The rich girl’s distraction from her shitty father.
The security for a professor I don’t know at all.
My mind wanders off.
El and I have been hanging out the past two weeks, and we basically used them getting high and have sex on that high. Sometimes for hours, if not days. We didn’t get out of bed for the entire last weekend. I feel as if I caught up with years of lesbian sex in the past two weeks, and it changed me. I feel different. So much more…sophisticated.
I learned so much about what I like and dislike, and El, who is a sex addict, gave me the room to just try me out. And it feels good. Knowing things about me.
Or it could be the drugs. The drugs that make me feel above everything. I don’t know, I don’t care. It feels way too good not to do it.
I catch myself staring into nothingness and force myself to listen to the lecture for a moment.
What the professor talks about is nothing I haven’t already heard of or read about. I mean, after all, I held a master’s in Criminology, it’s not that I didn’t learn a shitton of stuff.
So instead of listening, I watch her. Watch her move. The way her eyes light up whenever she talks about a topic she is particularly interested in. I study her clues, her patterns. It is quite illuminating.
Somehow, it brings me joy to watch her.
Jane has medium-long hair that reaches just to her shoulders. A dark, natural auburn-copper hair and wears a simple blouse and slippers. Her entire appearance is focused on simplicity and not drawing too much attention, almost the same aim I had, but with her, it is different. She knows who she is, or at least she pretends to.
Deep down, she seems to be insecure. My guess is that she might not pick up all the social cues, which is probably why she is so interested in the human mind and the neuroscience behind it, something I can relate to.
I didn’t think I’d ever say that, but the way she talks about brain chemistry right now is quite hot. She gets so confident, so elated. She burns for it, and it draws my interest.
And then, everything changes.
The door to the room opens.
It’s not far from where I sit on my chair at the end of a row.
I register it immediately, it’s something I might never get out of my system, because I always had to be on edge in my past life. Needed to be able to leave fast and defend quickly.
A man steps. He’s probably in his forties, with a beard and a balding hairline. And his eyes?—
My body tenses immediately. It knows the man means trouble. The way he holds himself. The way he looks.
Jane doesn’t register him; she is so immersed in her topic, but I do.
I see his movement.
His looks.
The anger.
The entitlement.
The world around me freezes as I jump up.
Run towards him.
His outstretched arm rises, pointing directly at Jane.
“DOWN! GUN!” I scream as I lounge myself at the man.
I was trained for this. My father trained me since I was six years old on how to defend myself, how to overpower someone with a gun, how to fight, and how to navigate situations under stress and threat to life. So I act like I have been trained to.
A shot resounds through my ears as I push the man into the wall and hit down the gun arm.
