...WARNING...

...I, author S1r2enix edit all of my stories by myself, so you may come across errors and grammar mistakes. Please keep in mind, that I am only human, and we all make mistakes from time to time....

...All my characters in each of my stories come from my imagination, except those who actually exist but have nothing to do with anything I write....

...COPYRIGHT ALL RIGHTS RESERVED....

......................

MY second half of the academic year was drawing to a close, however not in the manner I would have desired. Oliver, a guy in my class was the most aggravating person on the planet. For some reason, he had been harassing me all year, and the prior year as well. I had attempted to ignore Oliver and his friends, but I've had enough of it.

Today was relatively quiet. I had approximately five classes, of which three were in which I received the results of the tests that the entire class had received weeks prior. After lunch, I attended literature and French. After the bell rang, I entered Biology and waited for our final lesson of the day. A few minutes later, our Student Body President, Hillary, entered the classroom.

"Students, please be aware that Mr. Henry is unable to attend class today." in the back of the classroom (who has a habit of attempting to monopolize the attention of Mr. Henry at all times) inquired, "Why can't Mr. Henry attend today? We were planning to dissect a frog." The student's voice trailed off, and she stretched out her lips in a dramatic fashion. Hillary sighed before replying.

"Not that it's your concern, but Mr. Henry's wife was admitted to the hospital, for reasons that I can't reveal to you. However, I am able to inform you that you are free to leave the school premises. " This has caused a great deal of joy amongst the students. However, some, such as myself, were concerned for the wellbeing of Mr. Henry's wife and expressed their hope that he will soon return to the school.

Upon Hillary's departure from the classroom, the atmosphere became chaotic. Students began to hurl paper balls and aircraft into the air, draw on the board with chalk pens, play loud music, or wear headphones, forming into their respective clubs with only a handful of members present. I do not wish to imagine the behaviour of the promiscuous and coupled up students. The majority of them were members of the cheerleading and football teams.

I, on the other hand, opened my sketchbook and began sketching a girl. I was in no hurry to return home and did not mind waiting for the ringing of the bell. As I began sketching the eyes (which I find to be a difficult part of the body to draw) Oliver and his friends approached me. How I knew, when I was concentrating on sketching, was that I could smell his cologne all around me. It was the type of cologne that would make a person recoil and wonder what the buyer was thinking when purchasing it.

I let out a long sigh, rolling my eyes, and listened to the mutterings of his friends. I do not mind having people observe my sketches, or even myself for that matter. I know I am beautiful. Oliver, on the other hand, was a class tyrant. He was an unpleasant person, and nothing he did was good.  And I knew this time would not be any different.

One of his companions spoke to him in a whisper, and he smiled. He then grabbed my pencil case, emptying it onto my desk. Some of which fell under my chair, others rolled away onto the floor. Several of the pencil points broke, leaving dots on the sketch. My sketch, which I had been working on for an extended period of time, was strewn with dots and marks from broken pencil points. The sight of him laughing with his companions while my sketch was in tatters was the final straw for me.

" Oliver, you are so irritating! Why do you keep bothering and bullying others, especially me? What have I ever done to you? Only people with a troubled family life or personal issues bother and bully those who are better off than them! If that is the case, I highly recommend seeing a therapist. They will be more than happy to assist you. And If you manage to leave the therapist's office, take your little club somewhere else! " Oliver and his friends glanced at me, their smiles gone now, some in shock and Oliver without emotion. I gathered my belongings and exited the classroom. The bell rang and I started to walk home.

I had my headphones on me at the time, so I plugged them into my phone and turned it on. I was listening to one of my favourite artists, humming along to the tune. I shut my eyes for a moment, when suddenly my headphones were removed from my ears. I rolled my eyes as the scent of cologne I was familiar with filled my nose. I turned to him, ready to tell him off, when I noticed a red and purplish stain on his arm. Wait, that can't be a stain, it's a bruise. It looked like it was done between one or two days ago. I looked into his eyes, and I saw a black haze of sadness and anger. I reached out to touch his injured arm, and Oliver pushed me hard against the wall.

He looked me straight in the eye with a smirk on his face, and I let out a sigh of exasperation. I tried to pull away from him, but he held me too tightly. He laughed aloud, and said, “You don’t look so tough any more, Alexandra, do you? Why are you suddenly trembling? You said I was a man with a troubled, right? Let me show you what a man with a troubled family would do.” My eyes widened, and he began to lean towards me. I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear what was coming next. A few seconds passed, and I heard him laughing hysterically.

He was able to restrain himself from laughing until he could no longer contain himself. He then remarked, "Did you honestly expect me to kiss someone with a face like yours? You are the ugliest woman I have ever seen, and there is not a shred of attractiveness in you!" He released me, laughing loudly as he walked away.

I was furious. In fact, I was so angry that I wanted to run and strike him for his action. I wanted vengeance so badly. However, as my thoughts shifted to thoughts of vengeance, the image of Oliver's injured arm suddenly returned to my mind.

THE NEXT DAY

I awoke, completed my morning routine, and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I knew that my younger sister would be preparing pancakes for breakfast, as she is fond of doing so on Thursdays. I finished my breakfast, thanked my younger sister for the breakfast, and kissed my youngest sister on the cheek before heading off to school. The day passed in a strange silence. I kept glancing around, expecting my bully to reappear with his gang, but nothing happened. Nearly the entire day passed, and I noticed that I did not see Oliver. I did not hear his loud voice, and I did not smell his foul cologne.

The bell rang, and I entered the P.E. class, which seemed to be Oliver's favourite. I observed three of his friends, 'Connor', 'William' and 'Marcos', who are the ones he spends most time with. I hid in a corner and listened to their conversation. Unfortunately, I was unable to make out the details, but I was able to infer that Oliver's father, a wealthy businessman, had personally informed William that Oliver had a cold and would not be attending school. Upon hearing this, I felt a surge of joy. No longer would Oliver be a burden to me.

For some reason, I was concerned as I recalled Oliver's bruised hand from the previous day. Why should I be concerned? Nothing positive has ever been said about Oliver's background, except for the Knight family surname, which has some bearing on Oliver's own family name. However, no one is aware of  everything that circulates this fact. Oliver's father is a pillar of our nation, and he has never been accused of being a generous and kind man. As I continued to investigate, I heard some rumours that Oliver's father had picked him up from school the previous day, and a group of individuals were gossiping about the Principal having a conversation with Oliver's father in his office.

A few weeks passed without any sightings of Oliver, who had not attended school, and it appeared that he had lost contact with his friends. It seemed as if none of them had contacted him since, suggesting that Oliver had been the driving force behind their attempts to bully others. They hadn't bothered anyone since the day Oliver was picked up by his father. On the day in question, I received a call from the principals' office, in which the secretary informed me that I had been selected by the principal to carry out all the assignments assigned to Oliver, who had been absent due to illness. I was unfamiliar with the address of Oliver's residence, so I consulted his friends. Marcos provided me with the address, and I visited Oliver's residence after school.

I gaped at the expansive mansion before me. It was no ordinary mansion; it had been constructed centuries before, and had been inherited by Oliver's family.  How is it possible that I am so knowledgeable about the history of our country? I have always been interested in the history of our nation, and I am fond of any kind of historical narrative. When I was ten years old, I set out on a mission to learn all I could about the history of my country and its environs (which is highly applicable in history classes).

I went to the door and rang the bell. A woman opened the door and I looked at her, but I did not recognize her. She spoke to me in a thick Canadian accent, asking me who I was, what I wanted, and why I was here. I told her that I was Oliver's classmate and that I had been sent by the principal to be Oliver's new project partner. She looked down at me for a moment, then rolled her eyes. She said, "Fine. And don't be loud. I can't stand loud noises." I silently laughed as the thought of her being spoiled from birth crossed my mind.

The woman instructed me to ascend the stairs and proceed down the hallway until I arrived at a black door leading to Oliver's room. As I ascended the stairs, the woman began to complain that Oliver should be assigned to military school for his indisciplined behaviour. Upon reaching the door, which was black, just as the woman had indicated, I knocked on the door.

I knocked lightly on the door. A few seconds later, I heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. The door opened, and he was about to shout when he noticed me. I caught sight of him, and he stiffened. I asked him if I could enter, and he grudgingly allowed me to. I entered and seated myself in the chair by his desk, while he collapsed on his bed.

The room was dimly lit and gothic in appearance. There were numerous off-the-shoulder posters of skulls and graves, as well as spray paint on the walls and furniture. I was shocked to find myself in such a room. I gave him his assignments, but he did not accept them. I tried to explain the first exercises to him, but he didn't pay any attention at all. He continued to treat me as if I belonged to a lower social class. No one from a lower social class should be treated in such a manner, yet he treated me with disrespect ad rudeness. I packed my belongings and exited the room as the door was opened by the Canadian woman who was yelling at us for not being quiet. I turned my back on her and descended the stairs and exited the residence.

After a few days, I was summoned to the principal's office again. "Alexandra, you are a highly intelligent student at Saint Benjamin' Academy. Would you be willing to assist your peers who are not as intelligent as you?"

"If by 'other students' you are referring to Oliver, then I apologize, sir-" I tried to argue with him, but he interrupted me at every turn. The principal was not having any of it. He left me no choice but to assist Oliver through the remainder of the final semester, or else I would be forced to repeat the same year with him.

The following afternoon, I returned to the expansive residence. The Canadian female receptionist opened the door for me, and I made my way to Oliver's study. I sat in the chair I had occupied before, and Oliver's eyes fixed on me, scrutinizing my every movement. He scowled at me, peered at me, and demanded, "What is it you wish to discuss, shorty? If you are here again to discuss school matters, then I strongly advise you to leave." I swallowed my pride, holding my tongue to not say things I'd regret.  Having come all the way for my future's sake, and he continues to speak to me as though I were a piece of rubbish! I wasn't going to repeat a year, when I had all the rights to pass!

"Firstly, do not address me as Shorty. Secondly, I am here because I have brought your assigned homework and all the missed assignments so that you may remain in your room lazying. Thirdly, I have collected all the required material for the four exams and the final exams of the academic year that you've missed. Fourthly, the principle has stipulated that I must ensure that you complete your courses, or I will fail the year with you. So let's begin."

He looked at my exasperated expression and laughed. "I hate to break it to you, Shorty, but you are going to be disappointed. I do not study, and I do not care if you fail or pass the year." I scowled. Getting frustrated and shouting at him is not going to get me anywhere, I had to get him where it hurts.

"All right, if that’s how you want it, fine. If you don’t want to learn, then don’t. If you want to fail this year and shame your family name in history by being the first ‘Ayrton’ in your family to fail in a year, be my guest! And since you don't care about your future, let’s talk about that bruise I saw the other day when you backed me into a corner or why you haven’t been going to school due to a cold we both know you didn’t have." I began gathering and packing up my belongings as he sat on his bed.

"Listen Oliver, I don’t want to be here, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want any attention or help from a nerd either. I’ll leave if you want me to, I won’t ask you to listen like all the other gossipy girls at school would. I’m here because you’re in need of my help in your classes, and I’ve worked hard to get into this class, and won't have some spoiled guy make me fail. If you’re not interested, I’ll leave, and you won't hear from me again. We'll then see how far this mindset and ego can push you! I would like to know what the successful Ryker Ayrton would have to say about his son's brilliant concept." I was about to exit his room, but my wrist was clamped firmly in place.

"Please don't leave, Shorty. I glared at him and trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "I'm sorry, Alexandra, can we please talk somewhere else? I asked. I looked at him, took a deep breath, "Fine, where are we going? I'll go with you." I followed him, and we slipped past the woman who was receiving a massage in the sitting room. He directed me to a large garden, which the maids appeared to be taking care of on the farthest side.

He sat down on a bench and I sat down beside him. I asked, "What do you want to tell me, Oliver? I have somewhere to be in a few minutes." He glanced down at the ground, his hands resting on his knees. "Listen, Shorty," he said, glancing up at me to see if I was going to get angry, "I apologize for all the inconvenience I've caused you throughout the prior year and this year. You didn't deserve it, and I'm so sorry." He stammered. I let it go, distracted by yet another bruise I had just noticed.

I was in shock. He apologized, and to me, of all people. I drew a deep breath and looked at him, still staring at the ground. "Why do you always bully others? Especially me? I've never bothered you at all. I didn't even know who you are until you started bothering me.” He raised his face and looked off into the distance. His eyes narrowed as he tried to suppress what seemed impossible for the brilliant Oliver: ‘Tears.’

"I understand that he does not wish to discuss the matter. If you do not wish to discuss it, then do not discuss it. I also apologize for the incident that occurred in class. I did not mean to say anything that would be too painful for you. I understand that things may not be going well and that you may wish to remain in your dormitory. However, I am here to assist you in making something of your life. You are from a wealthy background, which allows you to take advantage of any opportunity. You have opportunities that most students at our school would not be able to take advantage of. However, you are not taking full advantage of them. Please let me know if you wish to change your mind tomorrow. I would be more than willing to assist you if you wish to do so." Oliver looked up at me and smiled weakly.

We returned to his residence and I collected the rest of my things. I presented him with a sticky note containing my telephone number. The note stated, "if you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to text me, and we can call or talk for a while." I smiled, and he returned my smile with a faint smile. He then offered to accompany me out of the house, which I accepted.

We exited his bedroom and proceeded down the stairs. As we started to make out the majority of the living area, I caught a glimpse of a formidable figure. His hair had been carefully arranged, and his suit had been custom-tailored to his specifications. The black pointed shoes he was wearing were as shiny as a crystal. He was carrying a briefcase in one hand, and was in the company of the Canadian women, who was now wearing a short, sophisticated black cocktail dress.

Upon reaching the floor, I noticed Oliver was trembling slightly. I remained silent, determined to observe what would happen next. The woman, whose name I still did not know, pointed her finger at us. A tall, well-groomed man approached, and I assumed it to be Oliver's father. I extended my hand to shake his, and he grudgingly took it. He regarded me for a moment before inquiring, "Who are you? My son did not inform me of you coming over."

I gave him a stern look and said, "I am Alexandra Sir, Oliver's Project Partner and Study Partner. I simply came to assist him with his homework and any assignments he may have missed in the past few weeks."  Oliver's father then turned to him and spoke through gritted teeth, "You have a devoted partner, son."  Oliver glanced across the room and stammered, "Yes, Father, she is."

I was perplexed as to why his father was speaking to him and directing his gaze at him in such a manner. I looked over at the woman, who was seated on the sofa with her phone in her hand, her legs crossed. She appeared to be oblivious to any unusual activity in the household. Memories of her complaining and wishing that Oliver should be conscripted into the military returned to my mind. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was past ten o'clock, and I was required to leave. Asking Oliver's father to take his gaze away from Oliver, I said, "I'm sorry I don't have much time to sit and chat, but I need to get home before it's too late." I smiled at Oliver and was accompanied by a maid to the front door.

.............................................

As I made my way back to my residence, I found myself reflecting on Oliver's behaviour towards his father. His lack of vocalization, the way he cowered and avoided looking his father in the eye, was not the Oliver I had come to know. I fluffed my pillow before sitting down on my bed. I opened my cell phone to check for messages from Oliver, when the double door to my room opened, and I paced my cell phone on my night stand, smiling at my two younger sisters. Amber, the younger twin, spoke first, saying, "Alexa, Olivia's here."   Before I could reply, Olivia burst into my room, asking, "Alexa, why haven't you responded to my calls? I've been at the door for 15 minutes." I put away my phone, a smug smile on my face. "I wanted some quiet, can you blame me?" She shot a playful look at me and tackled me.

My cousin Olivia Shards and her mother Emma Shards are the only living relatives of mine in the country. Since I was 14 years old, I have been living alone with my sisters, Amanda and Amber, for the majority of the year. My aunt would visit on a monthly basis to ensure that we had all the necessary amenities and were in good health. At times, my cousin, Olivia, would accompany her mother and occasionally stay with us to assist with the twins. At the time, I took on the responsibility of taking care of my sisters and practically raising them while my parents were away. Why should I, a young girl, take on such a responsibility? Our mother is a scientist and our father is an international lawyer, which requires both of them to work in multiple countries. I did not want any outsider to take care of us or come too close to my two sisters, especially considering that my sister, Amanda, is not as healthy and prone to illness.

Olivia has always assisted me in looking after my sisters, particularly Amanda. She is the oldest amoungs the twins and was fragile from birth, as she did not receive the same nourishment as Amber in the womb. This and a few other complications caused her to contract a cold a few days after birth. Her body cannot tolerate too much pressure or a very severe illness, thus requiring her to be constantly monitored and cared for. However, Amanda is a strong individual. She has fought through the cold and all other illnesses that have come her way. I know that she is strong, but that does not mean that I will not check in on her and nurture her. After all, she is my younger sister.

Once Amanda and Amber had been placed in their respective beds for the night, Olivia and I sat down to enjoy some snacks and watch a film. After thirty minutes had passed, I continued to check my phone for a response from Oliver, hoping that he had at least gone over some of the material he had missed. However, there was no response. I removed my phone case and retrieved a sticky note with Oliver's name and phone number, adding it to my contact list.

There was no response, and I was about to write again, inquiring about the incident involving his father, when I began to feel that someone was staring at me. I turned to find Olivia had paused the film, and she had asked, "What's going on, Alexa?" I shook my head, putting my phone away. "Nothing." She persisted, so I told her about the events of the preceding week.