Teaching Becomes Torture

•Part 5•

Wearing my same sports bra/cropped top and leggings, I entered the gym. The fact so many people repeatedly looked at my ass made me feel self conscious but I wasn't here for myself.

"Hey," Mitchell smiled weakly at me, flicking the pause switch on his running machine.

He wore a tight vest which revealed all his muscles and his six pack through his top, he looked manly compared to any other of the students from the school.

"My face is just as beautiful," he winked.

"I was just admiring you muscles, you must work out a lot. It's cool," I admitted the fact that I was looking at him.

"Uh thanks," he scratched his head and looked at the floor.

"So what do you wanna start on?" I asked him, looking at all the top notch equipment around us.

"Just do whatever, I'm doing another twenty minutes of this then I'll be over," he wiped the sweat from his forehead and climbed back onto the running machine.

I hadn't been to a gym in over two years, I decided it was easier and much cheaper to just workout from home.

The first thing I lay my eyes on were the workout mats, I pulled one from the rack and lay down onto it, stomach down.

"One, two, one, two," I spoke to myself like the rest of the people in the gym as I did press ups one handed.

"Her partner must be a lucky fella," I heard a deep voice coming from behind me and looked back to see two middle aged men watching me.

Embarrassed, I grabbed my water bottle off the floor and walked over to Mitch who was still running.

"Hey, I'm just about finishing now, what you thinking miss?" He looked across at me, breathing heavily.

"Ness," I replied.

"What?" He chuckled.

"Call me Ness, I keep my home life and school life separate," I laughed.

"Well Ness you can call me whatever you want," he smirked. "But most people just call me Mitch."

"I think I might head off," I interrupted.

"We've only just got here, what's up?" He stopped his machine completely and turned around so he was facing me.

"Take two guesses," I moved my head to the right slightly and Mitch looked to where I directed to see the two men still looking at me.

"They're getting to you?" He put his hand on my arm.

"It's off-putting when they're eyes are constantly glued to my ass," I blurted.

"Wait here," he stepped off the machine, his hand moved across my waist as he took it off my arm.

"Yeah, yeah," I looked back to see Mitch was joking around with the two men.

"Don't worry about them, they're just over friendly," Mitch smiled.

"You know them?" I questioned.

"Yeah, everyone knows everyone in here, they'll stop now don't worry, so what now?" He responded.

"Okay. And weights?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yes boss," he saluted me.

"You gonna tell me what the whole fuck off thing was about earlier then huh?" I stood over him as he picked up the weights.

"Not really," he let out a deep breath after putting the weight down for a rest.

"Come on Mitch," I pushed my hands down on the weight to prevent him from picking it up again but pulled one hand away after feeling a shooting pain.

"What was that?" He looked at the weight where my two hands were.

"It's nothing, just still sore," I put my bad hand behind my back.

"Ness, there's blood on the weight," he quickly sat up and swung his legs around so they were facing me.

"Someone could've had a nose bleed," I tried to make excuses.

"Show me," he looked at me.

"Show you what?" I laughed to try and seem normal.

"Show me your hand," his voice grew stern.

"Mitch there's nothing wrong with my hand," I made a run for it and left the gym.

"Let me-" he came up behind me and grabbed my hand.

"Mitch, no!" I squealed and pulled my hand away from him.

"You're bleeding," he stopped walking and glared at me, a worried look on his face.

"It's been doing it all day, it's normal," I laughed it off even though I knew it was worse than i made it out to be.

"You stupid, stupid, stupid," he threw his hands behind his head and shouted.

"Mitch," I called him.

"You should've told me," he moaned.

"No Mitch, please!" I screamed, the bandage which covered my glass cuts was soaked in blood and it began to drip onto the floor.

"Oh no, no, no, no," he ran to me, one hand around my waist and the other holding my bleeding hand, trying to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding.

"My head hurts, I'm still hungover," I giggled.

"You're loosing so much blood Ness, why didn't you tell me there was something wrong!" I was now led across his lap on the floor, his hands both squeezing mine.

"I hit the football with it," I looked up at him.

"You should've told me," he smiled sweetly, trying not to look worried which wasn't a very good cover up act at all, good job he didn't want a future career as an actor.

"I don't think I'm ready to die," I didn't care anymore and let my tears trail down my face.

"It's okay, I won't let you," he stroked my cheek with his hand.

"You're right, I'll be fine. Now go home," I stopped dazing into his perfect eyes and stared somewhere else.

"It's Friday tomorrow, I usually miss them anyway," he held his hand out careless.

"You have school tomorrow, go home. Please," I pleaded with him.

"But you," He was insistent on staying.

"Look, now go," I pointed over at the ambulance which had just arrived.

"I need to go," he followed the paramedics towards the ambulance, trying to come with us.

"Hun, go home. Everything will be okay," I gave him a gentle wave before the ambulance door was shut and his face was no longer in my view.

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