Page 90 of Liberating Bells
He doesn’t smile back. “This is serious, Bells. If he shows up, you need to get the hell out of there, call the cops, and then call me as soon as you’re safe.”
“I will. It will be fine.” I’m touched by his order. Ryan puts my safety above himself. That much is clear.
“Promise me,” he presses. “Please.”
“I promise.”
Ryan exhales heavily and takes a sip of his coffee. “I don’t like it. But if you think it will be okay, I’ll get over it.”
I smile at him again and take a bite of my muffin. We finish breakfast and then work on getting ready for the day. After brushing my teeth, I meet Ryan back in the living room. He asks if I’m ready before we both head out to the parking lot. Ryan informs me that his soccer team has a game after school. He invites me to come by and watch if I want, then he gives me a kiss before getting in his car and driving away. I start my car and head across town toward school.
Such a mundane routine that we’ve established in our day, but I love every little bit of it. It’s small moments like these, where we’ve settled into a new normal of co-existing, when I forget all that trauma I’ve been through. How difficult it was for me to finally get to this moment.
And with thoughts of how I love how my life has turned out, come along feelings of trepidation that it all might be taken from me.
I wonder if my students are going to ask questions. They all were under the impression—along with the rest of the world—that my wedding was this weekend. Maybe they won’t notice the obnoxious diamond missing from my finger, or the lack of the matching wedding band.
I arrive at Bennett, and then make my way into my classroom. A few minutes later, I hear a knock on my door, and I stiffen. My shoulders tighten, and my spine straightens. I relax immediately when I see the headmaster stick his head in.
“Hey, Izabel,” Todd says as he steps into my room. He closes the door behind him. “I spoke with Ryan this morning, and he filled me in on everything.”
Of course, he did. I can’t be mad at Ryan for that, though. Everything with him comes from a place of caring and concern—virtually the opposite of where Mark’s intentions rose from.
“It’s been an interesting weekend, to say the least.” I attempt to make light of the situation.
“Look, if you need more time off, we can figure it out. I don’t want you to stress yourself by being here,” he offers. Todd is one of Ryan’s oldest friends. They attended Bennett Academy together and stayed tight throughout the years. I know he cares about me because Ryan does, but Todd would do this for any of his faculty. He’s a sweet guy.
“I think I need to get back to work,” I tell him. “I miss my students, and honestly, it will help take my mind off of everything.”
Todd nods. “I understand. Well, I just wanted to check in with you. If there’s anything I can do to help, my door is always open.”
“Thanks, Todd,” I say with a smile.
He taps his knuckles on the door and then steps out, leaving me alone again. About half an hour later, the students start filing in. The boys in my first class seem happy to have me back, and we dive into the lesson.
The day passes uneventfully, but I am ready to call it a day when the release bell rings. I have a raging headache, and I could use a nap. My final class gathers their bookbags and notebooks,and they shuffle out of the room. A few say goodbye, and I give them small waves.
Once everyone is gone, I sit down at my desk to submit attendance for the day and close everything out. By the time I gather up my things and shut everything down, the hallways are mostly empty. This is usual. The boys typically bolt as quickly as they can to head back to their dorms or their sports.
My shoes make a soft noise against the tile floors as I steer toward the staff parking lot. I take a deep breath of the fresh fall air once I step outside and let it fill my lungs. I love fall. I had to park on the opposite end of the lot this morning. Ryan’s apartment is farther than Mark’s and my place was, and I didn’t take the extra drive time into account this morning.
A short distance behind me, my ears pick up on unusual movement. I think it’s footsteps hitting the pavement, heading in the exact direction I’m going. I pick up my pace, trying to get to the car quicker, but they keep following me. I have the creepy-crawling feeling someone is watching my every move. My heart strums away, and my palms start to sweat.
It’s nothing, just take a deep breath, I tell myself.It’s not Mark.
But what if it is? I haven’t heard from Mark since the rehearsal. What if he’s been biding his time, waiting for me to come back to work? He knows which car is mine. He could have been waiting for me to leave the building to confront me in the parking lot. Maybe I was too quick to jump on freedom. Mark could have been plotting this whole time.
My mind immediately starts working out scenarios. If Mark grabs me, what am I going to do? How am I going to respond? I have to have a game plan to protect myself. My fingers grip onto the strap of my bag, and I keep walking. Why did I have to park so far away? The footsteps get faster; they’re getting closer. I squeeze my eyes shut and muster all my courage.
Okay, I can do this. I can do this. I can protect us.
Ihaveto protect us.
In one swift movement, I spin around, extending my bag out in a big sweep. My body goes into the self-defense stance I learned at classes: a wide stance with my legs, one foot slightly back, my arms raised in defensive fists, ready to strike or deflect if needed.
“Stay away from me!” I yell at the top of my lungs. Maybe if Mark hears me scream, he’ll abort his attempt to attack me.
A few Bennett boys dodge out of the way, shooting weird looks at my stance. They slide by me and continue on with their run.
