A Confrontation?

The bell rang.

I bolted from my seat as several others did, for their reason of wanting to escape from this boring lesson, a succession of many others in their day. But my purpose was completely different. Jerking the zip of my bag open, I slipped my textbook inside before slinging the bag over my shoulder, hurrying towards the door.

Casting a frantic glance to the back of the room where Damien sat for the lesson, I noticed he was missing.


I jumped, slamming against the doorframe. Turning, I glared up at Damien who had that innocent smile on his face, his light green pools sparkling.

"How was class?"

"Leave me alone," I whined, moving out of the way to let the students behind me escape the refines of the history classroom. Their groans got to me and muttering an apology over my shoulder, I entered the school hallway and headed towards the direction of the Spanish class. I remember seeing it in the same corridor as the French room so it shouldn't be too hard to locate.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, keeping by my side as I hurried through, hoping to lose him in the sea of students.

"Should I have to for you to know the answer?" I shot back at him sharply.

A hand wrapped around my wrist, yanking me back, not in a painful way but it annoyed me nonetheless. Turning back unwillingly, I looked down at the cool hand that held me in place before glaring up at Damien. All traces of humor had disappeared from his face, now replaced with something that resembled desperation.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

The End

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