What the Hart Wants

Days passed endlessly slow. Everything was just that more real. I was going to marry someone I didn’t love. I was going to be a house wife and a slave.
This wasn’t a marriage of love, but one like the book Taming the Shrew. Would he expect me to agree to ever whim of his. Was I going to be starved or in rags because I might have an issue with something he says.
College would be pointless. All my studying; all my hard work: for nothing. Every dream I held was now nothing.
School was worse than anything under the sun. It was a teaser of what no longer mattered. I no longer had the yearn for the constant distraction that I once possessed.
“Miss Hart,” Mr. Buckley called, waking me up from my day dreams. Quickly I realized why I had been singled out. Break came far earlier than expected.
“Oh, sorry sir,” I apologized, standing up and packing my belongings.
“I have been noticing your lack of performance, Miss Hart.” Mr. Buckley was by far my favorite teacher. He insisted on having fun while learning, so if you had issues with, say WW1, he would approach it in several ways in hopes for you to grasp it. Where as other teachers push you aside if you are unable to understand geometry and all those damn formulas.
“Yes sir.” I cautiously stepped toward the door, not wanting to get too attached at school when Tom had stated it was a useless expensive thing that robbed one of time. Valuable time better used for cleaning or caring for children.
“Is something going on in your life?” He asked trying to show compassion and perhaps a comforting ear.
“Nothing that really means anything,” I answered honestly. As a general rule, one does not tell anyone- especially adults with even just a hint of power know of Selsi. And it really doesn’t man anything to me… right?
While I pondered my horrendous life he contemplated on what I had said. Mr. Buckley was a man with good judgment and seemed to easily catch me in any lie I was stupid enough to tell.
“Tomorrow, during my class I would appreciate it if you were to indulge me in a meeting with my sister-in-law. She’s a psychologist and might be able to help you.” I gave a huff, not eager to speak to any stranger. “Now look, I’m not about to just sit and watch all your hard work go down the drain. I’m not going to let you tumble down that path, Lorelei. You are far to smart to let whatever is happening end what could be a full ride to college.”
Tears started to brim up in my eyes. College. Oh gawd my life is over! I had been so close I could reach the scholarships.
“I understand that things aren’t going well at home.” I gave him a look I hope portrayed my shock and disbelief. “No no, I’ve seen several things in my time that shaped me to become a good judge of the warning signs you are portraying.” He took a deep sigh at my attempt to portray the average teenage happy kid. Nope, didn’t work. “And during class tomorrow I would appreciate if you talked to Mrs. Buckley, honestly.” He waited a short minute before stating a whiny, pleading “Please?”
I gave a nod and rushed out, realizing I could in fact get away.
“Hey Rory,” I turned to see the most stunning site I have ever witnessed. Kara was standing in front of me wearing what I could only guess was a tube top made into an itty bitty red skin tight skirt. She was wearing what could be considered lingerie as she wore a corseted black bodice. Her once long very straight hair was now black and pixy cut short in spikes.
“Holy--” I tried to breathe out, but coming up short.
“Yeah, um,” she shyed away, her eyes clouded over with a thick black makeup. “I needed a change.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” She did a short twirl for me. “What about your parents?”
“Are you kidding me,” she said with a laugh, a bitter laugh that rung super sweetly. “They absolutely love it.” She gave a good smile, and a slight chuckle. “I’ve decided I’d rather be with fosters than marry that,” she shuddered and gave a small squirm, “Cables man…”
“So what did you do?” I asked, practically shouting, too to curious and excited to actually keep my voice down. Or remain in the funk I had gotten myself in.
“I called the cops, told them half the shit they’ve been pulling and they pulled me from them and now I’m with some old tweaker lady. However the pastor and Cables have been trying to stand up for them, so I did what I could to scare the old perves away. However when that didn’t work, so I threatened to blab about the church.”
“Did it work?” I begged for the answer.
She gave a nod her entire face lit up in a huge smile. “Yes and now I am safe and have whatever future I can make for myself now. No horrible jackass’ trying to monopolize my life.”
“Wow,” I stated, dumbfounded and amazed. “Do you think that would work for me?” I blurted before I could even stop myself.
“Um maybe. You gotta look out for that bastard Peters. I think if Cables was any closer to him, he wouldn’t of let me go, regardless of what I threatened him and his church with.
You know he’s getting married too?” Unaware of my awkward feelings toward this. “I wonder what poor girl got tied to him?”
A silence grew between us, far larger and more painful than I--in all my life- had felt. “Me,” I whispered. My entire body starting to tremble with the weight of that. Oh gawd, I’d never get away from him. Kara’s words echoed loud in my head, ‘he wouldn’t let me go, no matter what’.
Bile rose deep in my throat at the truth of the matter. I’m totally screwed.
She was waiting for me at the door out of the restroom. “You-” she paused and pushed me back into the nurses’ restroom. Silently grabbing hold of a paper towel and wetting it down.
She sat me down on the toilet and rubbed my face tenderly with the cloth. “You are marrying Pastor Peters?” I gave a nod and tried my hardest not to lose it. “When?”
“May,” I said through my suddenly tumbling tears. “My life is over!” I sobbed and tried think things through. “You got out. Kara, you got out!” My chest began to congest and tighten. “You said so your self, he’ll never let me go! You got out, but me?”
“Shh,” she tried to soothe. Trying to make me calm down. Getting more cool cloth. “Things will only get worse if you let it slip,” she said, rubbing my cheeks down, “they’ll hurt you, Rory.” She grabbed hold of my shoulders, the pain causing me to look up to her. “You know that, don’t you? If it gets out, you will be the one who gets hurt. He’ll hurt you Rory.”