Thump.

I landed on my wooden floor with a thunderous groan.

“Damn it,” I hissed, my face uncomfortably squished against the wooden floorboards, “Stupid bed.”

Raising my left and only free hand, I rummaged around for the reason behind my pain, the bed. Sliding it over the roughed edges I forcefully slammed my palm against it, letting out a tiny squeak as I did so. Okay, idiotic idea.

Ouch.

Glancing down, I let out another groan, as I realised I was cocooned in my light blue duvet, my left leg wrapped around my right leg in a tangled mess; it left me struggling to stand up. Seriously, how did this happen?

Again.

“What happen-” My mother’s worried voice changed to one of humour as she began to laugh. Belly laugh. Whipping my head towards my doorway I glared at her.

“Not funny!” I stated. “Help me.” I began to wriggle, unknown to the fact that this just seemed to spur her on as she began to walk towards me shaking her head, her dark brown locks flurrying side to side. And of course she was still laughing.

“You look like a worm.” She giggled. Oh god she did not just say that, anything but that.

“Mum!” I shrieked, raising my free hand in the air as a protest. She held her own hands up in surrender and grabbed at the duvet, giving it a sharp tug, I rolled away from her ramming into my wall. Again ouch, thanks mum.

“Sorry,” She apologised, sincere as she held out a hand to help me up. Rolling my eyes I latched on as she pulled me up and gave me a quick hug. “Breakfasts ready.” She stated as she began to walk back out into the hallway, but not before leaving me with a booming laugh.

Laugh.

No Rayne, stop thinking about that. You are normal, normal.

Shaking my head free of any ridiculous thoughts I rushed towards my double wardrobe and grabbed whatever my hand could find first, then quickly donned my, most probably, unmatched outfit. Rushing past my mirror I took a quick glance.

Great. I looked an absolute state.

My mouse hair was knotted, spiked in every direction, taking the term ‘defying gravity’ to a whole new level. Not the best start to a new term, especially your last term. Ramming my brush through my hair, my mind kept relaying last night.

It was that dream, I thought.

No Rayne, stop that.

Slapping my hands to my cheeks, I ran my shaking hand through my hair as I hailed my school bag and raced down the stairs. The final step squeaking under protest as I forcefully jumped of the end, landing with a huff as I veered left towards the kitchen.

Slamming my bag down on the counter I settled into the tall chair at the breakfast table as I observed my mother gliding back and forth between the cooker and the plates, which held a mighty high pile of pancakes. Blueberry pancakes, my favourite.

“Are you ready for your last term of school?” Mum asked as she skilfully placed the last pancake on top of the tottering tower. Gripping both plates in either hand she turned to give me a small smile as she placed the pile of goodness in front of me.

“I guess,” I let out with a shrug, “I can’t wait for it to be over.” I laughed. Grabbing at the bottle of syrup I watched intently as I squeezed the liquid gold onto my favourite breakfast. My mother’s laugh rang out in the background, clearly understanding my statement about the end of school. She understood my hatred for learning; neither of us was highly academic, both preferring a hands on subject rather than the workings of the universe.

I glanced away from my prized possessions to watch her laugh, a rare occurrence for her as she was always swamped with work and was rarely sociable with any but me and her colleagues.

Mary Blake, my mother, was a freelance artist. She spent most of her time running a popular art gallery on the outskirts of London, which held her love of all things urban and old fashioned. It was my mother’s own prized possession, and it was what kept us living the way we were, nothing luxurious or extravagant, but it was our home, perfectly quaint, perfectly loveable.

As she smiled a fine line of wrinkles formed around her eyes, as they glittered with clear admiration for me, for her family, her only family.

“I’m surprised you don’t have cavities.” She grinned, clearly amused as I stuffed the last syrup swamped pancake in my mouth. I let out a grunt, which just widened her smile as she picked up our finished plates and plonked them in the dishwasher before snatching her keys hanging from her fortieth birthday present, a glass hook in the shape of a moon, her favourite shape.

“I’m off sweetie, have a lovely day, I’ll pick you up after school.” She finished with a light kiss to my forehead, and a quick ruffle to my already messy hair. Grimacing, I watched as she gracefully left the kitchen and listened out for the audible click of the front door closing. Leaving me alone, just like normal.

You’re not always alone though are you? The spiteful voice in the back of my head whispered.

Running a quick hand through my hair, hoping to rid myself of the memories, I observed my familiar surroundings. The light yellow kitchen, with its peeling paint, left the feeling of a well loved family home, with screaming kids that ran around all day, riling up their mother with their unstoppable squabbling. It’s a shame it was just me that did that, I would have loved a brother or sister, but I knew mum couldn’t do that, not without dad.

Sighing, I stood up abruptly, snatching my bag as I left for the front door, running my fingers over the granite work tops, the last DIY job my father had ever done.

“Bye dad.” I whispered as I reached for my own keys before leaving my safe haven behind.

My neighbourhood was pretty, I’ll give it that, but it wasn’t particularly fun. My neighbours were of the older generation, Mr and Mrs Benson the oldest of the lot, both reaching the grand old age of eighty eight. They were a lovely couple, who brought cookies for me on my birthday, always remembering that double chocolate chip was my favourite.

I smiled at the memory, taking a quick glance at their house to see the lights flicker off leaving the brown house surrounded by darkness, and the front door opening to reveal the couple, smiling at each other, clearly in love. A gave a quick wave as they spared a glance my way, before turning to see the bus pull up.

“Damn.” I whispered running to the stop before the tattered red bus decided to pull away. The closing doors where stopped by my hand as I let a quick huff in effort. The driver didn’t look best pleased; his bushy eyebrows were creased in frustration, his mouth set out in a straight line. Flashing my bus pass I let out a quick sorry before glancing up to look for a spare seat. Each set of seats were occupied by at least one person, all looking at me expectedly.

A quick gilt sent me flying forward, my hands grasping for a seat to hold onto. I light snicker to my right hand side left me blushing, a quick rise of red filling my cheeks, as I lifted my head and continued my journey up the moving bus.

Looking to my left I saw an older lady, mid thirties, squished closely to the side, newspaper in hand, reading. Taking a quick glance to my right I saw a girl, around my age, headphones disappearing into her black hair, the slight buzzing of her music making it obvious she was oblivious to the world around her.

Settling next to the newspaper woman, I gripped my bag in my lap, taking in the scenes of the bus. The dirt scratched its way up the windows, the littered floor full of old crisp packets and magazines. It’s not the nicest picture.

The backs of the passenger’s heads bobbed every time we stopped and started as someone new got on, every time it was either a school kid or a business man, waiting to arrive to their gruelling jobs. One head caught my attention, the snickering man.

His black hair was almost midnight, it waved around his head in disarray, oddly inviting. He held his head up high, watching the world go by, but the quick turns of his head to my direction stated he wasn’t particularly paying attention.

I caught his eye this time, those deep crystal eyes, sent my heart into frenzy.

So familiar.

I could feel myself gasping for air, my heart pummelling against my ribcage. Those eyes were so close to those eyes, those deep ocean eyes, so close to the pair I disliked. Locking my head to the side I settled for the outside view, trying to get my breathing under control, I counted as the trees went by.

One, two, three...

It was the same view five days a week, the line of trees unexpected of London, but this was the outskirts. They grew in every shape possible, both tall and short, they lined the streets on my way to school.

Fir-view high.

Truthful to its name, the school was enclosed by endless fir trees. They ran each edge, bringing greenery to the prison like building. It stood tall, bricks of every dark colours built up the walls of my own personal hell.

Clambering off the bus, I followed the groups of laughing school kids to the entrance gate, before taking a quick glance back, only to notice those blue eyes on mine, a small smirk forming on the edge of his pink lips.

Thump, thump, thump.

My heart almost lost its rhythm, how can something so beautiful, smirk so evilly?

Stop Rayne.

Ripping my gaze from his I fast paced it into the school court yard, where dozens of school children, ranging from year eights to sixth formers, all hung around with their friends, laughing and joking around. One group of guys were high fiving, before going at each other in a friendly fight, their laughter echoing around the yard.

Making my way inside I walked it through the flyer stricken walls and headed to my tutor room, slamming myself down in a chair at the far back and waited for the bell to indicate that torture was about to began.

Student after student began piling in, quickly spotting their seats and animatedly started chatting to their neighbours about their half term, clearly forgetting the teacher at the front, who was furiously ticking away at her computer taking quick glances to see which students were present.

Letting out a soft sigh I leant back in my chair as Mrs White finally called attention to the class and began to mumble on and on about making this term the best of our lives. Rolling my eyes I let my gaze waver to each student, occasionally stopping when I saw a few has obviously over slept like I had. Their make up slightly smudged, hair battered and frizzy, I let out a small smile, happy that I at least had something in common with them.

I raised hand at the front brought each head to whip to the left, clearly not understanding why someone would ask question on their last term at Fir-view. Mrs White’s eyes widened in recognition at something the boy had said, his light blonde hair bobbing as he nodded his head at the teacher’s response.

“Class this is Tim,” She smiled, glancing at the boy who had stood up and turned to face the class. “Would you like to introduce yourself?” She asked him, his pale cheeks filled with the slightest tint of colour as his dark eyes scanned the curious students. Tim’s eyes caught mine as he passed, a slight smile lighting up his face as he continued to glance around.

“I-I’m Tim, I’m eighteen and I like r-reading.” He stuttered out, clearly embarrassing himself as a few students around me started snickering and sending humours glances towards each other. I knew what he was going through, although I had been growing up with these teenagers, they never took a second glance at me unless I had messed up.

Take the time when I dropped a vile of acid in the science room, which had burnt a whole right in the centre of my text book. I was laughed at for weeks.

Tim’s cheeks had turned tomato as he quickly scampered his way back into his seat, turning to the front and stared at the whiteboard, not moving even when tutor was dismissed.

I looked on as Mrs White left for her own class, and thus turned my attention to Tim as he pulled out a large notebook from his bag, taking a quick glance back at me. He blushed again as he realised I had caught him looking, but my own cheeks filled with colour as I realised I was actually watching him.

“Hi,” I smiled at him, my eyes slightly widening in shock that I actually talked to someone in this school, blinking, I continued, “I’m Rayne.” He smiled then, a big toothy grin as he swiped his blonde hair from out of his eyes before saluting me.

“Tim,” He laughed, “It’s nice to meet you.” He finished before turning back to the board as more students began piling in.

Taking out my English book and a reading book, the only academic subject I actually wanted to take, I settled it on my desk before quickly grabbing my sketchbook and pencils. Taking a quick look back at Tim I noticed he was already reading, his head deeply buried inside the story. I smiled; at least someone had the same interests as me.

Maybe this term would be different.

“Sorry I’m late,” The door opened with a bang, leaving half the class jumping out their seats, including me. “I’m Mr Willis, your substitute for today.” He quickly plonked his brief case on the floor before turning towards us.

My heart flat lined.

My gaze didn’t waver from those eyes, that hair, that stupid, beautiful smirk. The guy from the bus smiled at the class, before quickly turning to the white board and writing his name in cursive writing.

I didn’t understand, the man hadn’t gotten off the bus, he was sat in his seat when the bus pulled away, I was sure of it.

Maybe he got off on the other side of school.  My stupid subconscious thought, clearly remembering that the teachers could enter on the other side.

I huffed as I leant back in my chair watching as every female in class contradicted my move by leaning forward, quickly fixing their hair and putting on a fake grin. My gender disgusted me sometimes.

“That’s okay.” Stacey, miss stuck up, smiled at him. He nodded at her before his gaze abruptly locked onto mine. I sucked in a breath as the blue hew of his eyes fixed solely on me, before being ripped away as yet another student promised him it was okay to be late to class, even though he was the teacher.

“We’ll be studying Hamlet today, so take out your books and start reading, raise your hand if you don’t understand anything.” He smiled before walking casually to his seat behind the mahogany desk, his smile dropping to a smirk as his gaze yet again wavered to me.

My heartbeat rapidly increased as I quickly lowered my gaze and began to read a favourite classic.

I don’t particularly know how long had gone by before I began to aimlessly doodle in my sketchbook, the sharp pencil becoming less so as I shaded in the shocking image. One I didn’t even know I had started.

Mr Willis’s eye’s stared back at me, those eyes that were so familiar haunted the page as I finally finished the last eyelash. My breathing had picked up when I realised what I had done, I had drawn my teachers, my teachers, eyes.

Seriously Rayne?

I looked up shocked hoping that no-one had seen what I had done; this would surely be another talk of the week, no matter how embarrassing Tim’s little speech was. Curiously I looked at Tim, my small smile dropping when I realised he was still engrossed in his book, but something was different. It was like he was so into Hamlet that he had stopped.

In fact, so had everyone else in the room.

They were frozen. Even Stacey who was slightly turned towards her friend was frozen mid speech, her hair whipped out, hanging in mid-air. I sucked in a deep breath.

What was going on?

The slight echo of footsteps caught my attention, as I focused on the ridiculous drawing I had created. My eyes caught onto the front of a pair of dark sued shoes as they stood directly in front of my desk, the slight tapping of their left foot, as if they were waiting for something. Firm hands grabbed onto the front of my table, clasping the edges tightly as their breath began mixing with my hair. A slight shiver ran its course down my spine.

“Cute.” A familiar voice sneered. The hair on my neck stood to attention. Seriously? Teachers were definitely not allowed to say words like cute, or in fact freeze their whole classroom bar one teenager.

“But I’m not a teacher.” Mr Willis laughed.

Oh no.

I whipped my head up quickly the slight crack rang through the silent classroom, and instead of Mr Willis stood before me, it was him.

His laugh.

 Here we go again.

-------------------------------------AUTHORS NOTE---------------------------------------

So the next chapters up Yaaay (thanks for the 100 reads guys)

Please comment/vote/follow if you want :)

Thanks,

Ellie x