A Student/Teacher Relationship

My POV:

"Well what is it? What did it say?" Billie Joe anxiously asked as soon as I walked out the bathroom door. We had driven back to my house since no one would be home for hours so I could find out if my life is ruined.

"I don't know yet. It takes a couple minutes." I shrugged.

"Oh ok." He relaxed. "Why did you buy 3 tests? Isn't 1 enough?"

"I'm not taking my chances on only 1 cheap store bought pregnancy test. I need to know if I'm knocked up unanimously." I tried to lighten the mood, but failed miserably. Me trying to be humorous, trying to laugh at the situation instantly ticked me off with half a cup of sorrow and just a dash of blatant disgust. "I can't believe this." I sighed, sinking down on the floor against the wall. "So fucked up."

"It's going to be O.K." He sat down next to me, draping his arm over my shoulder.

"No it won't. Wonder if I am pregnant? What then?"

"Uhhh..."

"Never mind... I think it should be done by now." I got up and returned to the bathroom, leaving Billie on the floor. Squeezing my eyes shut, I approached the counter to where the tests lay processing.

BJ's POV:

Screaming exploded from the bathroom. Shit, fuck, shit. I ran inside to Becky hopping up and down.

"Guess what?! I'm not pregnant!" She smiled big, waving 3 pink strips of paper in front of my face.

"YAY!" I yelled back in response and forced a hug through her fits of excitement. She continued to laugh and babble about not being another statistic... How could this be though? Was the sick bastard wearing a condom or just shooting blanks? Fucker... I need her to tell me who did it, but she clearly isn't ready to go into any detail about the subject without breaking down for me to pick up the pieces.

After some much needed celebration, things were winding down. We cuddled on her twin size bed in her room. Close quarters, but do you think I mind? Soon later she fell asleep. Poor thing must have partied herself out. I watched the back of her head slowly rise up and down on my chest as I played with random strands of her hair. I'm surprised to see her room is relatively neat with the exception of cluttered walls of posters and photos of various bands, some I never heard of. Who the hell is "My Chemical Romance"? It's so quiet, but the good kind of silence. She moaned and lightly tugged on my shirt.

"Becky?... You awake?" I whispered. No answer. Still sleeping. At least she doesn't snore. The sound of small whimpering seeped into my ears and before I could react, the whimpering turned into heavy cries.

"No, please don't! Go away! No Ben don't hurt him! You fucking bastard, I love him!" She violently thrashed around and shoved me hard off the bed. "Get away, don't touch me!" Landing with a dull thump, I quickly jumped to my feet. I stood hypnotized at the spectacle I was witnessing. Her eyes remained shut yet tears flowed without hestitation. Legs kicked at nothing and arms balled into fists punched at the air as if fighting off an invisible attacker. Reminds me of a scene from "Nightmare On Elm Street" minus the whole flying and being killed part.

"Holy shit. Becky wake up! Please wake up!" I pleaded, shaking her. Becky's eyes snapped open wide in fear. As soon as her vision came across me, she immediately stopped fighting.

"Billie." She choked out almost in surprise.

"What happened?" I sat down next to her, reaching my arm around her. She's trembling. What the hell was she dreaming about?

"I... I don't remember." She slightly shook her head, wiping away the the light veil of cold sweat on her forehead.

My POV:

I do remember. It was that dream again. The one of it being a regular day in class. Billie Joe was teaching and I was counting down the seconds til we'd be together after the bell rings. All of the sudden, Ben just bursts into the room and starts beating Billie. I try to get up, but it was like I was trapped in a glass box. A mime living out a nightmare. Pounding and kicking did little to free me. I screamed at my other classmates to help, but they didn't do anything! They only sat there, not budging an inch, and watching Billie Joe die. Once his body went limp, Ben began walking to the back of the room towards me. That's when I wake up. Every night for the past week I wake up screaming in the black of my room, mourning the death of Billie Joe, the man I love.

"Becky, who's Ben?" Billie Joe inquired. Damn I said his name.

"Who?" I lied.

"Ben. You were yelling at someone named Ben."

"Oh I was? I have no idea who that is." Please, please, please believe me. God I am such a fucking liar. No, I'm a chicken shit fucking liar.

"Ok this has to stop." Billie Joe got up and stood before me. "You have to tell me everything. I wanted to give you more time before I would begin to pry, but what I just saw..." He motioned at the bed and sighed. "Something's seriously wrong with you." I'm not sure how to interpret that last statement. Wrong as in permanently disturbed get the fuck away from me or wrong as in ok this is fixable? Bite my tongue. I don't need my mouth getting in the way. Nodding in acceptance, he continued on. " I know that night can't be erased or that I'll ever know anywhere close to what you're feeling, but you have to let me in. So-"

"Alright, I'll tell you... Ben is my ex boyfriend. It was him." Swallow my pride. From there the agonizing story came to life once again in my mind. I told him about Ben and what he had done to me going into slightly unneeded detail. (I try to be the writer.) It felt like I was giving a speech in class. Nervousness, the occassional wavering of the voice, but still got it done. Seamlessly he transformed from cool, calm, and collected to obviusly uncomfortable and looking like he was wishing for me to stop. Once I finished he remained very quiet.

"So now you know that's why I did and said all those things."

"...I'm going to kill him...I'm going to fucking kill him." He bolted out my room. Before I realized what he had said, he was half way down the stairs.

"Billie!" I chased after him. "Wait!"

"Where does this bastard live?" He called from my front door.

"Why?" I finally reached him.

"What the hell do you mean why? I told you. I am going to fucking kill him. Now where?" In this light his eyes had a demonic glow, fire buring from the pits of hell (if it exists). Somewhat scary to most, but oddly I'm a little turned on by it. Focus damn it!

"Billie, do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?"

"I don't give a flying fuck. He's dead."

"Oh yeah? Tell me, what do you think you'll solve by killing him?" I placed my hands on my hips.

"He'll be dead! The fucker can't touch you ever again! What else is there?" He threw up his arms in question. Trying to pacify him certainly isn't working. Stupid male testosterone.

"If I'm not mistaken, murder is illegal in the U.S."

"Fuck that. What he did is illegal too 'if I'm not mistaken.'" He mimicked the hands on the waist.

"Fine Billie, go ahead and search for a guy where you don't know where he lives or what he even looks like. So you better get a move on and kill him. Don't forget to write me from prison." Out of exasperation, I dropped onto the couch trying to numb the raging pulse pumping in my head. The seat cushion next to me sunk under Billie Joe's weight. My eyes looked up to his somber face.

"You're mad at me."

"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm just overwhelmed. I finally get the the guts to tell you and you're first impulse is to go fucking kill him?"

"I'm sorry...I should go. Don't worry I won't go commit any murder." He rose up.

"Don't leave me. Please? I don't want to be alone."

***

Ben's POV:

It's been around 2 weeks since that bad hangover I woke up to on my front lawn. Yep the parentals didn't appreciate that much. I don't get it. I've gotten smashed dozens of times and usually passed out remembering the night's events the next day. But that night is a complete blank like a good dream that you can't seem to recall why it was so great. Sore hands, an aching nutsack, and dried ketchup or something around my mouth were my only clues. Maybe I parked somewhere and participated in some angry masturbation. Been reduced to that more and more since I started dating Jen. Please. I don't want to put my hands all over that and expect to get a rise out of me. At least Becky was easier when it came to my anatomy. But hey, Jen is rich and her dad does own a mustang (my dream car), sometimes I get to drive it. So even dating a troll has its perks.

Things are going fairly good minus the drunken mystery and the nagging after effect of Becky. It's like now whenever I see her I get this pissed, disgusted yet jealous feeling and an overbearing almost sickening satisfaction. So weird.

From up in my room, I heard the door bell ring. Jen's here. We're supposed to hang out today. Now I have to take the stupid, Chicago Sox-themed teddy bear we made at lame ass Build-A-Bear out of my closet, place it neatly on my bed and put up the numerous pictures she had given me of us from out of my dresser droor. Right after the last picture was sat into place, light tapping came from the door of which was already open. My hand still holding the silver frame, I looked up to Jen standing in the entrance of my room. A smile spread across her face as she looked at the frame to me. Awww she must think I was admiring it. Isn't that cute?

"Hey." I greeted her and took my hand off the photo.

"Steph let me in." She nodded and plopped down of my bed. Make yourself at home. Steph's my little sis and a bitch too. Steph and Jen get along so well. Gee I wonder why... "Soooo how was your day?" She asked, patting a spot on my mattress implying me to sit.

"It's only 1 in the afternoon. The day's not over yet." I answered taking the hint.

"Well you wouln't believe my day." So it begins. "I woke up at 4:15 or 17? But fell back asleep and got up-" Blah, blah, blah, blah. Shut up! Take off your top or something! You have big boobs, use 'em! I pushed up against my head board, preparing myself for a very long, very boring story. "After I marked off my calendar that I was seeing you today. Ya know my calendar with the kittens. Since it's October, there's a picture of the cutest black kitty sitting in a jack-o-lantern-" Please stop talking, I whimpered to myself. This is hell. I can't afford to keep buying a new bottle of aspirin every other day. Maybe she drove the stang here. Do some donuts in front of Scott's, hang out at Corey's. Wait, damn, she'll want to come. Nevermind. "I couldn't decide between my green softball shirt or my green soccer shirt, but I settled on the softball." She tugged on her shirt of dark green with the dried mustard stain over her left breast. Turn off. Oh well, a boob's a boob. Would it kill you to put on a little make up? Please? For my sake? Exhaling clear smoke from my imaginary cigarette, I let her words drag on and instantly vanish in my mind faster than they entered my ears.

Hmmm I wonder what Becky's doing. Even though I never fucked her, I always got sort of a kinky vibe from her. Mmmm... Jen would never let me tie her up, she's so missionary. But Becky... Becky would. I can picture her crying and begging me to let her go. She was always the actress. Thinking about it now, the fanatsy seems so real... Holy fuck! I did do her! Ha ha that's what happened that night! Didn't rape her though. That would be wrong and my ass in jail. She wanted me to. I know her. She was asking for it.

"Ben?!" Jen screeched, disrupting my self congratulations.

"I was listening."

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" She pointed.

"Huh?" My eyes furrowed in confusion as I looked down to the bulge in my pants.

"I didn't know me eating week old Chinese food for breakfast is such a turn on for you." Jen stared at my denim-covered erection in aw.

"Uhh sure." Escaping her laughter, I rushed to the bathroom to take care of my little problem. Well not little. Built like a stallion, I winked at my reflection in the mirror. Ah Becky. Why was I at your house in the first place? Other than you wanting me so bad. Ha ha this is funny. Something else happened that was important, but can't remember...Who cares, I got guilt-free sex under my belt. Blood, sex, and booze. What can get better than that? Oooo maybe if I make out with Jen and tell her the boner was for her, she might let me drive daddy's stang for the day. So easy...