I could hear his steps on the corridor and I suddenly felt afraid of what could come my way. It was not my best experience at all and yet this one I always remembered, annoyingly repeating itself as if I should always have in mind that fateful and frightful night.
“Come this way, Lucky. Come on, let’s end this game.” I felt the urge to respond to his words, as if I knew he would find me anyway and I would feel worse than I already did. I was also aware that he could feel me tremble and my blood appealed to him at all times, so this thought made my bones squeak at the movement I was about to make. Or was I only thinking they did? One sometimes remembers the sounds they never made, but the sounds they thought they made, as if their experience should be even more terrifying when thought at. The teacher watched me warily and waited for my words, smiling as if he was there and knew what was I talking about or even worse.. he felt me tremble, my blood appealed to him that day and still does.
That noise his feet made on the floor stopped and I was nervous and annoyed at my bones. Why would my mind let them make any movement, any noise?
“I reckon you love this game, Lucky.”
Why did he call me “Lucky”? That wasn’t my name, as far as I remembered. Oh, but maybe it was.. and I couldn’t recall any truth about my being, my sole existence being connected to his chase and my fright.
—“Aren’t you really lucky for having me here? I’m the only one you should apprehend as a great teacher in this school and if you don’t.. I’ll chase you down till you do.” His smirk was really something you wouldn’t like, but maybe he was the only great teacher there.–
Oh, dear Lord! I remember now. His words.. maybe that’s why he always calls me Lucky. But what did I do?
His eyes were chasing me everywhere now that I realized who he really was and how I got really lucky that night. And yet I didn’t know why I still did not hate him.
“Are you sure, Lucky? Are you really sure you’re going to escape?” I was sure he and I both heard that noise, because I could feel it in his voice. Someone, or something, didn’t care which one was true, was coming for me and that man chasing me was aware of this too.
Everything I had to do was to distract him, to make him chase me still, until help came. And I did it for long enough.. yet no one or nothing came for me.
“Haha. Hope? Not for you, dear Lucky.” His laugh, so familiar, a laugh I never liked but was sure I would always remember and yet I couldn’t remember whose.
“Don’t panic. I’ll find you.”
And I didn’t. My body stopped from it’s annoying and continuous trembling, everything settled at once and I got up with or without the squeak my mind still remembers, I looked at the door knob and saw it bright as if a window was there, in the closet of that random room I locked myself into, I put my hands on it and opened the door. This time I’m sure the squeak was real. Or my mind still plays stupid games with me, letting me feel fear all the times it recalls that memory. I don’t. I don’t want to, either. But my brain always does..
And there it was, the voice, the voice that saved my life that night.
“Get away from that door!” he shouted pretty darn loud, giving me the confidence I needed. I got out as fast as I could and then I pushed the dorm’s door on purpose, thinking he was still there. But he was already drifting away, hatred in his eyes and a knife in his hand.
I somehow want to forget all this, but I can see his eyes, right there, in front of the classroom , smiling innocently and at times, letting me see a smirk that reminds me of his laugh.