Chapter Seventeen

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Picture/GIF above is Rachel.

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"I've decided I'm dropping out of school." Rachel announced, striding into the Art classroom. It was the last lesson of the day, a Friday, and the sun had already begun it's descent in the sky. The stained-glass windows of the classroom gave it a wonderful, hazy, red glow, only enhanced by the hints of the sun setting.

"It's only the second year of Sixth Form," James snorted, "How can you be done?"

"I'm done, too. I was done two weeks into my first year at this place." I grumbled and Finn nodded in agreement.

"Lighten up, guys." James laughed and Rachel just stuck her finger up at the dark-skinned boy as she chucked her handbag on the table and kissed Finn briefly on the cheek. She then walked over and dropped a note saying she had been at the doctors on the teacher's desk and returned to sit with us.

"Miss, can you help me?" Finn called out, and I watched Elise stride over. She wore a severe, black suit with a white blouse and Prada heels, looking incredibly imposing. Rachel winked at me and I put two fingers up at her, rolling my eyes.

"See, you need to blend the red..." her voice disappeared into the back of my mind as I watched her interact with Finn. She was closed off, careful with her words, standing a slight distance from the ginger girl. Blonde hair fell over her shoulders in waves, enhancing her eyes, and I found myself smiling gently at the sight. "I notice you haven't done much work this lesson, Ms Slater." the voice was now directed at me, as Elise rounded the table and cocked her head at me.

"Miss, I actually have, swear down." I grinned and flipped the blank page to show a rather badly drawn sketch of a building. It was widely known I wasn't the best artist in the class.

"That's... yes." she said awkwardly, looking down at the page as my friends burst into laughter.

"It's proper shit, ennit?" Rachel snorted, pointing at the drawing.

"Hey! Miss! She just swore!" I pointed out childishly with a huff as I watched Elise not even bother to conceal her smile. I knew it was a bad drawing, but I was highly offended that they didn't at least lie to stop from hurting my feelings. Although in actual fact, I didn't really care.

"Well... I think on this occasion I'll let it slide." Elise smiled properly now, her smile brighter than the sun.

"This is blatant favouritism," I huffed, "Just 'cause you like Rachel more than me."

"It's just the truth, biatch!" Rachel shouted happily.

"Sorry to break it to you like this," Elise laughed at me, "I just really don't like you."

"The truth hurts." James grinned.

After Art, Rachel walked out of school with me, slinging her free arm through the crook of my elbow.

"Wanna listen?" she questioned, holding up an earphone.

"Sure." I responded, taking it from her as I revelled in the peace of the late afternoon.

"ALL YOU LADIES POP YO' PUSSIES LIKE THIS, SHAKE YO' BODY DON'T STOP DON'T-"

"Jesus Christ Rachel!" I ripped the headphone out of my hear, whacking her with my sketchbook as she ducked away from it and cackled.

"What? It's a good song!"

"Actually just shut up. Like just shut up." I said, but I couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up in my stomach as we left school and began to walk to the bus stop. Rachel's car was broken after she crashed it into some shopping trolleys in an Aldi car park last week, so her Mum dropped her off at mine in the mornings, as the school was too far for her to drive. However, instead of me driving us today, I had suggested we walked and got the bus.

"Can we stop for some Domino's?"

"The average calorie content for one of their pizza's is, like 300 to 700 calories, Rach."

"You and your dumb cooking shows." she rolled her eyes.

"I'll make you a pizza?" I offered.

"No thanks, I'll pass. Your pizza's are bomb, don't get me wrong, but nothing quite compares to good ol' Domino's."

"Fat bitch." I joked, grinning.

"I know, right?" Rachel grinned back and slapped her completely flat, toned stomach. "I always get, like, mushrooms on mine anyways. And chicken, that has protein!" the brunette insisted.

"Minus two calories for Rachel Warwick for having one tiny little sliver of mushroom on her pizza."

"That's just rude."

"Indeed."

"Indeed?" Rachel snorted, "Sorry posh-boy. God, you're turning into her." she laughed.

"Turning into who?" I pouted, but I already knew the answer.

"Elise Elderflower, Bad Ass Motherfucker MILF of the century, of course. Except she has a nicer butt than yours. You aren't turning into that bit. Just the posh bit, not the butt bit."

"Rachel! You shouldn't be looking there!"

"What, like you don't?" Rachel snorted as I turned red. "Exactly. Have you guys had sex yet?"

"What the hell! That's personal!" I screeched, whilst Rachel just shrugged calmly and took a bite out of a strawberry lace, the packet of which she had just taken from her bag. "We have not, thank you very much. It's illegal, in case you've forgotten. Gimme one." I took a strawberry lace from the packet and Rachel shrugged again.

"I don't even know if it's illegal. I mean, immoral maybe, but you're over 18, you can drink, drive and consent to sex. She's only, like, 20, right?"

"30."

"Oh bloody hell, that's older than I thought. Still, though, that's only, like, 12 years. No one would bat an eyelid if, say, a 49-year-old and a 61-year-old were dating."

"Errr... I think they would, actually," I laughed, "And if they didn't it's probably because the 49-year-old isn't their fucking art teacher." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm surprised you haven't even googled it. If it was me I would have a whole ass binder of information on it and my own Reddit thread asking for people's opinions." Rachel shrugged.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm doing my bloody A levels, I don't really have time for that."

"You literally sit there in Art and stare at MILF lady for an hour, tell me that's productive." Rachel snorted.

"It's productive to me." I huffed, grinning, not even bothering to deny it.

"Lemme google it." Rachel got out her phone as we walked and clicked on the first article, the headline of which she read aloud. "Why teacher-student relationships are never okay by Rachel Reid..." Rachel trailed off, "Ok maybe not this one. She has a dope first name tho."

"Told ya." I responded with a sigh. It wasn't like that was news to me, anyway. I stayed silent for a few minutes, shoving my hands deep in my coat pockets as I walked alongside Rachel, who flicked through article to article to article.

"Okay, so maybe don't sleep with her..." Rachel began, "Just, like, wait. I'm sorry, this is gonna sound soooo dumb because I'm just a teenager and yadda yadda yadda but, like... the way you look at her - the way she looks at you - I really think it isn't a normal situation. I mean, it isn't normal in the first place, but... you get what I mean. You literally light up when she walks into a room. She practically melts whenever you talk. It's almost sickening to watch, especially as you guys are so shit at hiding it. You would think 'the Ice Queen' as she's known around school would be good at hiding her feelings, but she's honestly more of a teenager than you."

"Oh, I don't know if that's -"

"It's true." Rachel shrugged, "Sorry, but it's true. So while I can agree with some of these arguments and shit, like it is wrong, it is illegal, it does have a power dynamic you need to be careful of... there are extenuating circumstances. Only," she added, her voice turning deadly serious, "If you're over 18, though. If you're a minor it's disgusting and that's my only stance on that."

"No, I agree." I nodded.

"So in summary," Rachel took a dramatically deep breath, "Don't have sex with her until she's not your teacher, because that's dumb. But when you leave Hallway House, go fucking mental, and tie her up and shit, and get a strap." Rachel took a bit of a strawberry lace and added, "It will change your life!"

"Oh my god, I wish I could unhear everything you just said, what the hell!?"

"What, all of it? I thought it was pretty sound advice." Rachel pouted.

"No, no," I winced, covering my ears, "The first bit was great and perfect and I agree and I'm really glad we had this talk, just maybe... the last bit, maybe not that..."

"What, the strap?" Rachel announced loudly, ignoring the looks from passers by as we took a shortcut to the bus stop through the high street.

"Shut up, oh my god!" I groaned, trying unsuccessfully to hit her again with my sketchbook. Rachel moved out of the way, then ducked into a convenience store to get some vodka. Afterwards, she went to Poundland for toothpaste, as she was of course stocking up on the essentials, then we got the bus back to mine, chatting amicably about insignificant things the whole way. Rachel's mum had just pulled up when we arrived from walking back from the bus stop, and I gave her a quick hug before she jumped into the car and I unlocked the front door to my house. As I placed my keys in the bowl, I switched on the light and sighed as a familiar, melancholy feeling washed over me. It had been lurking all day, and now I was alone, it reared it's ugly head.

I had been so busy, so wrapped up in myself and other people for the last few months I hadn't realised how much happier I had been feeling. But now I felt as if the monstrous creature that was depression was beginning to creep slowly back. Although, in all truthfulness, I knew that it had never gone away, and it never would, it was just biding it's time, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself again. Nothing much had changed. Nothing tragic had happened, nothing particularly bad to make me feel this way. But that was the thing. I didn't need that, didn't need a trigger, because it came and went as it pleased, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I began to delve about in my bag, suddenly realising Rachel had left the vodka behind as she had coerced me into carrying it. I sent her a quick text asking if I could have it, and she said yes, so I wired her the money for it and set down six shot glasses on the kitchen counter, because why not? I had no reason not to.

I downed the first shot.

The obnoxiously loud clinking sound of the glasses being slammed back onto the countertop only served to remind me how truly lonely I was. That despite all my friends, I would never truly have a family, never truly have a Mum or a Dad I could come home to and tell about my day.

I downed the second shot.

My mind fell to Elise, as it often did. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever felt, and I was convinced she would remain the most beautiful thing I would ever feel. Do you know how limiting that is? To think at such a ripe, young age I'd experienced the most exhilarating person I would ever meet, and I'd spend the rest of my life just settling. To think I'd tasted the most natural, rawest form of sugar and everything else would be refined and synthetic. That nothing beyond this moment in my lifetime would add up, that all the years beyond me could not combine themselves to be sweeter than her.

I downed the third shot.

Then I paused, my hand clenching the neck of the bottle. I realised that in all my moments when I got like this, when alcohol felt my only option, I never called anybody. I never wanted my friends to see me like this, to watch me with pity in their eyes as they saw me unravel at the very seams. But there was one person that I felt had seen me before, both at my lowest and at my highest. Who I trusted explicitly. As the vodka settled into my system, I picked up the phone, dialling the number I realised absentmindedly I had memorised, before I had a chance to change my mind.

"Hello?" came a husky voice, "Emma?"

"Hello." I responded, "I was wondering if you were free." I whispered, trying so desperately not to sound weak and pathetic.

"When?" I could almost hear her frowning on the phone.

"Um. Now."

"Is everything okay?" she sounded worried now.

"I- not entirely. It's - you know what? This was a mistake. I'm gonna-"

"I'm coming over."

"-go. I'm gonna go." I hung up, barely registering her words. A second later, the doorbell rang and I frowned, wondering how she had gotten here so quickly. I glanced at the clock and realised with a frown that it hadn't been a second. It had been half an hour, and I had been staring at the bottle the entire time.

I downed another shot and my throat burned with regret.

"Emma?" came Elise's voice from outside.

"It's open!" I shouted back, my voice hoarse.

"What?" she called back, her voice muffled.

"It's open!" I repeated, and the simple action of having to do so made me collapse with tears. Elise entered the room just as I knocked the bottle of vodka to the floor and fell down with it, my back sliding down the cupboards as my shoulders shuddered with tears. No - not tears, heaving, shaking sobs that wracked my entire body. Elise quickly emptied the four shot glasses into the sink, then bent down and gently persuaded me to move away from the shattered glass on the tiled floors.

Do you ever get that feeling where you just want to say 'I don't know what to do' over and over again? Because you truly don't have any idea what to do anymore, and you feel as if you're trapped in this black, empty void of mess you can't seem to get out of no matter how fast you try to run.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do anymore, and I'm starting to think I never did.

"Emma? Can you hear me?" she murmured, careful not to touch me or make any sudden movements. My chest fell up and down rapidly and the room began to swim.

"Yes." I responded through gritted teeth.

"Okay, I want you to take deep breaths, can you do that for me? In for four seconds, out for four seconds." I began to do what she asked, struggling against the overwhelming feeling of my lungs closing up completely. Her soothing voice echoed all around me, the lighthouse in a storm, "Now I want you to close your eyes and focus on tensing and relaxing each muscle group for two to three seconds each.  Start with the feet and toes, then move up to the knees, thighs, glutes, chest, arms, hands, neck, jaw, and eyes—all while maintaining deep, slow breaths. Breathe in through the nose, hold for a count of five while the muscles tense, then breathe out through the mouth on release. Can you do that for me?" Elise questioned, kneeling opposite me. I nodded quickly, and she smiled, looking relieved. I closed my eyes, doing as she said, and felt my breathing slow to a more normal pace.

"Ok. Ok." I muttered under my breath, more to myself than her.

"Right, this next thing is gonna sound pretty stupid, but I just want you to try it, ok? Try shouting the word "STOP!!!" really loud inside your head." said Elise, sitting back on her heels, a gentle smile on her face. "By shouting the word "STOP" you're interrupting the emergency message that your brain is sending to your adrenal glands. Often people get into an endless loop repeating the same catastrophic thoughts over and over in their head. Interrupting this endless loop gives you the opportunity to replace the scary message with a calming one. It helps, I promise." she smiled again, and I closed my eyes once more, tears still escaping from my eyes but my breathing almost back to normal.

I don't know what to do. STOP!

I don't know what to do. STOP!

I don't know what to do. STOP!

"Is it working?" Elise suddenly asked, and I nodded my head with a frown as I realised it really was. She looked at me then, and as my thoughts began to clear slightly, I looked at her too. I couldn't explain it - the feeling I got when I really looked at her. It was a feeling in my chest, in my stomach. It was a rush of feelings throughout my whole body; underneath the surface of my skin, in my veins, in between every single last costal cartilage in my lungs. It was like a guitar strumming beautifully in my stomach, and my lungs were a pianist's favourite piece.  One look.  That was all it would take. One look at her, and all these emotions would take over. One look, and there's a sudden but calm change in the rhythm of my heart, and it echoes her name. It's one look and I fall more and more for Elise Elderflower.

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