He was my teacher

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
It wasn't until the last lesson when it suddenly felt real. He wasn't joking around. He wanted to be more than just my teacher. I wanted him to go away.

Submitted: April 18, 2014

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Submitted: April 18, 2014

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He was my teacher

A knock. I hope it's not him. But who can it be at this hour? I look through the peephole and he looks back at me. If I ignore him he might just go away. He knocks again. I don't want to let him in. Of all of the things I have never wanted in my life, this is what I want the least. I want to be somewhere else, do something else, be someone else. Anywhere, anything, anyone else. I open the door and he lets himself in. I liked it better when there was a locked door between us. He quickly finds his way to my couch. It's blue. With him he has a bag of cheesy crisps and hot salsa. He sits in one end of the blue couch and invites me to sit with him. I sit in the other end as far away as possible with my legs bend in front of me. He opens the bag of crisps and starts gobbling them down two-three at a time. I have always thought he was a little off. He would ask the weirdest questions when we were out driving, like if I met him in a bar would I give him my number, or if I would live with him in an apartment in the centre of Aarhus. He even asked me to come on a two weeks holiday with him to Spain all expenses paid. Some of the other female students had said he also asked them the same weird questions so I figured he was properly joking around. It was not until the last lesson when it suddenly felt real. It got personal. He is now moving closer to me on my blue couch opening the jar of salsa. My legs are like a protective shield between us. He offers me some of his crisps. I decline. The last lesson was driving on the motorway. I had been anxious about this lesson. I was once in a car accident which took place on the motorway, and the feeling of crashing and dying had stuck with me ever since. When he started asking me what my type is, I didn't reply. I was too busy keeping my eyes on the road. He asked again and again, and if he was my type. I said no. His questioning didn't stop here. "Can I touch your chin?" I found this question extremely personal and crossing the line. "Can I put my hand on your thigh?" "Can I sleep in your bed?" He kept asking me why it couldn't be him I could fall for, not accepting the fact he is my teacher, more than 20 years older than me, has a daughter my age and that my type is just different, so I told him I am gay. At that point I hadn't even come out to my family yet because I wasn't ready, but I thought it might make him stop interrogating me. I have never been so wrong. He wanted to know what type of girl I'd like. How feminine and if he was not feminine enough for me. He had longish hair. I told him no matter how long his hair was, he would never be a girl, and since I am only interested in girls, he'd never ever be my type. For the rest of the lesson he spoke with someone on the phone in Turkish. I don't know about what. When I was finally home I could breathe normally, until I heard the knock on my door. His arm is now around me. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs that he needs to get out. Even though he is already sitting too close to me he tries to move closer, begging me if he can kiss me. I say no. Before I know it his other arm is around me too holding me down trying to kiss me anyway. His breathe reeks of cheesy crisps. I can barely turn my head away, that's how strong his grip is. He is sitting on my feet making my shield into a jail I can't get out from. With me struggling he manages to kiss my cheek. It's like I have cheesy salsa crumbs everywhere. He is stronger than I am. I'm stuck. I have never felt so scared in my entire life. The fear of crashing is nothing compared to the fear of what he might do to me next. I stop struggling to get away and that seems to loosen his grip. The second his grip loosens I jump up and in a quick motion I am standing 3 meters away with the coffee table dividing us. "I would like you to go away now" I say with a shivering voice. He just stares at me. I repeat myself this time trying to sound more firm, but the same sentence comes out the same way. He looks at my bedroom and takes a step closer to it so he can look inside. "I would like you to go away now" I hear myself saying. He is ignoring me and talking about my bedroom. "Come into the bedroom and show me the kind of girl you would like me to be." He just invited me into my own bedroom. I don't know what to say, so I repeat my sentence from before three more times. The sentence is clearly not working, but it is the only thing I can come up with. He repeats himself too, taking a step towards me and reaching for my hand. I take a step back holding my breathe. This is never going to end. In my head there is playing ten billion different scenarios of how this will turn out. None of which are pleasant. We just stand there starring at each other in what seems like an eternity, him still reaching out for my hand. "So you want me to leave?" He sounds almost surprised. I can't even say yes, I just repeat my sentence again. He puts down his hand, "fine I will go." But he doesn't. He stands there waiting for me to say something else, but I'm silent. Then he leaves, not closing the door behind him. I am still standing behind my coffee table like some kind of statute as I hear him walking away. I should close the door. I should lock it and never open it again. However I cannot move. It's like I am frozen. I don't understand. He was my teacher.


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