《The Devil You Know》 Prologue I''ve been obsessed with her since the first moment I saw her. My need for her all consuming. I knew that eventually she''d be mine, but at the beginning I was willing to take whatever piece of her I could get. So, I resigned myself to watching her. At first it was just secretly, at night while she slept, when the shadows and darkness hid my lurking figure. It was thrilling to watch her without her knowledge, to see her in her most private moments, completely vulnerable. I would watch her doing simple things like laying in bed and reading a book. But I also watched her at times when I knew she''d want no one watching, times when she thought she was all alone. Over time I started to wonder if she knew I was watching. I imagined her putting on a little show just for me. Times when she walked around in just her panties and oversized sweater, bending over to pick something up, I wondered if that was for me, for my watching eyes that stalked her figure from within the shadows. I knew she would never admit it, not even to herself, but I knew that she enjoyed me watching her and fantasizing about her.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Eventually my need for her grew. I no longer got the same satisfaction by just watching her. I wanted more and I sensed she did too. I put cameras in her house to see more of her, to have more of her. It was simple enough to get into her home. I broke in when she was out, picking her locks within a few seconds. The smell of her hit me as soon as I entered her room. It was intoxicating, consuming. My lust for her grew to an almost unimaginable level just from her scent. I pIaced cameras, hidden carefully, around her house. I wanted to watch her every move. I couldn''t control her, not yet anyway, but knowing that I could watch her whenever I wanted gave me the power I craved. I was the Devil, and she my Persephone. Whether she liked it or not, I would drag her to the depths of Hell with me. One - Detective Pierce ¡°From the sounds of it, this one is fucking grusome Pierce.¡± Her Captain¡¯s voice was raspy and coarse. He¡¯d probably rolled out of bed not long before she had. ¡°What was called in exactly Captain?¡± ¡°All dispatch could tell me was that there was a body off the exit halfway between Bellingham and Mount Vernon. They said the caller was shaken, kept sobbing about blood and eyes.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± It was too early for this. ¡°I¡¯ll check it out then come in and report back.¡± She ended the call and placed her phone in the cup holder next to her coffee. The rain pounded against her windshield as she drove to the scene. It was early, far too early and her coffee had yet to kick in, meaning her vision blurred as she struggled to see through the slithering streaks of rain tracing across the glass in front of her. It was a cold winter night, morning now actually. She had the defroster blasting the front windshield, trying to hold off the fog that would distort her ability to see even further. Dispatch had said the body was off exit 240, just north of the Skagit Valley. It was a vacant space between towns, full of nothing but the vast emptiness of towering trees. She¡¯d done a few traffic stops out here back when she was a uniformed officer and even with her training, her gun on her hip, this place had always unnerved her. It was so dark, so silent, so empty and alone out here. She knew that at this time of day it would be pitch black, so dark not even the shadows of the trees would be visible. She hoped the uniformed officers had set up enough spotlights for whatever horror she¡¯d be walking into. They didn¡¯t get a lot of calls for bodies here. In Whatcom, up north, they got plenty of overdose calls, and in King County to the South there was plenty of death, but Skagit was quieter. The population here was diverse, a lot of migrant families mixed with new hipsters who moved here for the hops grown in the valley and used to make their favorite hazy IPAs. It was a mismatched but peaceful community here. Kaitlin had grown up here, lived here her whole life. Her father had been a sheriff''s deputy here, her grandfather before him. She¡¯d never seen a life for herself other than the one she was currently living - a detective in her hometown. She was a stereotype she knew, a hometown sweetheart who followed in her family¡¯s footsteps, making detective younger than most others due to her unrelenting determination, bordering on obsession, to the job. She even worked so hard that she had no personal life, just a sad cat waiting at home for her. She had leaned into the stereotype, she knew she was becoming when she¡¯d decided to adopt her tabby Thomas three years ago. When she drove up on the scene the darkness had been driven away by a cascade of bright lights. Red and blue cruiser lights painted the dark sky in swirling rotations. Bright spotlights broke through the oppressive stillness of the trees, casting a brightness on the horror that resided here. Kaitlin could sense it as she approached, before she even put the car in park a sense of impending dread filled her soul. Something bad had happened here, something awful.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°Detective Pierce.¡± One of the uniformed officers greeted her as she exited her vehicle. She pulled on her hood, shielding her head from the soft wind and steady rain of the Washington winter. The uniformed officer escorted her towards the carnage on display beneath the spotlights. He was a tall man with tan skin and dark features. He looked young, nervous. She wondered how long it¡¯d been since he graduated the academy. His hood was down, the rain cementing his hair to his face. ¡°What do we got here?¡± She asked as they approached. ¡°Female. White. Appears to be in her 20s. Nude. It¡¯s . . .¡± He trailed off, clearly unwilling or unable to put into words the scene. She could see the fear quivering in the young man¡¯s face. That fear unnerved her. ¡°Please officer, continue describing the scene.¡± She prompted with both compassionate and unapologetic authority in her tone. That no nonsense attitude is one of the reasons she¡¯d risen to detective so quickly, she didn¡¯t back down. He took a calming breath, steadying himself before continuing. ¡°It¡¯s a gruesome scene detective. She was tortured, assaulted, had her throat slashed, then was posed. Whoever did this is a sick fuck.¡± Kaitlin slowly approached the body on the ground. Jesus, he wasn¡¯t being dramatic. This was gruesome. She was -. She had been a beautiful young woman. Her creamy white skin was dotted with a splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Across her neck was a giant, gaping slash. Streams of dried and oozed blood pooled from the horrific wound. The cut was so gaping, she could see the tendons of the young woman¡¯s throat sliced open. Strawberry blond hair was swept around her face in soft, delicate curls, blood stained the lower half, turning the soft pale red a sickening shade of death and decay. Her naked body was covered in an array of various injuries - cuts, bruises, bite marks, scrapes and burns all marred the delicate landscape of her pale flesh. Dark, deep bruises were formed along her wrists, clear signs she¡¯d been bound. The hell this poor woman went through before she died must have been unbelievable. Her green eyes must have once been strikingly beautiful, now they just sat open staring up at the night sky, blank and empty. Kaitlin had the urge to close her lids, shield her from the steady stream of rain still coming down. Without taking her eyes from the grotesque scene laid out on the side of the road in front of her, Kaitlin resumed her conversation with the uniformed officer. ¡°Any leads on ID?¡± ¡°A wallet dumped nearby held a license that appears to be her. Name on the ID is Allison Lewis. 26 years old.¡± Kaitlin felt entranced by the young woman¡¯s eyes. She was so sweet and soft looking. Who could do such a thing to someone like this? And then to dump her like a piece of trash, leaving her here cold and naked and wet and alone in the darkness. The killer would have had to look at those hollow piercing eyes, completely devoid of life, when they placed her here and left her. They looked into her open eyes, and posed her with her head to the sky and her legs spread so far apart her entire center was exposed. What kind of fucking psycho could do that? Kaitlin leaned over the body, careful not to touch anything, staring into the woman¡¯s eyes as if her soul might still linger her, willing her to listen as she told the detective who did this to her. She wanted justice for this young woman, and she wanted it badly. ¡°What happened to you Allison?¡± Two - Allison It was a warm Spring day. The buds on the trees were threatening to burst, plush petals pushed their way towards the sun. As Allison drove into work that day she savored the crisp morning air and warm sunlight streaming in through the open windows of her white Lexus SUV. After a long, cold, wet winter full of endless days of rain, even something as simple as opening the windows on her morning drive brought a smile to her face. She knew it would also inevitably mean the students would be extra squirrely, barely able to keep their seats in their seats today, but she didn¡¯t care, she closed her eyes momentarily and savored this beautiful morning. The wind whipped through her hair, casting strawberry blond locks across her freckled face. She smiled again. Something within her told her that it was going to be a good day. She turned into her spot in the faculty lot, rolling up her windows and swinging on her staff badge. She slipped her legs out of her car, onto the pavement right as Catie pulled into the spot two down from hers. Catie Mills was a tall, thin blond woman with a trigger mouth. She wasn¡¯t ever afraid to voice her opinions and speak her mind. She was sassy and sarcastic. Allison envied her confidence. Catie had been her staff mentor when she¡¯d started teaching here, a veteran teacher who showed newer teachers the ropes at the school. Actually, Allison had been Catie¡¯s sub when she went on maternity leave, it had been her in at the school. Catie wasn¡¯t that much older than Allison but had worked at the school for several years. Catie¡¯s knowledge, confidence and ability to connect with students made her one of the most respected teachers in the department. Allison had spent several years working as a long term substitute after getting her teaching license, and landing this job, having Catie as her mentor and now friend, being a part of this staff felt like a blessing every day. ¡°Emergency stand up staff meeting in the library in like five minutes.¡± Catie grumbled at her, taking a swig of coffee as their steps fell in line with one another. ¡°What? Why?¡± Catie simply shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Email came like ten minutes ago. Just said meet in the library, no extra information.¡± They walked together into the large white building ahead, Allison swiping her badge against the pad to release the locks on the glass front doors. For a high school theirs wasn¡¯t huge, approximately thirteen hundred students in total. The looming white building was the oldest high school in town but also the nicest, located right in the downtown of Bellingham. Students often left the school to run across the street to the absolutely amazing sandwich shop for lunch and the teachers were known to congregate at the brewery that was located a single block behind the school after their required work hours had finished. There were always people flying past the building on bikes or strolling around past the shops that surrounded the southern end of the school. Some of the other high schools in town were removed, tucked away into the silence of the trees. Allison liked that their school was downtown, it made it feel more alive. But it also meant they had to be vigilant, keep an eye on who should and shouldn¡¯t be on the school grounds. After all, they were within walking distance to the famous ¡°Ted Bundy Bar,¡± a waterfront watering hole with a sign declaring Ted Bundy had stopped there to have a drink during his reign of terror in the PNW. All staff wore their badges at all times, a sign they were supposed to be there, weren¡¯t trespassing, weren¡¯t a monstrous serial killer stalking prey. They trudged down the white and grey checkered hallway towards the library. It was a dark room, with low hanging fluorescent lights and ancient gray carpeting. It desperately needed to be updated, but school budgets are what they are. The walls were lined with honeyed shelves of books. Long tables were placed in the center of the room facing the librarian¡¯s desk and check out counter. All the staff was congregated around the tables in the center of the space, sitting in the worn out chairs. Their principal, Eric, was standing in the front, leaning against the check circulation desk. Catie and Allison grabbed a seat at the ELA department¡¯s table. They were never assigned to particular seats but each department, once upon a time, had claimed a table and that was their sacred space. No one dared sit at a different table or switch things up, it would be considered blasphemous among the older staff members. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Her department chair, Susan, gave her a sweet smile as Allison sat. Susan was warm and protective and kind. She was also an amazing teacher and someone Allison looked up to. If Catie or Susan told her to do anything Allison would do it without a second thought or question, she trusted them to guide her in the right direction and look out for her always. The rest of the department sat with their faces buried in their laptops, planning and grading and emailing. ¡°Anyone know what this is about?¡± Catie asked, slinging her teal messenger bag to the floor. ¡°Eric will speak in just a moment.¡± Susan responded, as if she knew slightly more than everyone else but not much. Returning her attention to Allison, Susan asked her about her weekend. Allison was about to lie, tell her it was good but boring, when Eric pushed off from the desk behind him, drawing the attention of the entire staff. ¡°As you all know, Ms. Dubois has been out these past few weeks,¡± he began, causing a hushed and uncomfortable silence to settle across the room. Immediately Catie¡¯s hand shot up to interrupt. Eric¡¯s eyes fell on her and she interjected without waiting for him to call on her. ¡°Have the police found any sign of her yet? Any clues?¡± Catie asked him sharply. Sonya Dubois was a younger business teacher. She¡¯d started around the same time as Allison. She was a curvy, warm, blond woman who tried to bring fun and laughter to her classroom by bringing in as many games and hands on activities as she could. The students liked her and Allison knew some of the boys maybe even liked her class a little too much considering it was a lot of math and economics involved in the curriculum. She¡¯d disappeared two and half weeks ago. She¡¯d never shown up for work that Wednesday and so the school had called for a welfare check. Her apartment was ransacked and she was gone, seemingly without a trace. The thought of it sent a cold shiver up Allison¡¯s spine. ¡°No. The police haven¡¯t updated me much, but last I heard, there were still no leads.¡± Eric answered Catie before continuing. ¡°But the show must go on, as they say. So, we¡¯ve finally found a long term replacement who will take over her position for the foreseeable future.¡± To Allison that sounded ominous, like a long term solution to what they had all been hoping was a short situation. Eric motioned to the doors behind her as someone entered the library. The entire staff swung around to look at the doors as he entered. Allison¡¯s breath hitched for a moment in her throat. There stood the most attractive man she had ever seen. He was tall, very tall, with broad, muscular shoulders. He was wearing a tight black tee shirt, fitted in such a way that she was able to tell he was muscular all over, with a black blazer over top, dark jeans and checkered Vans. He had longer black hair that framed his chiseled jaw perfectly. But it was his eyes that she couldn¡¯t peel her gaze away from, sharp icy blue eyes that were staring right back at her. She was surrounded by a room of people, a room of colleagues, and yet it felt like they were the only two people there as their eyes locked. Something inside her swelled and churned, making her suddenly very uncomfortable, but she was unable to turn away from him. His lips tilted up at the corner, a smirk spreading across his face. Fuck. He broke eye contact first, turning his gaze to the front of the room as he continued walking. Allison held her breath as he walked past her to the front of the room and stood next to Eric. He turned and faced the staff with a small smile on his face. He looked as though he was trying to appear slightly uncomfortable and humble, but she could tell it was a show, he oozed confidence. ¡°This is Gabriel Parson. He has years of experience working in corporate finance but also is a licensed teacher and when he read about Ms. Dubois in the paper he offered to fill in. We thought he¡¯d make a great addition to the team here so please join me in welcoming him.¡± Eric started clapping and everyone followed suit. The man¡¯s gaze fell on her again. Allison felt like she was drowning, legitimately drowning as she looked into those eyes. She needed to get a grip. This was ridiculous, she was acting more hormonal than her freshmen students. She took a deep breath and managed to pull her eyes away from his, towards her phone that was buzzing in her hand. An alert of a text message buzzed across her Lock Screen. HUBBY: Hey babe. Sorry again about this weekend, I promise I¡¯ll be better. How¡¯s work so far today? A pit formed in Allison¡¯s stomach as she realized how lustfully she¡¯d just been looking at a man who was definitely not her husband. Three - Detective Pierce It was another cold, dark, rainy day. The sun may not shine for weeks in Washington but at least the winter weather was predictable in its awfulness. The wind and rain were light today thankfully, a steady drizzle that had been falling for what felt like days and weeks on end. Heavier rains could cause enough flooding in the valley to do damage which was the biggest concern here in terms of winter weather. Kaitlin stopped next to the small window, rolling down her car window and exposing her black leather interior to droplets of moisture. ¡°The usual today?¡± The barista inside the coffee cart asked her. The young woman had purple hair and piercings all across her face, a stark contrast to her warm and sweet personality. Kaitlin always stopped at this same coffee cart even though there was literally one every other block here. She was a creature of habit. The baristas knew her order - triple Americano with one scoop of white mocha powder and cream. ¡°Please.¡± Kaitlin responded, offering the girl her punch card and debit card. Kaitlin was on her way to speak to the coroner about the girl they¡¯d found last week. The autopsy was finally complete and Dr. Lee was ready to run through the report of her findings. Kaitlin knew she¡¯d need some caffeine in order to wake herself up enough for this meeting. The crime had been gruesome and the long days of the past week had been difficult. She¡¯d worked late that night, looking through every piece of the scene. She had a team of uniforms scour the entire area and bag anything that could even possibly be worth evidentiary value. In all honesty, she had never seen an attack so vicious and she wasn¡¯t exactly sure what she was looking at. She figured she¡¯d rather be safe than sorry so she had them bag anything and everything. Her instinct told her this crime was personal. Her legs had been spread wide, exposing her genitalia, suggesting the offender wanted to humiliate her. The amount of effort the perp put in to torturing, mutilating, destroying the victim was horrific. Part of Kaitlin worried that the perp they were looking for might be the devil himself. The mountain of evidence would take the lab weeks, if not months to sift through. The most troubling part of the scene to Kaitlin had been the symbol carved into the victims flesh. Some type of very sharp instrument had been used to carve a hook with a cross at the end, intersected with a semi circle into the victims chest. Kaitlin had asked the coroner to try her best to determine if it had been done pre or post mortem but she hadn¡¯t received the report. Something about the symbol shook Kaitlin to her core, but she wasn¡¯t quite sure why. Some of the evidence had led to immediate discoveries thankfully. Lack of blood at the scene told them that it was a dump job - she¡¯d been killed somewhere else and then left there to rot on the side of the road. Additionally, the victims wallet had been discarded nearby the body. Her license was still inside, leading them to the name of their victim. Her victim was Allison Clarke, a 26 year old school teacher. Kaitlin had learned that the victim was a local girl. Allison had grown up in a Seattle suburb before attending UW where she received a degree in secondary education. She married into a wealthy family shortly after graduating and worked as a high school teacher in Bellingham. Her husband, Brody, worked at the family business, a very successful string of companies ranging from local brew pubs to petrol distribution. The Clarkes were well known around town, their family money having earned them recognition after several generations of successful patriarchs bought up more and more stake in the town. Bellingham wasn¡¯t a small town but it wasn¡¯t a large one either. Everyone here seemed to be connected to everyone else in some way or another. The ¡°Seattle Freeze¡± extended this far North, keeping outsiders away for the most part. She¡¯d learned her victim was well liked by pretty much everyone. She was loved by her family and friends, her students respected and liked her, no one seemed to have a bad word to say about her. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. There were so far no red flags in Allison¡¯s life so far. She seemed to be living a happy, quiet life as a successful and well liked teacher. But this crime was personal. Someone must have wanted Allison dead. Kaitlin¡¯s best lead right now was the first murder, the Dubois case. It seemed too much of a coincidence that two young women who worked at the same school would both be murdered and it not be related. Problem was that one mysterious and unsolved murder wasn¡¯t a great lead for a second mysterious murder. The mother had positively identified Allison¡¯s body, breaking down into uncontrollable cries of anguish at the sight. Allison¡¯s father had died years ago and she¡¯d been an only child. KaitlSince then the mother had called every single day to ask if they knew what happened to her child and every single time Kaitlin had felt her guts twist into uncomfortable knots when she told the woman no. Hopefully today would bring her closer to answers for this mother. Kaitlin held out her hand to retrieve her cards and coffee from the barista before rolling back up her window and putting her car in gear. She drove off towards the coroner¡¯s office while sipping her coffee. The drink seared her tongue, but she didn¡¯t notice, her mind was elsewhere. ****** ¡°Pierce, give us an update.¡± Her captain¡¯s voice was gruff, abrasive. Everyone was on edge with this case. They were sitting in the large conference room within the station. This room had become the command center for the case. The victim was cute, white, affluent and a teacher - a recipe for a media circus. The press had been breathing down their necks since the morning after the body was discovered. There was a lot of pressure to solve this case, and soon. The story had started to be picked up by some national news outlets. Her captain was becoming more and more impatient with each passing day as more and more press descended on the town. They were all camped right outside, hounding them for information as they entered the station. ¡°Not much to report yet unfortunately. I meet with the coroner this afternoon and I am still waiting to hear back from the experts.¡± She¡¯d sent pictures of the carving on the victim out to experts on ancient civilizations and societies, hoping someone could identify it. She hadn¡¯t heard anything back yet from any of them. Apparently the academics were busy. ¡°Are we thinking this is a cult like thing?¡± Detective Barnes, one of the old timers of the department, asked. He was well past retirement age Kaitlin was pretty sure but refused to leave. He spent pretty much every day with his ass glued to his desk seat. She didn¡¯t know the last time she¡¯d seen him go out into the field. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so.¡± Kaitlin responded. Immediately there had been whispers on the scene about cults and satanic rituals, Kaitlin suspected it was due to the carved into the victim. Thankfully the press hadn¡¯t gotten wind of that yet. If they did it would be a complete shit show. The satanic cult sacrifice angle was one the press loved to spin, it captured some part of the public imagination that was secretly fascinated with the dark and macabre. During the late eighties and nineties America went through what was coined the ¡°Satanic Panic.¡± Satanic cults were blamed for hundreds of crimes, some weren¡¯t even real. A string of ¡°repressed memories¡± were recovered, using now defunct psychology, that exposed supposed town wide satanic cults. Some of the claims went as far as to state that entire towns full of respected community members were raping, torturing and then sacrificing young children. The problem was that there was no evidence, in fact, the actual evidence proved many of the claims could t have been true. Kaitlin did not think this case had anything to do with cults of sacrifices. She was almost certain that this was a crime of revenge and passion. It was personal. As far as she knew, there weren¡¯t any murder cases in America that had actually been definitively linked to Satanic cult rituals and sacrifices. It was all media hype and the dark imagination of our fucked up society. The symbol was mysterious though. Kaitlin didn¡¯t know what it meant, but she was certain that it was an important clue. She was as certain that if she found the origin of the symbol it would lead her to the perpetrator. Deep down, past the rational and logical part of her brain a nagging voice worried that the experts would come back and say that this symbol was something dark - a mark made by the devil himself. Four - Allison ¡°Today we get to start reading Romeo and Juliet.¡± Allison said to the room full of awaiting eyes, her voice alight with excitement. A collective groan rippled across the classroom. The students had all been dreading Shakespeare but Allison knew that by the end of the unit they¡¯d begrudgingly admit they loved it. She took her lead from Catie who had been teaching the text for years and knew exactly how to make the students understand it enough to enjoy it without boring them to tears talking about iambic pentameter. They had the students act it out, talk about each scene and discuss what was happening. Rather than focus in on the language of the text, they had the student¡¯s simply try to understand the story as it unfolded, acknowledging how Romeo and Juliet were basically lustful, over dramatic teenagers with overbearing parents. This made it very relatable for most of the students. By the end they¡¯d love this unit, but it was going to be a rocky start. Allison displayed the prologue on the screen behind her. Reciting the words without having to turn around. She loved this play so much. She could recite most of it from memory having read it, watched it, played it back in her head over and over again. She¡¯d tell her student¡¯s that it was ridiculous and silly as they went through it, but she didn¡¯t really feel that way. She thought it was romantic, the idea of loving someone so deeply, so passionately that you¡¯d kill and die for them. She realized that sounded a bit morbid which is why she didn¡¯t admit it to anyone else, keeping it locked safely in the vaults of her mind space. She didn¡¯t like to admit it but deep down she was a romantic. Her kindle was filled with stories of wild romance, some even getting a bit spicy. She¡¯d been told over and over again that her own story was romantic, having married her high school sweetheart who she started dating when she was just sixteen, and living out their happily ever after in their hometown. When people learned she¡¯d married her high school boyfriend they always made some crooning little noise and told her it was so cute. It made her want to vomit every time but she smiled sweetly and tried to remember that most people spent their whole life trying to find love, she should count herself lucky. It didn¡¯t feel like a grand romance to her though. Brody had never fought for her and he certainly wouldn¡¯t kill for her. He might kill her if she burned dinner one more time while getting lost in the latest story she was reading on her Ereader though. ¡°Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene.¡± As she spoke the words proudly and loudly across her classroom, pulling the attention of even the most apathetic students, movement in her doorway caught her eye. She dared a quick glance to the opening to her left. He was standing there watching her. His thick shoulder was leaned on her doorway. One leg was looped over the other. His head was cocked sideways as he assessed her, eyes traveling between her and the room full of raptured students in front of her. A smirk spread across his lips. Why the fuck was the new replacement teacher just standing there watching her classroom? She couldn¡¯t even remember his name. His presence distracted her enough that she stumbled on the words, forgetting the line. His eyes traveled back to her as she stopped speaking. She shot him a look that she hoped would send him running but instead his grin widened. He pushed off the doorframe, eyes locked on her as he walked into her classroom. Her blood was boiling now. What the hell was he doing? She was about to open her mouth and ask him such when he spun quickly, turning to face her class. And to her complete horror he picked up where she¡¯d left off, finishing the prologue for her, in front of her entire class. ¡°A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life; whose misadventured piteous overthrows, doth with their death bury their parents¡¯ strife. The fearful passage of their death-marked love and the continuance of their parents¡¯ rage, which, but their children¡¯s end, naught could remove, is now the two hours¡¯ traffic of our stage; the which, if you with patient ears attend, what here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.¡± He finished with a flourishing bow as the students clapped wildly. They were clearly highly entertained that this stranger had just stolen the show, leaving their teacher, mouth agape, completely out of control of the classroom. She didn¡¯t even remember this guy¡¯s name but she knew she hated him. If this was his way of making a first impression then he was not going to last here long. She needed to recover, regain control. ¡°Thank you Mr¡­¡± She didn¡¯t even pretend like she remembered his name. Her slight didn¡¯t slap the grin from his face as she¡¯d hoped it would. ¡°Mr. Pasron. The new business teacher here.¡± ¡°Temporary business teacher, until Ms. Dubois returns.¡± She countered. ¡°Thank you for the introduction and for letting me crash your lesson Ms. Clarke.¡± How the fuck did he know who she was? She was liking him less and less the longer he talked. She tried to think of a way to get him out of her classroom without making the students uncomfortable. Something about him made her really uneasy. It wasn¡¯t just his arrogant attitude, or the fact that he¡¯d just waltzed in and taken over her class, there was something about him she did not like. As if sensing her thoughts, he shot her one final smirk before turning to leave, waving at the student¡¯s as he went. Once he was in the hallway, out of sight of everyone except her, he turned and winked at her, then he was gone. The rest of the class went off without a hitch. The students listened respectfully while she went through the basic elements of Shakespearean literature and how they were going to go through the unit. They all groaned when she told them she¡¯d be assigning a literary analysis essay at the end, but other than that, everyone behaved and there were no more interruptions. The bell rang for lunch and all of the student¡¯s filed out swiftly into the hallway. She reminded more than one of them not to run and shove as they left. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. She slid behind her desk, sinking into her chair and letting out a sigh. She was exhausted today. She¡¯d been up late arguing with Brody, again. He had spent a ridiculous amount of money on a boys weekend at some stupid golf tournament in two weeks without discussing it with her first and she was pissed. He countered that he made the majority of the money and deserved a get away. She wasn¡¯t mad he wanted a get away necessarily, it¡¯s just that she couldn¡¯t even remember the last time they¡¯d done something fun together. He¡¯d been spending more and more weekends away than with her and while she was grateful for the time to herself to grade, it sometimes felt like they were roommates sharing the same living space and not a married couple. She rubbed a hand across her tired eyes, then looked down at her computer screen. She was putting her presentation back to the beginning for the next class when she realized there was someone here still. She looked up shocked as she felt a presence standing at the edge of her desk. She placed a hand on her chest. ¡°Aidan, you scared me. I thought everyone had left for lunch.¡± Aidan was a strange kid. He was socially awkward but didn¡¯t seem to understand that. He was smart but not smart enough to be impressive, just smart enough to feel more superior than was necessary. He had already failed this class once and was retaking it, meaning he was older than the other students. Allison didn¡¯t understand how he¡¯d failed the first time, he was smart enough to pass easily. He talked down to the other students, viewing them as inferior. He was very into military history, a topic that he frequently tried to integrate into any conversation, much to everyone¡¯s dismay. Some student¡¯s humored his constant need to talk about guns, but most were sick of it. She¡¯d brought up his obsession with violence several times, they¡¯d called home, parents defended him tooth and nail, nothing else was done. That is until two weeks ago when he¡¯d gotten caught watching violent pornography in the back of his math classroom. Poor old Mrs. Hall had nearly collapsed when she¡¯d caught sight of what was on his screen. His punishment was a lack of access to technology. So now she had to read handwritten papers from him, all full of violent doodles in the margins. The administration were really on top of their game this year it seemed. ¡°Sorry Ms. Clarke. I didn¡¯t mean to scare you.¡± ¡°Mrs. Clarke Aidan.¡± She reminded him for the hundredth time this year. She usually didn¡¯t care but something about Aidan made her want to make sure he knew that she had a husband living with her at home. She had never felt that way about a student before and she wasn¡¯t entirely sure what it was about him that made her feel that way. ¡°Mrs. Clarke.¡± He corrected himself then stood there just staring at her in silence. ¡°Do you need something Aidan? I¡¯m just about to head out to lunch myself, the other teachers are waiting for me in the office.¡± ¡°Will we be talking about suicide in this unit?¡± Something about the way he said it, his tone, made her very uncomfortable. She needed to get him out of here. She decided to stand, grab her lunch bag and move towards the door, ushering him out with her. ¡°Yes, but I will allow any student who is uncomfortable with the topic to opt out during that section. I am aware that could be very triggering for some.¡± ¡°Oh I have no interest in opting out Ms. Clarke.¡± As he said it he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the doorway of her classroom. He didn¡¯t turn and look back. ***** Allison threw her lunch bag down on the table in front of her harder than she meant to. Everyone stopped talking and stared at her. She didn¡¯t return their stares. She ripped her chair out and sat with a sigh. The ELA department all ate lunch together in their staff office. They had several tables put together in the center of the room and they would all gather around together to eat together each day. They had one rule - no lesson planning, it was a duty free lunch. ¡°Rough day there buddy?¡± Catie asked chewing on a carrot stick. ¡°That new guy, Parson, interrupted my lesson.¡± She said as she ripped into her own lunch, annoyance still simmering. ¡°Interrupted how?¡± Susan asked. ¡°I was reciting the prologue for Romeo and Juliet and he just like came in and took over!¡± ¡°Oooh he¡¯s fucking hot and knows Shakespeare, my poor husband might be in trouble.¡± Catie crooned next to her. Allison looked at her incredulously but Catie just laughed at her. ¡°It¡¯s not funny! How would you feel if he just came and took over your lesson?¡± ¡°First, I¡¯d happily let him take over reciting Shakespeare for my class, then I could sit at my desk and get some grading done. Secondly, I¡¯m sure he feels awkward, it¡¯s his first day and he¡¯s trying to figure out his place. I don¡¯t think we need to remind you how over the top gung ho you were when you got here do we?¡± A flush rose to Allison¡¯s cheeks. Maybe she was overreacting. She was mad at Brody and letting that seep into other areas of her life. She should probably just keep her mouth shut except when teaching for the remainder of the day. The other teachers went on discussing their weekends and plans for the week. Allison ate silently, occasionally nodding or mumbling agreement. As they got closer to the end of lunch everyone started to file out. Catie and Allison had fifth period off so they didn¡¯t have to teach next. They remained in their seats, enjoying a moment extra of time outside the confines of their classroom. Eventually it was just the two of them left in the office. ¡°What¡¯s really bugging you?¡± Catie asked, finally breaking the silence between them. ¡°I don¡¯t know, long day I guess. He interrupted my lesson,¡± she¡¯d already forgot his name again. ¡°And that Aidan kid freaked me out again and Brody and I had a fight yesterday. I¡¯m just tired and need a glass of wine.¡± ¡°Did you call the counselor about Aidan? Or the parents?¡± ¡°No, but I will.¡± It was a lie. She had no intention of calling anyone. What would she even say? They¡¯d just say she was overreacting or that she just didn¡¯t like him or was being unfair. Then nothing would be done. He hadn¡¯t actually done anything wrong anyway. It was just a bad day that needed to come to a close. ¡°What¡¯s going on with Brody?¡± A surge of discomfort reared through Allison. She shouldn¡¯t have said anything. Brody was a good husband. He was intelligent, charismatic, and hard working. She was lucky to have him. They¡¯d been together so long she sometimes felt she took him for granted, took what they had for granted. Maybe this was a good reminder of just how lucky she was. ¡°Nothing. I¡¯m just in a mood today. I¡¯m going to go grade some papers, try to get out of here early today so I can decompress.¡± Allison said as she packed up her things and moved to leave. Once she returned to her classroom she unlocked her desk and pulled out her phone. ALLISON: I¡¯m sorry about this weekend too. I want things to be better. I love you. Let me make it up to you this weekend. It only took a moment before Brody¡¯s reply flashed across her screen. HUBBY: I love you too. You can make it up to me after my parent¡¯s party. Allison¡¯s eyes flew to the ceiling, an exasperated groan leaving her lips. She¡¯d completely forgotten about the party her in-laws were throwing this weekend. Fuck.