kept my steps measured as I set the table for lunch. Don't make noise. Don't rush. Don't give him reason to suspect a thing. But the thought sank bitter in my throat along with the fact that I wasn't safe here or anywhere.