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His hand gripped my biceps tighter, almost painfully as he pulled me impossibly closer. The books and slides were digging into my skin as he held me there.
I met his gaze.
“You should know by now, I don’t take no for an answer.”
“And you should know by now,” I said, jerking my arm free of his grip, “that I don’t like to be manhandled, Mr. Sterling. Please, do yourself a favor, keep your hands to yourself.”
“If I don’t?” He sneered. His cheeks flushed with anger. He never liked hearing the word no. Bastard.
To throat punch him or to just walk away? That’s what was running through my head now. It might be the only part of this interaction that made him actually step back and get a grip on himself.
I may be a frazzled mess, but I could fight off a foe. My brother, Dan, and his best-friend, Callum, my ex…whatever we were, had made sure of that growing up.
One summer, they’d hounded me every single freaking day. Sneak attacks, scare tactics, you name it, and I was put through it. They finally stopped after I broke Dan’s nose with my elbow. The grasshopper had surpassed the teacher at that point.
That knowledge had come in handy during a Friday night football game my senior year of high school. I put one of the varsity football players of a rival team in the hospital with a busted nose and a dislocated shoulder.
See, he’d thought it would be a good idea to snatch up a cheerleader. I was small compared to his six-feet-and-some-change self. I was barely a solid 5’6”. He and another teammate said it was just a ‘prank’ when questioned by security and then the police.
Prank or not, they got their butts kicked by a girl, nonetheless. It was quite an event. So much, it was still being talked about on graduation night. The inside jokes and laughter had been a good reminder that no matter what, I could at least defend myself if I had to.
Then college…well, let’s just say, with my brother there to keep me from harm’s way during my freshman year, the rest was a breeze.
“Hey, Karebear, aren’t you late for class?”
I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath, and turned to find my brother walking my way. Thank you, baby Jesus. I gave him a grateful smile.
“Yeah, and stop with the nickname; I’m not ten anymore.” I tried to scowl at him, but the relief swirling through me stopped it in its tracks. I continued, “I’m on the way to class now, even if Professor Sykes is going to kill me for being late.”
He chuckled, reaching for the books and binders in my arms. His gaze cut to the man still skulking over me. “Professor Sterling, I do believe I passed a few students waiting outside your office door.”
Ian did not like the dismissal in Dan’s voice. I relished it. Bye-bye, joker.
“Good day, Professor Sterling.” I hurried along with my brother. It wasn’t until we’d turned on the next corridor that he spoke.
“Stay away from him, Kara. Something about him?—”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll work a little harder at it.”
Present Day
“Mr. Ingles, since you seem to be in a talkative way today, what would you say the author of this poem is telling us?”
I watched his brows pinch together as I slid the next poem onto the projector for all to see. For the last few days, I’d given each of my classes a chance to express themselves in the way of a poem.
I’d handed out paper to each of them as they’d entered my room. Let them do their cleansing writing, if they so chose, and they turned the papers in on the way out. They were placed in a basket, upside down and without me watching. There was only one rule: No names. This was a creative, voluntary assignment where no credit or grade was given—just a nice exercise to open their minds and feelings.
I did this from time to time myself when I could feel a mental cleanse was in order. I’d grab a notebook and just let out whatever was in my head. Free therapy, if you will.
I had no real idea of who had written what—yet a few I knew simply by the handwriting. But that knowledge stayed with me. Like with this poem. I could feel the person’s need to be heard. Their pain. I’d make sure to let my worries be known, but all in due time. I’d given them this exercise for a reason, after all.
Since this was a class project, I’d switched up what pieces were discussed in my class. This was from another class. I’d made sure to let them all know that when they’d come in. They’d get feedback about their entries from another class. One unbiased and raw.
I read the poem aloud for everyone, though they had a bird’s eye view of it from the white board where the projected image was.
I don’t sing anymore
Since you took away my voice.
