Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Chase's PoV

I had seen her whiz past my new office on the third floor as if she was running away from something. I hadn't known it was her then and my initial intention had been to scold whoever was running in the hallways, especially when they were supposed to, either be in a class or in the common room.

When I had come out she was already running at full speed and what made me recognise her other than her mane of liquid night was the black tube of the 'smashbox' lipstick she dropped behind. It fell out of the back pocket of her jeans; I had picked it up and opened the tube to find that it was the same shade of blood maroon she had been wearing when she walked into school like a boss.

This activity cost me a few minutes and she seemed to have gone further away. I could hear footsteps in the distance and had immediately thought of someone climbing the stairs to one of the battlements.

However, she did not seem to have gone as far so I turned into the hallway leading to the fourth battlement; climbing the stairs at increasing speed and upon reaching the top I, to my dismay, found no one.

But as I neared the edge of the pillar I saw her.

There she was dressed in black, crying in a corner of the third battlement as she played with her sleeves and arms, at least that is what it looked like from the distance. I was gazing at the view and was flabbergasted when I saw her move towards the edge of the pillar.

I couldn't see her face clearly but it seemed to be blank. Devoid of any emotion. I wasted no time and rushed down the winding staircases at double the speed I had climbed them; I ran through the halls like a madman and upon reaching the staircase leading to the third battlement, I zoomed up the stairs, panting heavily.

I had made it in time but just barley so. The fear I felt at that moment was indescribable, it seemed to have frozen me to the spot and my mind had seemed to be working at a thousand miles per hour. All I knew was that I didn't have enough to time and so I didn't think twice before grabbing onto her waist and midriff, attempting to pull her down from the raised edge.

It was a difficult task because she kept on thrashing in my steel grip and I feared that the both of us would plummet to the ground, to our death and no one would have known what happened.

I have to admit though, as beautiful as she might have classified as, she looked deranged then and there; broken and perhaps even beyond repair.

The idea that I could do nothing to help her, well obviously unless she told me what was wrong, was gnawing at my insides, tormenting me. The sapphires she used as eyes seemed to be far off, in a daze, and to me she seemed anything but alive.

Realising that I was not going to let her go anytime soon, she sank in my arms, onto the hard stone, but she did not seem to be affected by the impact of her knees bashing into the ground.

So I sat down with her as she cried, I stroked her hair but refrained from whispering sweet nothings like, 'it's okay' and 'it's gonna be fine.' Because let's face the facts a person as distressed would only become more agitated by this.

Still being in a state of immense shock I almost didn't see the blood running down her arms and hands, dripping onto the cobblestone beneath us; I almost didn't even hear her whisper,

"Why?"

I was confused as to why that question was being asked,

"Pardon?"

"Why do you care?"

She screamed the words at me in frustration, no longer whispering, her face, now ashen, was coated in salty tears and streaks of mascara and as she attempted to wipe them away her maroon lipstick smudged to the sides of her mouth.

She looked like a lunatic. And for the first time in my life I was scared of what could have happened as well as what was happening. But I couldn't stop myself from giving her a reason or the first thing I could think of,

"I don't know why I care, okay? But I do and you and nothing and no one else can ever change that, ever!"

I was agitated too; just the thought of her even remotely having thought of jumping off onto the hard ground unsettled me and I didn't even know why; maybe I would have felt the same way about every student but what bothered me most was that she wasn't my student, yet.

I hadn't kept a check on my tone, letting have it become harsh, for in a weak, broken voice she replied to me,

"I'm sorry."

It was almost a caress of the wind against my ear but I knew the whisper had belonged to the girl in my arms; every bone in my body felt it.

You must question why I didn't call for an ambulance when I saw the blood running down her arms and that was because I knew it wasn't that much blood, meaning the cuts were not deep and fatal, besides, doing that would be a breach of her privacy.

Hence, I did what logically came to my mind; I questioned her about the statement she had just made,

"For what?"

"Everything."

Again a broken whisper sounded her answer.

"Don't be."

It was all I could think of saying at that time because anything else would have passed off as accusatory or demanding; I saved all my questions for later.

I held her trembling figure as I neared the jacket which lay there, in a secluded corner; completely disregarding the blade I picked up the jacket and put it around her shoulders.

"Come, lets go downstairs and get you cleaned up." I

I said to her softly, as I led her down as quietly as possible and into my new office, pointing to the attached bathroom, I told her to go freshen up.

I feared she had caught a cold, with what she was wearing and the altitude she stood at, it wouldn't come as a surprise if she came to school as Rudolph the red nose reindeer the next day.

She came back a few minutes later with her face washed and all signs of her tears gone away, she also seemed to have reapplied mascara and she looked pretty much put together if anything at all; the blood, too, washed away.

However, she seemed a little frantic when I offered her a cup of hot coffee that I had brewed and soon enough she voiced a reason for this,

"Sir, I'm extremely sorry for having put you through this", she continued to fiddle with her fingers anxiously, "trouble but you see I'll be late for my next class if I don't hurry up now."

"What is your next class then Miss?"

"Maths, Sir. With Mr. Damon."

"I suggest then, that you sit back and relax for some time."

"Excuse me?"

"Miss, I am not sure that you have heard but Mr. Damon has resigned last week and I am his replacement for the upcoming terms."

She seems to be taken aback at first but then I could see the screws turning in her head and something must have clicked because she sat back down and eased a bit into the sofa.

"Oh."

This was her only response and I took that as my cue to get up from behind my oak desk and and hand her the cup of warm coffee, alongside handing her back her tube of lipstick,

"Put this on after you're done drinking Miss, it makes you look powerful and strong."

She silently took the 'Smashbox' tube from me and clutched it tightly. No words were spoken and honestly I was still confused about how she had managed to clean and staunch the blood in such a short span of time.

I couldn't help myself so I attempted to lighten the mood,

"Yrene...did we not agree to call each other by our first names when alone?"

A ghost of a smile graced her lips before she nodded. But not all good things last for long and soon enough I had to ruin the mood; timidly adding on to my former statement,

"We can talk about it when you're ready, Yrene. Otherwise Bear will have to know and I can't put either of you through that trauma or even worse your family and authorities would have to be informed too and I frankly do not want to do that to you. Therefore, I suggest that we talk about it at your earliest convenience."

I give her a reassuring smile but it proves to be useless judging by how her head hung low; I realise then that this was going to be much more difficult than I had first presumed.