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Fantasy / Romance
Laycra Macrae
Work in progress
4.1 19 reviews
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

Mae’s P.O.V

My pace is steady as I walk down the corridor that leads to the school assembly hall, it void of people and commotion. Soon, it will be filled to the brim with my jovial peers, laughing and joking enthusiastically with each-other. For now though, it is quiet. Silence clings to the atmosphere with a loose grip, the air completely still. I cherish this, the quiet moment before the chaos of the school day breaks through and everything is loud and the place is full of sound.

The blare of the morning bell crashes through the fragile walls of stillness that saturates the corridors and the halls begin to fill with rowdy boys and pretty girls, glumly walking into line for another assembly. No one likes assembly, myself included. A bunch of meaningless awards are given out and fifteen precious minutes of your life are wasted.

I walk leisurely to my designated line, feeling no need to rush. I’m sure if someone were to look from a birds-eye view we would appear like a crowd of zombies, walking around slovenly, with no aim in sight.

“Mae!” A voice shouts. I turn around smiling as I greet my friend, Carma. Her straight, black hair falls just below her shoulders framing her face nicely and her soft, brown eyes show kindness and warmth to all and everyone.

“Carma, hey, how are you?” I ask, hugging her in welcome.

“I’m as alright as I can be considering I’m at school,” she replies, returning my hug.

“You read my mind, ” I say. Carma laughs lightly, the sound getting lost within the crowd.

We walk into our line, the voices of the students that clutter the halls, turning from loud shouts to quiet murmurs.

“Alright, keep quiet, line up, register order. No dillydallying, wouldn’t want to keep our special guest waiting, ” says Ms Pouell, trying her very hardest to put some life into us. Nonetheless, she has spiked my curiosity.

“Who’s she talking about?” I ask Carma, keeping my voice low.

“Apparently this multi-billionaire guy, is coming into the school to do some workshops or something.”

“Why would a multi-billionaire come to our school, someone like that doesn’t do that without some sort of benefit.” I speak my thoughts out loud. Carma-after laughing-replies with, ” Of-course he wouldn’t. I think the school is like a sponsor for his company, they use his security software, I think.” I nod my head, my lips forming an ‘o’ shape in understanding. That’s why.

We file into the assembly room in complete silence. Inside -on the school’s makeshift stage - there stands three men, two of which I recognize. The first one being Thomas Clarke, the owner of the security company’s, son. He stands tall over the rest and is pristinely dressed in a tailored, charcoal black suit that fits his body nicely. This acting as a clear sign of his wealth and power. The other one I know, is Thomas’s boyfriend; George. His mousy brown hair and soft, hazel eyes a complete contrast to that of Thomas’s. Thomas’s are a dark, calculating brown that roam over the crowd with intimidation. Their arms are clasped together, showing their obvious affection for each other.

“Good Morning Students, ” The deputy head says, the mic on stage projecting her voice throughout the hall.

“Good morning teachers, ” We greet as we take our seats. Our deputy- Mrs Collins- waits patiently for everyone to be seated before continuing. ” Mrs Barnett (the headteacher) apologizes for her absence this morning. She has been caught up with an important matter,” A sort of look is thrown, by Mrs Collins to Thomas, but it is gone in a fleeting moment. She continues,” However, she promises that she will join us a bit later.”

The assembly continues for a little while longer, and as each minute passes I become more restless. A few more minutes pass before the huge assembly room doors at the back of the hall open. Everyone’s heads turn to look, curious to see what is happening. In walks Derek Clarke(the owner of the security company), he watches us with a surveying gaze as he glides down the aisle. I can see as his hard, intimidating stare-true to that of a business man- analyses every person in the room. His broad shoulders, clad with the most lavish of suits and his impeccable tidiness add immensely to his intimidation factor; not a single black hair on his head is out of place. I watch as his angular jaw, clenches and un-clenches in what seems like annoyance. For what reason, I’m not sure.

Then, Mrs Barnett wobbles in on her six-inch heels, her face is red and flustered and her usually neat her is untamed. The dress she wears is somewhat askew and she also seems to be shaking ever so slightly. Her eye sight is trained onto the floor, in what looks like shame.

Lastly, Derek’s youngest son, Rolan, I think his name is, walks in, an angry expression displayed plainly on his face. Unlike his father and brother, he is dressed rather recklessly. His dark, umber hair is messily swept to the side, falling rebelliously over his eyes. His ripped, skinny, jeans and leather jacket make him look beautifully rugged, tattoos peak out from where his sleeves end. My eyes linger on him for a while, his hands have been shoved into his pockets, in what seems like an attempt to keep his anger at bay.

I turn to Carma, saying “I bet Rolan found them kissing in some closet.”

“Mrs Barnett and Mr Clarke are both married to different people.” She whispers in reply.

“Doesn’t seem like that stopped them.” I comment. I watch Rolan walk down the aisle reluctantly, his worn-out combat boots making heavy thuds with every step he takes, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. His eyes boredly roam the crowd of students, looking unimpressed with most that he lays his gaze on... Until it lands on me.

Almost like a bucket of freezing water is thrown on me, and then I start to feel intensely warm. My vision begins to warp and distort, the only clear thing in sight being Rolan, who is now standing stock still in the middle of the aisle, staring straight at me. I feel nauseous, I feel amazing, I feel...I feel so overwhelmed.

Two hands grip my shoulders tightly, Carma’s voice drifts into my head like blood does when in water. “Mae! Mae!” Her shouts do nothing to stop the fierce emotion that courses through me.

A black haze clouds my vision and I can feel my head and heart pulse in synchronisation as my body begins to shut down and I start to lose consciousness. Shouts come from all around, but my mind is already slipping into the darkness.


Carma’s P.O.V

My legs wobble as I walk down the school corridor. Every part of me shakes in worry;worry for Mae. One minute she’s perfectly fine, the next she’s laying unconscious, her whole body limp and lifeless. The glass of water in my hand nearly falls to the floor as a shudder passes through me. The whole ordeal was quite scary and not something I want to experience again.

The door in front of me opens and a guy walks through. He looks about my age-around 16, maybe 17- with russet coloured hair - that is styled in a sort of messy quiff - and strong, chiselled features. His icy blue eyes -at first- seem to show relief then something else. Hunger... lust...I can’t really tell. All I know is that he is trouble. I suddenly feel like my body is on fire, my heart beat spikes significantly, leaving me breathless and woozy. I fight through the haze as my instincts tell me that I am in danger.

The glass in my hand drops and shatters into a million pieces on the floor as I turn to run. However, I am stopped before I could even fully turn around. A numbingly cold hand holds my small wrist in a relentless grip. I struggle to free myself, the stranger supernaturally strong. They tug me back towards them. Not giving up, I hit them in the stomach making their grip loosen significantly enough for me to start running again. Although I don’t get very far because suddenly they’re infront of me.

Blazing, red eyes stare into my frightened brown ones, daring me to make a move. I punch them square in the face, but it is ineffective. The only thing it seems to do is make the person smile, a taunting smile, that mocks my futile attempt to escape. A feeling of dread slivers through my limbs, the sudden thought of knowing that I won’t be leaving here of free will, chilling me to the bone. Doesn’t mean I’m going without a fight though. I ball my fists, ready to strike the stranger again but I don’t even get a chance to. This person is unnaturally fast. My body is pressed firmly against his tall frame in seconds, my head being tilted to the side. I scream out, hoping someone hears my cries of help but if they do they don’t come to my rescue. Things, that can only be described as needles, pierce my skin. My screams become more urgent and frantic, as I writhe in unimaginable pain.

Soon my limbs feel weak, and my limp body is held tightly in the arms of the stranger, without his support I would be laying on the cold, dirty floor. The last thing I see is the strangers eyes return to their original icy, blue colour. Their hand delicately strokes my cheek, pleasurable tingles form from where their fingers touch my skin.

“Sleep,” they mutter, before everything goes black.

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