Picking up the pieces (Student x Teacher) (MxM)

Chapter 3

I groaned, grabbing the pillows from beneath my head and forcefully shoving one over each ear in an attempt to drown out the incessant banging.

It was probably Kray or Ryan coming to check I hadn't drank myself into oblivion yet again and if that was the case they could just fuck off already. There was an out of control jackhammer running havoc in my head after lasts night encounter with a bottle or two.

What was the time anyway? Or even the day for that matter? I rolled over, rubbing the sleep out of my clogged eyelids so I could stare in disbelief at my glowing phone screen that informed me it was just past 5pm on a Friday.

I hadn't been to school since Monday when I'd had my run in with....him. No, let's not think of him. No point, not worth wasting my last few droplets of energy on.

Fucking hell will someone cut it with the bloody banging already!? I swing my legs out of bed and sit up way too fast.

I clutch my rolling stomach and hang my head between my knees, taking deep, long breaths until the sickness subsides. I stand, but only when I'm confident that when I do my bedroom wall won't get sprayed with the contents of my stomach.

The banging refused to cease. And that annoying little nagging thing in my brain, called a conscious, insisted I go downstairs in case my drunken mother had accidently locked herself out of the house, yet again.

I threw on some grey, tattered jogging bottoms that smelled like they could do with a wash and left my chest bare with plans of returning back to my beckoning bed soon. I dragged my unwilling body down the staircase and toward the front door.

The pounding on that front door was nearly as bad as the pounding happening within my head but I lacked the energy to be angry at being awoken. I was too tired. So dammed tired of this life that seemed hell bent on keeping me in my own personal hell. If I believed in God, I'd rage at him, I'd question why me? I'd plead and beg with him, threaten him and cry. But it so happened that I didn't believe in God. I believed that sometimes real bad shit happens to real good people and it's not fair. The world isn't fair. But we all knew that right?

At the bottom of the staircase I took a minute to build up some internal strength before dealing with my inevitably drunk mother.

I opened the front door and upon looking upward I decided that I hadn't built up enough internal strength that would be required of me to deal with this situation.

"Nope. Just No." I shook my head and flung the door shut before trudging back up to the bed that I should never have left.

The door never slammed shut, it should've done.

"Jamie." That deep, masculine voice seemed to roll over my raw, sensitive nerve endings and the silent command in his voice had me frozen on the stairs.

I half turned my head in his direction, not possessing enough courage to look him in the eye.

"Not today Mr Anders. Just not today please." I went to turn back and continue my journey up the stairs but the feeling of warm, strong fingers encircling my wrist had me pausing again. I had to bite my lip and the nerve endings on my sensitive wrist became hyper aware of the man's calloused skin rubbing against my own.

"Call me Julian please. Can we sit down and talk for a moment please?" His softening tone seemed to plead with me and my earlier anger at him seemed to drain out of my highly strung body.

On the in breath of my impending reply I was unexpectedly interrupted by the incoming whirlwind.

"They tried to tell me no, can you believe that baby!? I threatened to take my business elsewhere and they caved the greedy scrooge's!" Mum stumbled through the door holding her prizes, 2 bottles of vodka, high above her head.