𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟖

trigger warning - sexual assault

carmen

Christmas break passed by way too quickly for my liking. I hadn't seen Damian since our little spontaneous rendezvous in the restaurant bathroom and it was now January the fifth. First day of school back in the new year. I had stayed up all night submitting an essay for Marketing since Professor Ackers-sorry, Simon, had a strict policy about homework on time. It wasn't my best piece but I would talk to him today after class and ask if I could redo it.

I was now sitting in his class, taking notes as he briefly explained the presentation. I had almost forgotten being his TA since he never asked me to do anything. Normally, I would think that TA's would help Professors in classes and presentations but the most I did was get Simon a coffee once. I suppose I got lucky.

The bell rang and numerous students packed their things up, ignoring the teacher. "Okay guys, that concludes our lecture today. Thanks for submitting your essays as well, even though half of them were completed one minute before the deadline." He joked, his voice booming throughout the large room.

I dropped my pen and shoved everything into my bag, desperate to get out of here. Whenever I was in his classroom, I always got a bad vibe. Like he was staring at me the whole time and no one else.

Maybe I'm just delusional.

Following the rest of the students, I made my way down the stairs and headed to the door but his voice stopped me. "Carmen, could I have a word please?"

Why would he want to talk to me?

I turned around hesitantly and made my way over to him, noticing less and less students inside the classroom. Soon, everyone was out and I heard the door click shut, signaling it was just me and him. "Yes?"

He sat back in his chair behind his desk and I stood opposite him, the other side of the table.

"I wanted to talk to you about your essay." Simon sighed.

"My essay? Is everything okay?" My hands began to fidget with themselves as my nerves took over. I know it wasn't my best piece of writing, but was it really that bad?

"Yes. Well, it could be better. I read your essay before class and I have to say I wasn't very happy." He frowned, leaning forward and placing his hands on the desk.

My breath shook. "Oh."

"It wasn't bad, it was okay. But it wasn't up to your normal standard. You can do better than this, I know." I watched as he stared into my eyes with slight disappointment and my good mood plummeted. Anyone that heard that would be upset so it was no surprise I could feel the tears threatening to glide down my face. 

Nonetheless, I still kept my composure. "I'm sorry. I was going to ask you if I could redo it because I wasn't too pleased with it either."

"That's not possible, unfortunately."

I hate my life.

Some people didn't really care about getting a bad grade, but I did. When you grow up with parents and their high expectations, it's all you really know.

"Don't cry." Simon's voice became softer and my guard fell a little. It was nice to know he was comforting me even though I basically failed. You never got that anymore.