Today is the first day of college and a new journey for me. I started a part-time job over the summer. This was not my ideal choice but I work in a coffee shop, which helps pay the rent to a small apartment I have been living in since I was seventeen. I have been able to save up some of the money earned for my tuition fees too. I'm alone with no one and nothing much to my name.
My parents died in an explosion that occurred at a hotel while on a business trip. It was featured all over the news and media. We had had everything and I was their only child.
When they died, I had to give up our house and what was left of the money and was forced to look for a small apartment. That is where I have been living ever since. The money didn’t last and I had to sell many of the things we owned until I had nothing more to give away.
That's how I ended up working in the coffee shop with no experience. Fortunately for me, the owner was kind enough to offer the job to me.
I have always been fascinated with history. From war to the Queen, and everything. My ambition in life is to become a history professor someday in the future. So, this is my first day at Beacon university to make that dream come true.
I walk down the building's corridor, where some students are walking, standing around or chatting with each other, and laughter erupts from one group as I walk past up to my classroom. I'm always one to be punctual. I don't have friends, and I'm yet to develop the need for them. After what happened last year, I learnt that friends can stab you in the back, and I've never fully recovered from it.
I enter my History class and find no one in it. I walk further into the classroom and take a seat at the third desk from the middle row. I had a pair of black skinny jeans on, a black t-shirt and white converse sneakers. My straight brunette hair was loose, and I had a natural makeup look on that still made my golden brown eyes stand out. I am a petite, yet curvy young woman.
I take my History books out of my satchel and place them on top of my desk. I set my satchel on the ground beside me, and cross my legs, opening my books to get ready for the lesson. I grab the pen with my right hand, sitting with one elbow on the desk and rest my head on my hand as I read through a page about the Treaty of Versailles.
I hear shuffling as the students enter the classroom. One thing about me is that I prefer to be alone and talk only when it is necessary. I now shift and lean against the back of my desk, never taking my eyes off the passage that I am reading from the textbook.
The last year taught me a bitter lesson- never trust anyone. Not even friends because they will do anything to destroy you, even when you did absolutely nothing wrong to them. The embarrassment that I had to face hurt me, and I just had to take it all in.
Being alone is far better than trying to fit in. It also doesn’t have to make me a people pleaser. Whenever I spoke, I would be spoken over. So, I would remain quiet.
“Hey, do you have the rest of the semester's schedule?” A girl whispered behind me. I page through my textbook, take out my semester schedule, turn around and hand it over to her. “Thank you,” She whispered with a smile.
I turn back around and I hear a throat clear just as I want to keep on reading. “Welcome to your first year at Beacon university. I am Professor James, your History professor.” I look up from the textbook and my breath hitches making me feel like all the air had been sucked out of me.
My heartbeat is the only sound I hear and nothing else.
His magnetic blue eyes hold my gaze and he seems to be frozen into place as he looks at me. This feels like a nightmare and a dream wrapped up all in one.
He clears his throat, breaking eye contact with me, and I look down at my textbook, hoping for this to be a dream. I run my tongue over my bottom lip, to moisten it from being dry.
I swallow as my throat feels dry too. “We will be doing the Treaty of Versailles for a start.” He said. His voice still sounds the same and I take a deep breath as I look up to see if he is truly real.
I find his eyes already on me and swallow again. I do not know whether I should leave or remain seated here.
A guy in front of me plops a stack of pages on my desk and that breaks our eye contact. I move my hair behind my ear as I take a page from the pile and pass the rest to the back. I focus my attention on the page instead.
I cannot look at him because of what happened.
“There was a war that broke out unexpectedly following the July Crisis in 1914. Austria-Hungary then declared war on Serbia, which was followed by the entry of most European powers into the first world war. The July Crisis, you may ask, was a series of interrelated diplomatic and military escalations among the major powers of Europe in 1914. That led to the outbreak of world war 1.” I listened to what he was saying but my mind was not on the lesson at all. My throat feels like it's closing up and the next thing I find best to do is to leave the room.
I pack up my things in a hurry and hear him ask, “Miss Marshal, is there a problem?” I remain silent and continue packing my things. I feel immense heat as if I have been in an oven baking for too long. I stand up and sling my satchel over my shoulder as I hurry out of the classroom.
Cool air hits my skin as I stop outside the classroom door, and I close my eyes letting out a sigh of relief. Opening my eyes, I begin to walk down the hall. I need to get to the bathroom so that I can spend the rest of the class period there.
I hear a door slam shut, but I do not look back at all. “Miss Marshal!” I hear him call after me and hasten my paces but then feel a hand grip my wrist, stopping me. I turn to look at him and his brows are furrowed. “Why did you leave my class without permission?” he asks with his jaw clenched, and his blue eyes darken.
He never had this attitude before.
It developed after what happened to us.
“Get back to my class!" He demanded. I swallow as I feel the sparks like electricity as he maintains his grip on my wrist.
I breathe in his familiar delicious scent. “I don't want to cause any harm to you,” I said.
“I told you to get back to class.” He repeated while holding my gaze.
“You shouldn't be touching me. '' I said as I started to feel suffocated by him, and he let go of my wrist like he had got burnt. He takes a step back and keeps on holding my gaze.
The man that I had hoped would not see me again was standing right in front of me. I would not waste my tuition money, but I could try to change classes even though it was going to be something I would hate.
I cannot face him even though I try.ns 220.127.116.11da2