Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
I already knew all doors and windows were locked, but I went and checked each one because I knew Corrine’s eyes were on me as I did so, and the small gesture would go far with her. Poor girl needed to feel some sense of safety.
Once I was done, I went and dropped down on the coffee table, leaning forward to where she sat on the couch and patted her arm. “It’s going to be all right. I promise. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone, and tomorrow we’ll come up with a plan.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t allow them to fall. I saw the resistance to show weakness, but knew she desperately needed to be held. Proper student principal etiquette be damned, I moved to the edge of the couch and pulled her into my arms, holding her close.
It was likely that I was the first form of physical contact and comfort she’d had in a long time because she instantly pressed her weight into me, nuzzled her head into my shoulder and clung to my clothing with her fingers. She needed this. I could feel it. I could sense it. And the poor girl deserved it.
Should I have pulled away?
Maybe.
But right now, this frightened woman needed comfort. She needed to know she wasn’t alone anymore. I hadn’t volunteered for this position, but there sure as hell wasn’t anyone else who was standing in line to fill the spot.
“I’m tired of being scared. I hate being alone. I’m even more tired of feeling insane.” Her muffled voice broke my heart. She held on to me with tight fists, and I could tell she didn’t want to break our connection anytime soon.
I rubbed her back and tried not to focus on the smell of her hair—fruits and tea tree. “Just try to get some sleep. I promise you that we’ll try to come up with a solution tomorrow.”
She backed away from my embrace and swiped at the tears in her eyes. “I haven’t slept through a night in forever. I don’t even know what a good night’s rest feels like anymore.”
I repositioned the pillow at the farthest end of the couch and patted it. “Lie down.”
She did so, and once she was stretched out, I covered her with one of the blankets and folded the remaining one at her feet in case she got cold. I then walked over to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and brought it to the coffee table within easy reach if she got thirsty. I didn’t want her to have to fumble in the dark in the middle of the night.
“I can sit in this chair and wait until you fall asleep,” I said, willing to do whatever it took to make her feel safe.
She smiled warmly as she pulled the blanket up under her chin and rolled to her side so she could stare at me. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.” She giggled which was a welcomed sound for me. “I don’t think having my principal sit here and watch me try to fall asleep will help with my insomnia.”
I moved over to my favorite leather chair, reclined back in it, and smirked. “I think we’ve crossed the line of being more than just student and principal, wouldn’t you say?”
She giggled again as she burrowed her cheek into the pillow. “What? You don’t share your Raiders shirt with your other students?”
“Just the special ones,” I said as I made myself comfortable. I had no intentions of leaving her alone in this room until I was confident she would be able to fall asleep.
“Special? Does that mean that I’m out of detention?”
“Ahh, playing dirty, I see. Trying to get what you want when I’m tired and defenseless.” I gave a wink. “That depends if you plan on being honest with me on why you’ve been late and missed so much school since arriving here.”
She remained silent but I could see that she was studying me, considering if she could trust me with the information.
“I think it’s the least I’m owed,” I added. “And I’m also not going to judge you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“I think I have OCD or something,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to the carpeted floor.
“Explain,” I prodded, not giving up on what could be a very difficult conversation.
She looked back up at me. “I keep every door in my house closed. Every single door. But I then doubt if I truly closed them all. I double-check over and over again. I go upstairs, then downstairs, then upstairs again. I close the windows, check them again and again. I make sure all the curtains are drawn and won’t allow even a sliver of space between the fabric. And just when I feel I have the house sealed up tight… I repeat the entire process again. And sometimes… again. It gets to the point where I can spend half the day obsessing. And then when I finally get the courage to leave the house, I have to run to my car. And sometimes I worry I’m being followed so I drive around in circles… not going to school.” She repositioned herself so that she was leaning up on her elbow, clearly growing agitated with the memories. “I feel I’m two seconds from being committed sometimes, and my school attendance is my last concern.”