Can You Keep A Secret? {[Student/Teacher]}

Chapter Six: "Goodnight, Deserae. Sweet Dreams."

Because you've read more of my stories than any of my fans(: Thanks for all the support :D 

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                 Mr. Carter bent down and wrapped his coat around me. Without saying anything, he helped me up and led me to the passenger side of the car.

                He slid in shortly after, still silent. He simply cranked up the heat and drove on.

                I tried to control my violent shaking as he pulled up to a huge, white, two story house. The rain beat down on the flat roof and the porch lights lit up as we walked through the black, iron gates. Holy freaking shit. Was Mr. Carter rich or something?

                He parked in the long driveway and helped me in the house.

                I sat down on the couch and watched as he left the room for a minute. When he came back, he was caring gauze, cotton balls, a rag, and alcohol then went to the kitchen and poured something hot into a cup.

                He sat next to me and handed me the drink.

I took a sip and realized it was coffee. He watched me the whole time and I waited for the question I knew he was going to ask.

                Surprisingly, he said, "Where are you hurt?"

                Everywhere. "My arm." I whispered, too afraid to speak.

                I was not going to break down in front of him.

                "Let me see."

                I sat the glass down on the coffee table and rolled up my sleeve.

                He sighed, "This is going to sting a little."

                He dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton ball on the cuts and scratches and I cringed. After he was done, he wrapped gauze around my arm.

                "Anywhere else?"

                I looked away.

                "Deserae." He said firmly, almost a warning.

                I looked back at him and pulled up my shirt, revealing only part of the cut on my stomach.

                He blinked a few times before he cussed, "You have two choices." He said, "Either you take off your shirt and I'll take care of it or I can take you to the hospital."

                I bit my lip, but slowly took off his shirt completely. Good thing I didn't wear the black lace bra.

                His eyes noticeably widened as he saw the whole gash spreading across my stomach.

                I looked away and clenched my fist.

                Why did he have to stare at me like that?

                He shook his head before he picked up the rag and drenched it in alcohol. Gently, barely even touching it, he rubbed the cloth along it.

                I shut my eyes tightly and tried to think of something else.

                "Are the cuts on your back ok?"