Page 101 of The Tattered Gloves
“Taking the place of Mrs. Decker, some of you might already know him, but for those of you who have yet to meet the man who will lead our Spanish department let me be the first to introduce Mr. Lee.”
I’d hate to say it, but there had been more applause for the groundskeeper than our new Spanish instructor. He took it with stride though, walking with confidence toward Principal Mendoza. The two men shook hands, and to my surprise, Mr. Lee took the mic into his hands.
And that was when my world went upside down.
“Thank you, Principal Mendoza.” His voice boomed loudly through the gymnasium. The speaker reverberated, causing a high-pitched screech that had the entire student body covering their ears.
But that wasn’t the reason for my panic.
No, the squeal of the speaker had nothing to do with it.
It washim.
That voice. I’d never forget it in all my life.
“Willow? Are you okay?” I heard Allison ask, but her voice felt light-years away.
Because I was already gone.
I was already running.
Fleeing from the teacher at the microphone. The man with the voice I’d never forget.
This wasn’t simply Mr. Lee, the Spanish teacher.
This was the man who had raped me.
WALKING INTO THE empty house, I couldn’t really recall how I’d gotten there.
Everything was a blur.
All I remembered was his voice, Allison’s voice, and the overwhelming sense of panic.
I’d had to get out.
And so I had.
Touching my clothes, I realized I was drenched in sweat.Did I run all the way home?
Looking around, I realized I couldn’t stay.
This wasn’t my home.
Not anymore.
Not while he was here.
And so I packed. I ran to my room, still hot and sweaty, knowing Addy wouldn’t be home for a few hours, busy with her grand opening, and I prepared to leave the only home I’d known.
The only suitcase I had was the ratty old bag I’d arrived with, which meant I could only fit the essentials.
After one last look of longing at my bookshelf where all my beautiful stories dwelled, I knew it was for the best. This was their home.
This was where they belonged.
I thought I had, too.
“What are you doing?”
