Torn between my teacher and my boyfriend? (TEACHER/STUDENT RELATIONSHIP)

Please Welcome This Confession (Chapter 15)

MARKO'S POV

Ten years. It has been ten years. I awoke not remembering that it was the anniversary of my parent's death but before I could force myself to blank it out, I realised. I tried my best not to focus on it but instead indulged myself in work. It's Saturday-the day of marking for me. And the day I usually try to talk myself out of my relationship with Amy-but of course, I have not succeeded thus far. 

 I heard a ringing which I was thankful for-something to get my mind off this day. I expected to see Amy's name on the Caller ID but instead a name bore the place which I did not want to read; Anastasia. 

"Hello?" I asked in a formal tone. 

"Marko, it is Anastasia. Where are you?" Her voice has always been calming to me but this time it as clipped and irritated. 

"I...don't want to come in today." I lied. Well, it wasn't a full lie-I never want to go in. 

"You very well know what today is. I am here to help you and if you don't take advantage of that, it's just going to lead-"

"Yes, yes. It's going to lead into a downward spiral straight into the pits of depression I know only too well. I know. I'll be there soon." I sighed. 

"Yes, you will." The phone went dead. 

Grabbing my wallet and coat, I abandoned the impossibly high stack of marking to run to see Anastasia. 

Spotting a Starbucks on the way, I bolted in, letting the door slam behind me. I stepped in and heard a yelp come from behind me. I turned, a frown on my face. If it was another kid playing around, it would not take me long to lose my temper. Through the double glass door, I saw someone dressed in black quickly run away from the entrance, their curly black hair bouncing. 

Thinking it was nothing, I picked up my order, paid and left as quickly as I could. 

The walk to Anastasia was not a long one. But, combined with my nerves and the thought of seeing Amy later today combined into making this the longest walk I had ever had. 

Slowing my pace to walk in, I threw away my empty cup and approached the receptionist. The reception was eerily quiet. Everything-from the receptionist's glasses to the floor was a shining white. 

"I'm here to see Anastasia." I said to the oblivious woman. 

She did not look up for a few moments but instead continued to furiously type something into her computer. When she finally paused, she looked up at me; 

"You're late, Mr. Fernandez." She said icily. 

"Sorry." I mumbled. 

She stared at me then glanced over behind me. I turned to see that another man was sitting on a chair waiting impatiently. 

"You're holding patients up, sir." The receptionist's eyebrows rose at me. 

"Again, I'm sorry. I can't turn back time."

"Sir! Do not become aggressive with me!" The receptionist exclaimed. 

"I'm not." I replied blandly. The receptionists were trained to aggravate the patients to test them but to me, the test was an age old. 

"Very well." She handed me the sign in sheet which I filled out as quickly as possible. 

"Thanks." Abruptly, I handed the sheet back to her and headed to Anastasia's room. 

There were three other rooms here, consisting of three different psychiatrists, three different receptions and therefore three different groups of desperate waiting patients . I reached the top floor to see yet another receptionist waiting at Anastasia's door.