Lovely Letter. (Lucy Christopher "Stolen" FanFiction) SLOW UPDATES

Chapter 4

The whole day I could hardly concentrate on my exams, my attention elsewhere.  Try as I might, I found my thoughts constantly wandering back to you: What you were doing, how you were, if you’d...left. That thought had sent an unanticipated jolt through my heart, the pinch of pain startling. 

Why should I care if you left? It would be for the better of course, but a small part of me didn’t want to admit that. Wasn’t ready to admit that. I didn’t know where you’d go if you left, besides, you didn’t have sufficient funds to travel.

Instead of focusing on the abstract, open ended questions on my Calculus test, I was stuck pondering what I would do when school let out. 

Should I go see you? Should I completely ignore your existence? Should I drive by the place just to make sue you were alright, then drive off before you saw me? Should I– 

“Gemma?” 

I started, pencil flying from my hand and to the floor. I blinked, looking around myself. The desks were empty, the last of my classmates already filing out the door. I realized it was Mr. Warshmin, my teacher, who’d called me. I hurriedly looked down at my exam, staring at the blank pages in horror. I’d daydreamed for the whole hour? 

“Gemma, the time is up,” Mr. Warshmin said, glancing at me before placing all the other tests in a neat pile. 

“Sorry...” I muttered, gathering my things and making my way to the front of the room. I hurriedly placed the blank exam on his desk, nearly running for the exit. 

“Wait! There’s nothing written here!” he called, making me freeze in my spot. 

I took a deep breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I shuffled back over to his desk. 

“I...” I couldn’t come up with a reasonable response. What could I say? I’d been daydreaming about whether or not to meet up with my ex-kidnapper? 

“Are you alright?” he inquired, voice concerned. He reminded me of my father so much. Same facial structure, same expressions, almost identical way of dressing. The only difference was that Mr. Warshmin was much, much older, his hair completely white and wrinkles marring his liver spotted skin. 

“I’m fine,” I breathed, crossing my arms as I tried to hide inside my oversized flannel shirt. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, arching one caterpillar eyebrow. 

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. It took everything in me not to break down and confide in him. He was just one of those grandfather figures you felt you could vent to without being judged. But I couldn’t trust him with my secret of you. I could trust no one but myself with that. 

He sighed, staring at the paper before him, brows furrowing. “This doesn’t seem like you, Gemma.”

It’s not me. I agree. 

I shrugged, turning to leave. 

“Be here at seven a.m. tomorrow and I’ll let you retake a different version of the test. You’re one of my most dedicated students, Gemma, and I know everyone has their off days. I will have to take ten points off the top though, or it’d be an unfair advantage,” he said, and I swear nearly broke down in tears. 

“Thank you,” I said, before finally making it out of the door. If only everyone could be as understanding. Say, the paparazzi after you first got sentenced. Those people were vicious.

As I exited the school grounds, I half expected to see them bolting towards me from behind one of the many parked cars. But that was silly. I’d been out of the papers for years now. I was old news, and for this I was thankful. 

Sliding into my car, I pulled out of the lot only to stop a block down because I was suddenly gripped by a full on anxiety attack. 

I still hadn’t decided on what to do, and the mere thought of choosing had my heart racing and palms sweating. 

If I visited would I be sending you the wrong message? That I wanted to give ‘us’ a try? That I wanted to start a friendship or...more? If I didn’t visit, would you hunt me down anyway? 

I had no idea what I wanted or what the logical choice would be in a situation such as this. It’s not like I had much time to plan. 

I thought back on all you had said the day prior, analyzing and picking apart your facial expressions and tones of your voice. Could I trust you? 

That last day in the outback I had. I trusted you to keep me safe. I trusted you to get me the help I needed. I trusted you to keep me alive. 

And you’d done those things. 

But what was I trusting you with now exactly? 

Trusting you not to steal me away again? No, you’d already given your word that you wouldn’t. 

Trusting you not to hurt me? No, I knew you wouldn’t do that. 

I gasped when it suddenly dawned on me, hands tightening into fists as I fought to steady my breathing. It was two hours before I had it in myself to pull back onto the road.   

I was trusting you not to make me fall for you again. Really fall for you. But I knew that this was something that was far from guaranteed, something you’d never give me word for. 

So, with my mind made up, I headed towards my destination.