Saved by the Hockey Star Haunted by the Professor

The Silent Girl and the Star

Kendra 

I keep my head down as Professor West hands back our papers. The familiar knot in my stomach tightens when I see the red ink covering most of my classmates' work. Mine comes back clean, with just one comment written in his neat handwriting across the top: "Exceptional work, Miss Hayes. See me after class."

My heart sinks.

"As you can see, most of you failed to grasp the basic concepts we've been discussing," Professor West announces to the lecture hall. His voice carries that tone teachers use when they're disappointed but trying not to show it. "However, one student truly understood the assignment."

Please don't say my name. Please don't..

"Miss Hayes, would you mind sharing your thesis with the class?"

Every head turns toward me. Thirty pairs of eyes, all staring. My cheeks burn as I shrink lower in my seat. "I... um..." The words stick in my throat like they always do when people look at me.

"Come now, don't be shy," Professor West says, walking closer to my desk. "Your paper on the psychological effects of isolation was brilliant. The way you described the protagonist's internal struggles..." He pauses right next to me, close enough that I can smell his coffee breath. "It was almost like you were writing from personal experience."

My stomach drops. The way he's looking at me makes my skin crawl. Not the proud look teachers usually give good students. Something else. Something that makes me want to disappear.

"Thank you," I whisper, not looking up from my desk.

"Miss Hayes has a natural talent for understanding the human psyche," he continues, his hand briefly touching the back of my chair. "It's rare to find such... depth in someone so young."

The clock on the wall shows 2:47 PM. Three more minutes until I can escape. I count each second, watching the minute hand move at what feels like half speed.

Finally, the bell rings. Students rush toward the door, chattering about weekend plans and upcoming exams. I take my time packing my bag, hoping Professor West will forget about wanting to see me. But when the last student leaves, he's still there, organizing papers at his desk.

"Miss Hayes? A moment, please."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before walking down to his desk. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Yes, about your paper." He leans back in his chair, studying me with those gray eyes that always seem to see too much. "And about your future. You have real potential, Kendra. May I call you Kendra?"

I nod because saying no feels impossible.

"Good. I've been teaching for fifteen years, and I rarely encounter students with your natural ability to tap into... darker emotions. Tell me, what inspired such raw honesty in your writing?"

The question hits me like a punch to the gut. Images flash through my mind – things I've worked so hard to forget. A basement room. Locked doors. Voices telling me no one would believe me even if I tried to tell.

"I... I just have a good imagination," I lie.

"Hmm." Professor West stands and walks around his desk, stopping just a little too close to where I'm standing. "I don't think it's imagination, Kendra. I think you understand pain in a way most people never will. That makes you special."

Special. The word makes me want to throw up. Someone else called me special once. Someone who hurt me in ways I'm still trying to heal from.

"I should go," I say, backing toward the door. "My next class.."

"Actually, I wanted to discuss something with you." He moves between me and the door. "I'm organizing a special study group for advanced students. Very selective. Very... intimate. Small groups, one-on-one mentoring. I think you'd benefit tremendously."

The way he says "intimate" makes my skin crawl. "I'm not really good with groups."

"Oh, but that's exactly why you need this, Kendra. You're far too isolated. A brilliant mind like yours shouldn't be wasted hiding in the shadows." He takes another step closer. "I could help you come out of your shell. Teach you things they don't cover in regular classes."

I need to leave. Now. But my feet feel glued to the floor.

"Professor West, I really.."

"Think about it," he interrupts. "We could meet in my office after hours. No other students around to make you nervous. Just you and me, exploring literature together. Doesn't that sound perfect?"

No. It sounds like a nightmare. It sounds like something that happened before, in another room with another man who said he was trying to help me.

"I have to go," I manage to say, finally finding my voice.

But as I reach for the door handle, Professor West's hand covers mine. His touch is warm and firm, keeping me from opening the door.

"Kendra," he says softly, his voice taking on a different tone. Possessive. Dangerous. "You know you belong to me, right?"

The world stops. Those words I've heard them before. In my nightmares. In the memories I've tried so hard to bury. My whole body starts shaking.

I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't..

Through the glass window in the office door, I see movement in the hallway. Someone's out there. A tall figure in a letter jacket, sweaty dark hair, intense eyes that seem to be looking right at us.

Axel Cross. The star quarterback. The guy every girl wants and every guy wants to be. He's supposed to be at practice. What's he doing here?

Our eyes meet through the glass, and something in his expression changes. His jaw tightens. His hands clench into fists at his sides.

He can see Professor West's hand on mine. He can see how scared I am.

He can see everything.

Professor West follows my gaze and quickly drops his hand, stepping back with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Think about my offer, Miss Hayes," he says, his voice returning to its normal professional tone. "I'll be in touch soon."

I grab my bag and rush toward the door, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure everyone in the building can hear it. As I push past Axel in the hallway, he grabs my arm gently.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice is different than I expected. Concerned instead of cocky.

But I can't handle any more questions. I can't handle anyone else touching me, even if they're trying to help.

"I'm fine," I lie, pulling away from him and running down the hall.

Behind me, I hear Axel call out, "Wait!" But I won't stop. I can't stop. Because I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all. And somehow, I know this is just the beginning…