My Teacher, Louis Tomlinson

Chapter 14- Opening up

Skye's POV:

The next day was relatively uneventful. I barely slept again the night before because I kept trying to remember said rape that happened eleven years ago. It also doesn’t help that whenever I try to clear my mind, I keep thinking about my mom.

I looked like shit all day, ignoring everyone unless absolutely necessary.

I think my favorite part of the day was when I fell asleep in music for like thirty minutes and no one cared. We were doing another dumb written assignment on contemporary composers and I wanted to shoot myself I was so bored, so sleeping was easy.

Mr. Tomlinson woke me up by tapping on my desk. I shot up, frantically looking around and noticing there was no one left in the room.

“I-I am so sorry.” I say. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Skylynn, it’s okay. I would’ve woken you up sooner if you hadn’t looked so miserably exhausted when you walked in today.” He says. “Tea?”

I slowly nod and thank him.

Once the tea is finished and ready to drink, he attempts to start a conversation.

“So what’s going on that’s been keeping you up all night?” He asks, looking me straight in the eyes for a second before taking a sip of tea however still not breaking eye contact.

Creepy.

I decide that I don’t have it in me to lie today, so I tell him the truth.

“Everything. My parents. My uncle… stuff. I just don’t get it.” I sigh, feeling sufficiently hopeless and stupid.

“Get what?” He asks carefully.

I sigh again before replying. I’m gonna do it.

“It seems like everyone in my life just wants to make it a living hell.” I say.

“Elaborate.” He says.

“I mean, if you want. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” He continues, a bit more softly.

“My dad…”

How far am I gonna go with this? Am I gonna tell him everything?

No. He doesn’t need to know about the abuse.

“…h-he killed my mom. A-and…” I stop when I realize I’m crying. In front of him.

“I’m sorry.” I gasp, trying to wipe my tears faster than they can fall.

“Don’t be.” Mr. Tomlinson offers me a box of tissues.

“T-thanks.” I say, taking one but not using it, just holding on to it for comfort.

“…and every time I try to *sniff* sleep, I-I just keep seeing her. And it’s h-hard.” I continue, refusing to make eye contact out of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry *sniff*. I can’t do this. I’m n-not ready.” I tell him.

“That’s perfectly alright, Skye. You don’t have to tell me. Just know I’m here if you ever do want to talk about anything.” He says sincerely.

Wow. Why does he give a shit?

I’m not used to people like him.

We finish our tea in silence. It’s a comfortable silence, though. There’s nothing to be said. I’m too lost in my own dumb emotions to care, really.

He stands up and takes my empty mug and puts it in his before setting them on his desk.

“Do you want to go home now or just hang out here for a while?” He asks.