A/N
There will be mentioning of self harm.
POV: Ms. Anderson
I'm seated at my kitchen table, grading papers, when a message pops up on my phone. It's from Emily.
Your brat
Good morning, beautiful.
Hannah
🙄
She's put in the name herself, when she mentioned she'll send me messages every morning and night, telling me I'm beautiful until I believe it. It might take some time. My ex-husband has been hurling insults at me for years, and I've started to believe him.
Emily is swinging by later today after her shift at the bookstore, and I'm feeling a bit nervous. I've been in plenty of relationships before, but this one's different.
This is the first time with a woman and I'm scared to screw it up. I really like Emily, but it's complicated. She's my student and way younger then me. She makes me feel things I shouldn't, but at the same time I can't walk away. She has this hold over me, and just thinking about her makes my stomach flutter. I've never felt like this before for anyone and that unnerves me.
I shake my head, pushing away the doubts and distractions, and focus on grading papers. I've given my student the task to write about their favorite play we covered in class, but it's clear that many didn't pay attention.
As I'm grading papers, my mind wanders again, this time back to Tuesday when Emily came over while she was clearly struggling. She didn't want to be a burden and seemed hesitant, but I couldn't just let her leave in that state.
Once inside, I reassured her it was okay to take off her cardigan. Despite her initial hesitation, she eventually did, revealing her scars. She looked beautiful, and I made sure to tell her that. I don't know what she's been through to end up with those scars, but I do know that I want to be there for her.
She doesn't talk about it, and that's okay, but I can't shake off the worry. I'm not sure if it's something from her past that she's not ready to share or if she's still struggling in the present.
I'm torn between wanting to ask her about it and not wanting to intrude or make her uncomfortable. I genuinely care about her and wish to protect her from any potential harm, if possible.
As I ponder over everything, my phone alarm rings, reminding me that Emily will be here in an hour, prompting me to shower and prepare. I head upstairs, shower and put on my black pants and white button-up shirt, knowing it's a favorite of hers. I add a simple bracelet, watch, and necklace for jewelry.
After that I do my hair and makeup. I don't wear a lot, just some mascara and eyeliner. As I glance in the mirror, a knock at the door interrupts me and I know it's Emily. Im nervous again as I o downstairs, but it fades as I open the door and see her. She's dressed in boyfriend jeans and a white sweater, her hair up and a little messy, making me feel things.
Her smirk breaks my trance. "Did your mom never teach you it's rude to stare?" she teases, and I playfully roll my eyes, before pulling her into a kiss.
"Hi," I greet her, holding her as I close the door.
"Hi," she responds, wrapping her arms around my neck. "You look good," she compliments with a smile.
"I know," I joke, winking at her before adding, "so do you." Releasing her, I lead the way through the living room and into kitchen. "How was work?" I question.
"Alright, I guess. Couldn't wait to be done, though," she admits, leaning against the counter. Her response brings a smile to my face.
"Would you like anything to eat?" I offer, uncertain if she's already eaten.
"No thanks. I ate at work," she declines, taking a sip of the water I handed her and walking over to the couch.
"Okay," I reply, settling in beside her. "What would you like to do?" I ask, unsure of her intentions.
"I want to get to know you more, if that's okay with you. We'll ask each other questions," she suggests, careful not to overstep.
"That's fine by me. So, what do you want to know?" I inquire, lounging against the couch with my head propped on my hand. She gazes at me with a certain look in her eyes, and it's evident she likes what she sees. I can't help but smile to myself.
"I'll start with some easy ones," she says, pondering. "Who's your favorite author?"
"I don't have one favorite, but I've read the most books by Agatha Christie, so I guess her," I respond.
"Into crime, huh?" She smiles.
"Yeah, I really am. How about you?"
"I'm more of a horror fan," she explains, and I nod. "Your turn to ask a question," she prompts.
"Who's your favorite singer?" I ask.
"Lana Del Rey," and I nod in agreement. "She's one of my favorites too."
"Can I ask you some deeper questions?" she asks, and I can't help but wonder what kind of questions she's thinking about. So I agree.
"Have you ever been in a relationship with a woman before?" she probes, and I kind of expected this question.
"No, I haven't," I admit, and she smiles softly.
"When did you know you liked women?" she delves further, and I meet her gaze.
"From the moment I wanted to kiss you," I confess, and she looks down to my lips. As I feel the tension between us, I want to give in, but I also know this is a good time to get to know each other so I stay in place.
"When was that?" she asks and I recall, "that moment in the library." She nods as she remembers.
"Why didn't you kiss me then?" I wonder.
"If I did I it would've felt like I was taking advantage of you," she explains , and I feel a surge of warmth in my chest. She cared enough about me, even then, to prioritize my feelings over her own desires.
"How old are you?" she questions, and I chuckle.
"That took you long enough," I tease before revealing, "I'm forty two," and I observe her reaction. She smiles and I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean. "What?"
"I've just always had a think for older women," she confesses and I act offended.
"You think I'm old?" I joke.
"No," she reassures me with a smile. "I think you're perfect," she adds, and I'm momentarily speechless. She always knows the right thing to say, and now I know I won't be able to resist kissing her. Sensing my hesitation, she closes the distance between us and leans in for a kiss. I attempt to draw her closer, but she pulls away and fixes her gaze on me.
"What's wrong?" she asks, and I'm momentarily puzzled.
"I'm not sure what you mean," I respond, confused.
"I can sense something is bothering you," she insists, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "So, what's on your mind?"
"Nothing. I don't want to ruin the moment," I assure her, but she doesn't buy it.
"I don't care if it ruins the moment. There will be plenty more. Just tell me what's troubling you," she gently presses, and I sigh.
"I'm just worried, that's all," I admit, offering her a smile in an attempt to make her drop it, but she persists.
"Worried about what?" She questions. I hesitate, unsure whether to broach the topic. I don't know how she'll take it and I don't want to ruin anything we have right now, whatever that is. But I also know her well-being is more important then anything else.
"About you," I confess, watching for her reaction. She looks down, nervously rubbing her hands over her legs.
"Why would you be worried about me? I'm fine," she asserts, though her voice betrays a hint of pain.
"Because I care about you and want to help you," I explain.
"I don't need your help," she says, irritation evident in her tone. I know I'm pushing her buttons, but I need to ensure she's okay.
"I understand. I just want to know if you're still struggling with it, and if you are I want to be here for you," I attempt to convey my concern without causing further distress, but she grows increasingly agitated.
"It? It's not a curse. You can say it. It's called self harm. And no, I haven't done it in over a year. So I really don't need you to worry about me, I'm fine," she snaps, rising to her feet, clearly upset but maintaining her composure.
"I'm happy your clean, but that doesn't mean your fine or that you don't miss it,"I insist, rising as well. She sighs and turns toward me.
"You're right. I do miss it. Every fucking day, even. The only time I didn't have to think about it was when I'm with you," she confesses, tears streaming down her face. She's angry, but beneath it, she's hurting, which makes me go in for a hug. She steps back, meeting my gaze, her expression softening briefly before anger returns.
"I have to go," she declares, and I nod, acknowledging her feelings. I step aside to let her pass, and she hurries past me, opening the door before slamming it shut. She's angry, and I fear she might react worse than anticipated.
POV: Emily
I slam the door shut and take a deep breath. I can't believe she had to bring that up. She knows it's a sensitive topic and she kept pushing. I understand she's worried, but I hate that. I can't stand the look in her eyes. Looking at me like I'm something fragile, because I'm not. I've been through hell and back and sometimes it feels like I'm still on fire. She was the only person where everything went quiet. Where it was just me and her.
As im walking home im starting to calm down. The sunset is stunning, with its pink and orange hues painting the sky. I breathe in the fresh air before walking up my driveway and entering the house to the smell of pizza.
"Hi, mom. Hi, dad," I greet them in the kitchen.
"Hi, sweetie. How was your day?" Mom asks as she takes the pizzas out of the oven.
"It was fine. Busy day at the bookstore," I reply, settling in and grabbing a slice of pizza.
"Are you okay? You look a little worn out," dad observes, and I nod.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just tired from work and the walk, I guess," I explain, offering him a smile. He doesn't press further, seemingly accepting my answer.
They start talking among themselves a little and I scroll on my phone. The thought of reaching out to Hannah to ask if she want to talk tomorrow crosses my mind, but I hesitate and set my phone aside.
After finishing my meal, I head to my room and take a shower. As I dry off, the urge to send that message resurfaces. I grab my phone and start typing, only to erase it and set the phone aside once more.
I put my pjs on and do my skincare before brushing my teeth. I walk over to my bed and climb in. I'm not planning on going to sleep yet, but today really tired me out. As I'm thinking about it, my minds goes back to sending that message and I decide to act on it.
Emily
Can we talk tomorrow, please?
Hannah
I'd like that. I hope you're not to upset right now.
Emily
I'm okay. I'm sorry for walking away like that. You didn't deserve that at all.
Hannah
It's alright, I understand. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Just get some rest, okay?
Emily
I will. Thank you and good night, beautiful.
Hannah
🙄
I chuckle at her reaction, then set my phone aside and lay my head on the pillow. Regret washes over me for getting upset with her earlier. She's only trying to look out for me and help, and I got mad at her for it. I take a deep breath. There is nothing I can change about today, so I decide to let it rest. Tomorrow, I'll make sure she knows how much I appreciate her.
A/N
I tried writing from Ms. Anderson's point of view and I realised I need to bring more depth into her character and life. I'm working on it as we speak.
It's a shorter chapter, which I'm sorry for, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.
Again, if there's anything you'd like to see or something you'd like to see more of, lmk!
Regards
~N💋