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Post by dante azrael kane on Mar 2, 2011 1:11:32 GMT -5
Classes had ended for the day and things had gone relatively well. Dante knew that most of the teachers didn't how some of the students behaved but he never had much of a problem with them. This was music after all and most of the students in his class would show up unless he happened to warn them about a purely theoretical class where they would be looking at sheet music and other apparently boring things.
Most of the students were alright but there were a few that just wanted to show up, play some music, mess around with the instruments and then leave. Those were the ones that were going to be a little bit more difficult to convince to actually pay attention but Dante didn't mind. He knew it could be worse and at least he did his best to be at their level and try to see things from their perspective. After all, he had been there once.
Sitting on one of the chairs with one of the guitars, he adjusted the tuning pegs, trying to get it to sound right. He was great at doing it by ear and that just made it a whole lot easier to get it right. Having gotten to the last string, he adjusted and strummed and turned, the same as he had with the previous strings.
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Post by ruby on Mar 5, 2011 19:57:06 GMT -5
Savannah stacked her textbooks and notebooks neatly into her back pack, taking her precious time. Before and after every class, she had to get a bag check from the teachers. Only because they weren't going to take any precautions when it came to her. She was able to use just about anything to self harm, so they had to make sure she didn't take anything away from the classroom that wasn't there before. For example, scissors, screw drivers, rulers, strings/wires, etc etc. So if she kept it neat, then it would make the teacher's job a lot more easier when it came to checking her bag. She had nothing to hide. She wasn't afraid to tell people she was self harming when people asked her what she was in for, and she wasn't afraid if they judged. Because what they say are true. But those words didn't stop the hurt. No matter what, Savannah wanted death to take her away. She hated mean words. Hated her father. Hated her mother. Hated living. Why couldn't she have died that night? Why couldn't Isaac just left her there to die? She should be dead. "Savannah, are you ready?" Her math teacher called out, bringing her back to the classroom. "Oh. Yeah! Sorry to keep you waiting!" She beamed apologetically, grabbing her back pack and hurriedly making her way down the aisle to the door.
Once she got it checked, she roamed aimlessly around the hallways, her mind ticking off the things that needed to be done by tonight. She stared at number of things that she needed to do, and suddenly she had the urge to jump out a window. Or off the school roof. She needed something. Anything. Why isn't there anything around that she could use to cut herself with? She peaked into each of the classrooms, all occupied. Down at the end of the hall was the music room. She could use guitar strings or something. Without checking to see if there was a teacher in there, she barged into the room, pushing the door open as it hit the wall loudly. She looked around the room, her cerulean blue eyes finally landing on the teacher tuning his guitar. Her eyes widened for a second, hesitating to speak. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! I-I-I...... I thought I left something in here, but I guess I didn't." She lied, stuttering, trying to avoid eye contact. Her frail hand wrapped around the door knob, slowly backing out of the room, awkwardly. She paused, the door closed a quarter way through, and sighed. "I lied." She whispered, rather dejectedly I might add. "I'm sorry" She told him, not once did she look at him. Her hand fell to her side, turning to leave. She didn't know why she lied. She hated liars. Hated lying, and yet she lied every time people asked her about her scar and her bruises and her broken bones. She's such a hypocrite.
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Post by dante azrael kane on Mar 5, 2011 21:43:03 GMT -5
Dante was just about done with the guitar but before he could even decide if he should put it away or play a song, the door slammed open, causing him to look up suddenly.
The girl looked a little caught off guard but Dante was sure it should have been the other way around since she was the one who just barged in here. He didn't mind though, it was a class room and the students were free to just come in and use the space in they needed to.
Looking up, he heard the little speech her gave. She even started stuttering a bit but Dante just smiled. He didn't want to scare any of the students or make then feel uncomfortable or anything but it seemed it was too late for that and he hadn't even done anything to do that.
"That's alright," he said when she admitted to lying. She had to have been in there for a reason. Maybe she just wanted to get away or just have some where quiet to rest a while. It wasn't as though he was using the entire room.
"You can stay if you need to," he said, watching as she was moving back out of the room. He didn't mind the company. He was just checking on the instruments in the room before he locked them up.
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Post by ruby on Mar 8, 2011 21:48:44 GMT -5
Savannah's hand was itching to slice something against her arm. She felt as if she was her mother, shaking constantly from the need to shoot up marijuana our something. She hated thinking about her mother, just laying on the couch, high off her ass, skinny as hell. Savannah was sure her mother was just waiting for death. No one sat on the couch in the living room anymore. One, because her mother never leaves the couch unless she needs to go out to buy some more drugs. Second, it's just weird sitting there if her mother isn't there. It's creepy. Like you wouldn't kiss a corpse that's been decaying for a couple of weeks now, would you? No, you wouldn't, so her mother's couch was no different. Maybe she didn't fall far from the apple tree. Her father is addicted to alcohol, her mother was addicted drugs, and she was addicted to cutting.
But she wouldn't even be like this if it weren't for her father. Stupid bastard. No. She shook her head, she didn't think that. Her father wasn't that. It wasn't him. He was drunk. He was really drunk. But all guys were only after one thing- even teachers and professors and policemen. Everybody. They shouldn't be allowed to be alive. Women can figure out how to reproduce. Or maybe condition their children that are boys into a proper gentleman. But then again, it'd be wrong. It'd be like Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, but more..... chaotic? Maybe. But Savannah didn't want to be the one to plant that kind of idea to the world and cause World War III. That'd be bad. But guys like that stupid guy and her dad deserved to be in jail. For life. God, where was that blade! Her hand gripped onto her forearm, digging it in with her nails.
Her? Stay in a room with a guy? Alone? Savannah felt the panic that was about to come bubble inside her, her stomach sick with butterflies. No. No. She can't have another panic episode. Not today. Not when she really needed to cut her skin first. Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, memories surging through, playing like a movie. His hands on her throat, her arms, her body. Everywhere. God his hand was everywhere. His kisses his tongue. Her favourite white blouse broken, torn away. Her red and white skirt gone. Bruises. Bruises everywhere. Her head was bleeding from the gashes he had caused before.
Savannah grabbed onto the door knob once again, this time for support, afraid that she'd fall if she didn't hold onto something. Her ribs were bruised, maybe even some broken. It was hard to breathe. No matter how hard she struggled, it wouldn't work. He's too strong for her. Screams after screams, no one ever came to save her. He'd punch her, kick her, throw her, push her. No one. Her grip tightened around the knob, her knuckles white. She fell to her knees, an arm wrapped around her stomach. She felt sick. Disgusting. Dirty. Very very dirty. "I..... I..... I.... I c-can't."
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Post by dante azrael kane on Mar 19, 2011 23:48:01 GMT -5
Something seemed very wrong with this scene. Usually Dante was pretty cool about things and he was one of the most approachable teachers at the school so having a student seem eager to get out of the way was something he wasn't really used to.
He had considered that she might have a few phobias or anxiety problems but still her behavior seemed out of the norm to him. She seemed thoroughly freaked out and Dante didn't that kind of reaction in people.
Standing up as she turned to leave, he placed his guitar down on the ground, letting it lean against his chair. The girl reached for the door knob and one moment he thought she might just leave but in the next, she was on the ground, on her knees looking like she was in pain.
This was not good. Dante had a responsibility with these kids. When they were in his classroom, he had to keep an eye out for their safety so even if there was no class in session right now he wasn't going to let anything happen to this girl.
Moving up to her up quickly, Dante got down on his knees beside her. he would have put a hand on her should to comfort her but something told him not to, just in case it freaked her out even more. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked. Stupid questions, yeah, but her answer might give him more of an insight into what was going on here. Was she in physical pain or was this some kind of emotional trauma? Because the first he could with but the second, well, he just wasn't qualified for that, that's why they had counselors and psychiatrists in this place. Dante just hoped that he could help.
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