He had always lusted after her. Ever since that first day he saw her her. There was just something about her. She was too young then, it would have being unacceptable, even to him. But throughout the years, he watched her slowly blossom into the young beautiful girl, he knew that she was, and the beautiful woman she would one day turn out to be. Perhaps, one day become his wife, he allowed himself to fantasise at times . He struggled with his anger, and jealousy as he watched from afar, how the other young boys of her own age had also noticed and appreciated her striking looks, and that certain aura. But now she blossoming into a young woman, well a young girl at least.
Alone with her in the classroom. His offer of extra tuition was welcomed. She was struggling with the more complex mathematical formulas and equations. He sat close to her, studying her face, her clear skin, her brown clean hair, as she studied the text. Her innocent, questioning brown eyes. Her easy engaging laughter. The sounds of the other school children on the summer lit playing field, echoing into the empty classroom. He pushed his leg against her bare leg. She did not pull away. His breathing rate increased. Years of longing, of yearning. Desires held for so long, and dearly, possibly about to come to fruition. He began to perspire slightly, and loosened his tie, and removed his jacket. She continued to study the text, and question him, when she was puzzled. He was in love with the softness of her voice, with her physicality, her innocence, her spirit, her soul, even though he did not know her. He was in love with her.
He moved even closer as she studied the text, and placed his hand on the back of her chair, then placed his hands between her shoulder blades, to see her response, and enjoyed the softness of her young , tender body. He moved his face closer to hers. So much so, they were nearly touching. She did not pull away. She turned to face him. He could feel and taste her sweet breath upon his face, and moved his face closer still towards her inviting young lips, eager to touch, to taste, to meet. Those innocent wide brown eyes, looked into his, offering herself to him. He took her face in her hands and moved his lips closer to hers. She waited…
‘Mr Williams, in God’s name, what do you think you are doing ? ‘
He had never heard her enter the room, so engrossed was he, with the possible realization of his long held desires. He immediately released his hold of his young charge, and moved away from her. He began to stutter, and sooth his hair, and clothing. His face flushed with embarrassment and desire.
‘Well, she demanded’, waiting for an answer, some explanation. Her face contorted in an expression of exasperation and bewilderment. But there was no explaining this.
He was quiet for a few moments, while he gathered his thoughts. Why lie he concluded. Be honest, be true, was his choice. ‘What does it look like, I am at last giving free reign to my love, our love. Free of the shackles of conformity, free of other people’s views of what is right or wrong ‘, His voice becoming stronger as he spoke, determined not to be denied, what he believed to be his right. ‘Free from the views of the narrow minded people, who don’t know, or will ever know what true love is’.
‘Mr Williams, this can never be, not now, not ever ‘. Her voice stern, but slow, as if she was explaining to a child. ‘Millie is only thirteen years old, and you’re a middle aged man. This can never be’.
‘You know nothing’, he shot back. ‘What are you but an aging spinster, who knows nothing of intimacy, of true love’. He moved towards her, as she retreated from his angry movements. Millie watched wide eyed and quietly from the corner of the room. Her breathing rapid, and strained. He continued to move towards the Headmistress. She could sense his volcanic like anger, being unleashed. She shuddered at the volume and mence of his voice, which filled the classroom. His face red, the veins either side of his forehead throbbing. His movements wild and uncontrolled. As soon as he was close enough to her, he pushed her with as much force as he could muster, her small frame no match for his strength and anger. She hit the classroom floor with much force, banging her head on the concrete. Her legs folded backwards in a grotesque manner. Her movements ceased.
In the silence that followed, his anger began to subside slightly, and he turned his attention once again towards Millie. In the corner of the room her face was taking on a shade of grey, and her lips very slightly tinged with a purple hue. Her breathing was labored and strained, and her eyes wide wide with fear and panic, as she struggled to breath.
‘Millie, do you have an inhaler ? , he demanded. Where is it, where is it ?’ He frantically searched her school desk, and in her school bag. But with no luck. He found her cute mobile phone, covered with stickers of cats, and some glitter. Very much the toy of a child, for that is what she was. He used her cute phone to call for an ambulance. He moved back toward Millie in the corner of the room, and sat beside her and held her. Rubbing her back gently, and pushing her now damp hair, back from her face, in the vain hope it would offer her some physical relief and comfort. He held her like this as he waited for the ambulance.
The sounds of children’s laughter, from the sunlit playing fields, echoed in the silence of the classroom.