A Proscriptive Relationship

by Jordan Lynde

  I felt the corner, and slowly turned myself, still keeping an eye out for any motion above me. I felt safer now, out of view from the crevice. Hopefully, now they wouldn’t be able to find me—

  I froze, bumping into something too warm to be rock behind me. I felt a chuckle reverberate through his chest.

  “Found you.”

  I felt my hair being yanked and I bit my tongue to keep from shouting out. I was yanked into the beach area, my ankle growing worse and worse with each step. Eric continued dragging me, oblivious to my pain. I tried to twist out of his grasp, sliding my arms through my overshirt and slipping out of it before making a break for it. Before I could take more than three steps however, Eric grabbed the back of my undershirt and forced me back. I was pushed against the rock, and pinned there by Eric’s knee between my legs. I scowled at him, trying to not let fear get the best of me. Eric scowled back, tapping his switchblade angrily.

  “Where’s Ryan? Damn it,” he muttered, glancing at the way we came.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I tried to keep a straight face. I didn’t want to know what he’d do if he found out I knocked out his friend. But I was also terrified that Ryan would wake up and come in here.

  “How did you get in here?” I whispered, knowing Eric had walked by me earlier.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Did you think you were the only one who knew of the place or something?”

  I shook my head. I knew others would know about it . . . I just assumed these guys didn’t. I sighed inwardly. Assuming never led to good things.

  It was a stupid idea to come in here. How could I have been such an idiot? I felt like I was going to cry.

  The feeling of cool metal against my skin snapped me out of my reverie. My eyes widened as I locked gazes with Eric. He smirked, his eyes glowing with excitement. “I’m not waiting for Ryan,” he told me, even though I could care less. “But I don’t know what to do to you yet.”

  I tried my best not to show him any weakness, but the switchblade pressed to my throat terrified me. “Please, don’t kill me,” I whispered, finding it hard to breathe.

  Eric chuckled. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  I relaxed the slightest bit, but the blade was still pressed against my neck. I watched Eric cautiously, trying to control my breathing.

  “But I can’t say I won’t hurt you.” With that he started to move the switchblade up, and he pressed down a little harder right under my jaw. I flinched away as pain shot through the spot where he had now broken skin. The blade was withdrawn and I let out a shaky breath, but it turned into a cry when I felt a hard slap to my face.

  “That was for punching me yesterday.”

  I raised a hand to my cheek in shock, unable to say anything. There was a sudden shout from the entrance and Eric’s head snapped towards it, a smirk appearing on his face. “That must be Ryan. Finally he figured out where we were.”

  I froze, my heart dropping into my gut. Was he serious? How was I supposed to get out of this now? My chest tightened, and I blinked rapidly, making sure no tears spilled down my face.

  Eric glanced at me with a frown. “I’ll be right back, stay here . . . Well, you don’t have anywhere else to go, so I guess saying that is pointless.”

  He headed back towards the entrance and when he disappeared from view, I sprinted to the other side of the enclosed area. I spotted the small cave I had refused to go in the day before. However, now it was my only chance of safety. I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled in.

  I could barely fit. It looked so much bigger from the outside. I managed to squeeze my way a fair distance from the entrance. I pulled my knees up to my chest, cursing myself for not grabbing my shirt before running. I put my head onto my knees, trying to calm my racing heart. What was I going to do? I felt so helpless. I was trapped and no one knew where I was, and there were two guys after me because I had punched them yesterday.

  I really needed to stop punching people! And getting myself caught in such dangerous positions! I could fight, but it probably wouldn’t end well. Besides, they had switchblades. It was too dangerous to try to attack them. There was really nothing I could do.

  New tears prickled at my eyes and I rubbed them furiously, hating how powerless I was. I drew my knees closer to me, my body shaking. I hadn’t realized how cold and wet I was. It felt like I had gone swimming.

  “You,” a voice growled.

  I immediately looked up to see Eric glaring at me.

  “Get out here. Right now.”

  “No,” I responded, staring at him with wide eyes. Was he crazy? There was no way in hell I was leaving!

  He growled in frustration. “You know, I do have a friend who can easily fit inside there and grab you.”

  My eyes widened the slightest bit. “No you don’t.”

  Eric chuckled. “Oh, yes I do. He’s only about five minutes away from here. In fact, if you want I’ll give him a call now.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not, so I stayed silent. He sighed and a moment later I heard him talking to someone. “Yeah, I need your help. It’s the cave again. Yeah. I don’t know why they always hide in there. Okay, I’ll meet you by the entrance.”

  I listened very carefully. Was he faking the phone call? And what did he mean again? Did he chase girls in here often?

  Eric ducked down again, looking in at me. “I’ll be right back. You can come out if you want, I’ll be by the entrance.”

  He disappeared, leaving me staring after him in disbelief. He wasn’t kidding. New tears formed at my eyes and I bit my lip. This was unbelievable. Why me? How pathetic could I be?

  Hearing footsteps outside the cave sent my heart flying,

  “Holly?”

  My head snapped up so fast it cricked my neck. I ignored it, though, staring in incredulity at the man standing before me. It wasn’t Eric. Or Ryan. It was Mr. Heywood.

  He peered at me, his expression relieved. His hair was matted to his forehead, his clothing, completely soaked.

  “How?” I whispered, tears flooding my eyes again. “How did you find me?”

  “The man passed out a little ways back and your flip-flops were good clues,” he responded, a small smile on his lips. “Come out here, quick.”

  I shook my head violently. “I c-can’t!”

  “Why not? Are you hurt?”

  “No,” I responded, shaking my head again. “My, er . . . my shirt is out there.” Yeah, I still wore my undershirt. But still . . .

  He froze for a minute and then I saw him looking around. After a moment, he took off the gray sweater he was still wearing and threw it to me. “Put that on.”

  I nodded and pulled it on eagerly. Even though it was damp, I instantly felt warmer. Feeling much better, I crawled forwards, and out of the cave. Immediately Mr. Heywood pulled me to my feet. I gazed at him for a moment, feeling the overwhelming urge to hug and kiss him, but I fought it back—with much difficulty.

  He inhaled sharply. “What happened to your jaw?”

  “Um, switchblade,” I muttered, averting my eyes.

  “Holly,” he groaned, running a hand through his dripping wet hair.

  It made me wonder how long he had been searching for me for his hair to be so wet. My eyes came across my shirt lying in the sand. I made a move to grab it, but became paralyzed with fear. What would happen if Eric came back and I wasn’t close to Mr. Heywood? Swallowing, I grabbed onto the back of his T-shirt. He looked at me curiously and I felt my eyes well up again. I blinked them away as quickly as possible.

  “Holly, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes soft. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I responded, rubbing my eyes. “I’m just scared. There was nothing I could do! I thought I was just going to be stuck in that cave until he came to get me out! I thought no one knew where I was and no one was going to come help me and I couldn’t even do anything. I was helpless . . . and scared.”

  I wasn’t sure if he understood the last few things
I said, because I had started to cry by then. I felt him pull me into a warm and protective embrace. I didn’t even think to be embarrassed. I clung onto him, trying to blink away my tears. He rubbed my back soothingly.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier,” he said quietly.

  “It’s not your fault,” I sniffed.

  He suddenly pulled away from me, his face an unreadable expression. I stared at him for a moment, trying to decide what it meant, but found it nearly impossible. After a second he ran his hand through his hair.

  “Come on, we’ve got to get back before you get in some serious trouble.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone what happened,” I begged, grabbing onto his shirt again. “Please, Chris.”

  His eyes widened in surprise and he opened his mouth, but no words came out. Eventually he just nodded. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “I’ll tell them you got lost or something. But we should still go.”

  I nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Mr. Heywood muttered, turning towards the entrance.

  Realization swept over me and I grabbed Mr. Heywood’s shirt again. He halted, throwing me an amused glance. “Now what?”

  “How’d you get in here?” I whispered.

  “I heard someone, so I just jumped from . . . Holly, what’s wrong?”

  My expression must have made him worried, because he looked over his shoulder and back with a confused expression. And then we heard the voices.

  “They’re back,” I said, eyes wide.

  “Who are?”

  “The men who are after me.”

  He didn’t seem phased. In fact, he looked eager. He pushed me behind him completely and stood still, waiting for the men to come into view. In a few seconds, three men appeared: Ryan, Eric, and the new small guy. So Eric really wasn’t lying.

  Eric narrowed his eyes at Mr. Heywood. “Who are you?”

  “Your worst nightmare,” Mr. Heywood responded, cracking his knuckles. “Which one of you cut this poor girl’s jaw?”

  Eric’s gaze hardened. “That would be me.”

  Before I could protest, Mr. Heywood was in front of Eric, sending a fist flying into his face. My jaw dropped as Eric fell a few steps back, but not down. Since when did someone stay conscious after being punched by Mr. Heywood? There was a glint of metal and I noticed Eric had the switchblade out again. I took a step backwards, shaking my head.

  “M-Mr. Heywood,” I croaked, watching the three men close in on him.

  He sent me a smirk. “Remember, Holly, I was gang leader for a reason.”

  The first one down was the new guy—he didn’t even stand a chance against Mr. Heywood’s fist. And I almost missed Mr. Heywood’s fist landing in Ryan’s face—another one-hit K.O. But then Eric swung the knife out. To my astonishment, it actually came in contact with Mr. Heywood’s arm.

  “Mr. Heywood!” I cried, shocked.

  But that’s when I realized he had let it get him on purpose. He yanked the switchblade out from Eric’s hand and turned it back onto him. Eric’s face immediately whitened and he stepped back.

  “W-wait,” he stammered, holding up his hands.

  Mr. Heywood pressed the switchblade against Eric’s throat. I gasped, staring with wide-eyes.

  “What are you . . .?” I trailed off, unsure what he was planning.

  “I think you should have a reminder of what you did tonight,” Mr. Heywood said in a dangerously low voice.

  He dragged the blade up Eric’s neck slowly—the same way Eric had done to me earlier—and rested it just below his jaw. With one quick slice, blood appeared and I gasped, covering my mouth. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it still surprised me.

  Mr. Heywood sent a fist into Eric’s face, and he fell to the ground. Then he turned around, looking pleased with himself, but when his eyes landed on mine, his face dropped. I stared back at Mr. Heywood, caught between awe and horror.

  He turned and looked at the three boys now unconscious on the ground.

  “Holly, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I responded quickly. “Your arm—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said cutting me off. “Damn it.” He ran a hand down his face. “How could I almost let it happen again?”

  Let what happen again? I opened my mouth to question him, but I realized now was definitely not the time to do so. Afraid the men might wake up again, I jogged up to him, grabbing his arm. Immediately he ripped it out of my grasp. Slightly hurt, I looked at him with wide eyes. He glared at me for a split second before softening his gaze.

  “Sorry, Holly,” he murmured, his hair falling in his face, covering his eyes.

  My heart was beating once more, but not because I was afraid. And it wasn’t because I was happy. It was the sight of Mr. Heywood’s expression. It was one full of grief and regret.

  LESSON TWENTY

  “I still can’t believe you got lost at the beach,” Lance said, cracking up yet again. “I mean, how can you get lost at a beach?”

  “You just can ,” I snapped, stabbing my fork into my mashed potatoes.

  “I don’t think she minded,” Casey added, a small smirk on her face. “After all, Mr. Heywood was sent out to find her and he was gone for a while.”

  I kept my mouth shut, trying not to be angry with them. They didn’t know what had actually happened, and I didn’t plan on telling them, so it wasn’t their fault. But their comments were getting irritating.

  “So, what, are you and Heywood dating now?” Lance asked, frowning. “If I ever see you two snogging I swear I’ll be sick.”

  “We aren’t dating,” I snapped, flushing. “And here we call that making out, not snogging.”

  “Oh, come on, Holly,” Casey stated with a smirk. “You guys were gone a really long time.”

  “Drop it,” I said, growing more and more aggravated.

  She opened her mouth to continue to tease me, but the lunch bell cut her off. I stood up, grabbing my bottle of water, and mixed myself in among the gaggle of students leaving the cafeteria. I heard Casey call after me, but I ignored her, hurrying out.

  I ran nearly all the way to biology, stopping by my locker to quickly grab my backpack. Before entering, I took a few deep breaths. What would Mr. Heywood say if for once I was first to class instead of last or close to last? Trying not to grin, I entered the classroom.

  The room was empty except for Mr. Heywood who sat at his desk, looking at a piece of paper. When he heard me, he looked up. Shock flitted across his face before his trademark smirk slowly appeared. “Well, Ms. Evers, congratulations on being first for once.”

  “Shocking, isn’t it?” I asked, now grinning.

  He chuckled, before suddenly turning serious. “How are you feeling?”

  “Um, fine,” I responded, thrown by his sudden change of tone. “How’s the cut on your arm?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively.

  I clenched my fist lightly, glowering at him. “Don’t say ‘don’t worry about it’ because obviously I’m going to worry if you’re hurt too! Especially since it’s my fault, Mr. Heywood!”

  He looked surprised. “But, Holly, I’m fine—”

  “That doesn’t matter!” I argued. “I worry for you just as much as you worry for me.”

  “Who said I worried for you?”

  I stared at him, my face going blank. He wasn’t worried? Embarrassment washed over me and I felt my face grow hot. Why should he be worried, right? It was only my foolishness that let me to believe that—

  His laughter interrupted my thoughts and I stared at him. He continued laughing for a few minutes, trying to smother it with his arm. I tried to keep my mouth shut and wait for him to be done, but I lost my patience.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, clearing his throat. “Really, I was kidding. I do worry about you.”

  I felt relief wash through me and then embarrassment again. If he wo
rried about me, then . . .

  “Your reactions are just too cute.”

  I was about to retort when a different thought popped into my head. A frown spread across my face as I debated how I should ask the question that I wanted to ask. He mistook my response and offered me an apologetic smile.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said. “I was just—”

  “What did you mean by ‘again’?”

  He looked at me in confusion. “What?”

  “Yesterday,” I told him, now chewing on my bottom lip. “Um, after you . . . you know, took care of those guys, your expression changed and you said something along the lines of ‘how could I almost let it happen again?’”

  His face darkened and he narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

  I stared at him, a little shocked. Why was he denying it? I had heard him say it clearly! And I couldn’t forget the face he made . . . just thinking of it made my heart beat faster. There was no way he could deny what had happened.

  “I heard you!” I accused, taking a step closer to his desk. “You said it right after—”

  “Holly,” Mr. Heywood snapped in a quiet voice and then looked behind me.

  I narrowed my eyes slightly, but glanced over my shoulder to see Lance and another student entering the classroom. Lance must have noticed something weird about my expression because his brow wrinkled in concern.

  “I’m not letting this drop,” I said quietly, giving Mr. Heywood a meaningful look before walking over to Lance.

  “What’s up?” he asked in a concerned voice.

  “Nothing,” I responded moodily, slumping onto my seat, and hanging my arms over the desk. “Just the usual with Mr. Heywood.”

  Lance looked at me alarmed, bringing his head closer to mine. “Holly, did something happen with the gang? Are you hurt? Do I need to have a talk with Heywood?”

  I smiled at his concern and shook my head. “Nothing like that, thank you for worrying though.”

  “You don’t need to thank me for worrying,” he pointed out. “It comes with the best friend package.”