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⠀⠀⠀I screamed and struggled against the grip of the person holding unto me. I hit him as much possible, but I realized that it was really no use, he tried to say something, but he soon he gave up and grunted. He started to pull me towards the street.

⠀⠀⠀He pulled me into the light fo the lamp post that lined the street. And at 5:30 PM they turned on. And I saw his face. My mouth dropped open as I saw the icy blue eyes.

⠀⠀⠀"There... You see? It's just me..." I watch in shock as the man in front of me massages his chest, the sore spot, "You really are stronger than you look..." He clears his throat and runs his hand through his hair. "Can I ask you something? Or are you going to hit me again?"

⠀⠀⠀I didn't even hear his question, I could only manage to say his name, "M-Mr. C-Clarke?" I stuttered.

⠀⠀⠀"Yes, now Abby I--" I began to cry and he stopped talking. My cardigan was gone, and I was only in my white thin blouse and black school skirt. I probably looked terrible. He stepped forward and bit his lip, "Abby?" He called my name softly, but I couldn't respond.

⠀⠀⠀I was losing my mind.

⠀⠀⠀That was the noly explanation I could think of, and it scared me more than the mystery molester that was after me. "Mr. Clarke, I don't know what to do...!" I bawled and he put his arms around me tightly. I began to cry into his chest. I didn't care that he was my teacher. It was weird, but I really needed comfort. I was shaking all over...

⠀⠀⠀I couldn't find enough energy left to think, much less care about my already soiled reputation...

⠀⠀⠀How much worse could it get after today?

⠀⠀⠀I jumped a little as I hiccupped and the teacher rubbed my back gently, "There there, Abby... it's okay..." I try to shake my head but a gust of wind whipped across my back and neck and I gasped. My adrenaline gone, and my stamina drained, I was thrown back into reality.

⠀⠀⠀The cold air welcomed me back by b*tch-slapping my senses. I shuddered violently and was grateful for Mr. Clarke's warmth. "Abby?" I looked up and I saw how worried he looked. I couldn't imagine how messy I must have looked. I absentmindedly reached for my hair and realized that it was a frizzy mess and my lip trembled.

⠀⠀⠀The little make up I had on must look terrible too. My mascara running and all...

⠀⠀⠀"Mr. Clarke..." I start, "I-it's not what you think..." I try and explain, "I-I'm not... I don't do these kind of things-- My parents would kill me... I--"

⠀⠀⠀"I know." He said with an understand smile playing on his lips. I almost started crying again. The last thing I wanted to happen was to have Mr. Clarke think I was some slut-for-hire... I felt so tired, but my danger-o-meter wouldn't turn off, so my head buzzed.

⠀⠀⠀Just to make sure I glanced back down at his boots. They didn't hav the silver chains on it. They were just regular old-- although pretty suave for a teacher's salary-- black boots. "Abbigail, I want you to tell me what is going on..." When I looked back up he was serious.

⠀⠀⠀"I can't..." I admit, avoiding his gaze.

⠀⠀⠀"And why is that?" He asked as he lead me down the sidewalk.

⠀⠀⠀"Because I don't know  what's going on..." I give a shaky sigh and then hold myself as I brace the freezing wind.

⠀⠀⠀"Now I'm really sorry that I didn't bring my jacket with me..." My homeroom teacher smiled apologetically as he pointed to the car parked on the side of the road. "Come on, I'll get you seomthgin warm to drink and then drop you off at your parents." I nodded and we both jogged to the car.

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