Anna

A dozen paces out of Mr. Collins’ classroom and down the hall, Anna snapped the fingers on her left hand and time resumed inside the classroom she had just quit, leaving a host of students baffled by what seemed to them to be the sudden disappearance of their teacher right in front of their very eyes.

Looking down at the tiny figure curled up in her hand, she paused to open her purse and deposit his tiny little body inside.

In her state, school seemed an entirely different world now, like she could feel everyone, sense their feelings. She found by drowning out all of the background noise, she could narrow her focus.

“Miss Smith? Aren’t you supposed to be class?” asked the male voice from behind her.

She didn’t need to turn to know the identity of the speaker, it was Mr. Halton, vice principal filling in for the absent Don Donaldson. She turned and smiled, tilting her head to one side.

“Which class are you supposed to be in?” he asked, tone warm and friendly. He was genuine, she could feel it. There was little duplicity or deceit in him.

“Mrs. Pembry’s class,” she replied sweetly.

He smiled, “The off you go, no malingering in the hallway,” he said, nodding down the hall.

Walking down the corridor, a smile still on her face, she stopped outside the door to Mrs. Pembry’s room.

The aged teacher stopped her drone and looked over, motioning Anna inward with a gesture.

Stepping in Anna nodded, taking her seat, glancing to her left to look at Valen. He looked back, a questioning expression on his face quickly replaced by a lopsided grin. She felt a stab of desire in the center of her pleasure. At this proximity, with her senses attuned to him, she could feel something profound in him. He loved her. The pureness of it was intoxicating as she focused on it, nearly swooning.

“Everything okay?” he whispered, narrowing his eyes.

Impulse to take him barely restrained, she smiled serenely and nodded slowly. She wanted him so bad.

“Where’s Veronica?” he asked, looking passed her to the empty desk on her other side.

“Mr. Dance, perhaps you could explain why it is you have taken it upon yourself to disrupt the class?” Mrs. Pembry asked, placing her hands on her fleshy hips.

Valen straightened up, “Sorry Mrs. Pembry,” he said contritely.

Student duly admonished, the teacher continued with her dry monotone lesson. For Anna listening to the teacher prattle on she knew she understood the purpose of the lesson, the knowledge was already hers. There was nothing more the aging teacher could impart. Her dry monotone deliver did serve as a distraction from the burgeoning fire she was feeling within her.

The buzzer rang, she eased out of her desk and rose to standing. Looking around the class, she frowned, all of the other students seemed to be moving at only three quarter speed, including Valen. The tall youth moved down his aisle of desk and lingered at the door, turning back to look at her.

Gliding down the row of desks, almost seeming to hover as she moved to join him, she leaned into him, inhaling the natural scent coming off his youthful body.

“You seem friendly,” he mumbled, before his entire body seemed to stiffen defensively.

“Hey scarred cunt,” said the harsh voice of Trent Davis in a confrontational tone from almost directly behind her.

She turned, frowning, eyes drifting down to the dressing over his stitched wrist.

“You better watch your mouth,” Valen snarled, pushing Anna slightly to the side.

“Shut the fuck up Daddy’s girl,” snorted Trent belligerent.

Anna put her hand on Valen’s chest, feeling her animosity for Trent percolate to the surface of her consciousness. She became keenly aware of how sensitive her perception was, how all of her emotions were enhanced, not just desire, but happiness, anger, everything.

“Nobody has heard from Caleb or Vincent in a while. What did you do to them? Make them slit their wrists too you witch?” he barked out, voice loud.

A hush fell over the students close enough to hear.

Someone sniggered, “Scar baby.”

She shook her head, “No,” she replied, eyes seeking the crowd to locate the speaker of the jibe. Paul Redding. She smiled and turned back to Trent, taking a step closer. He stank of arrogance and other sour scents.

“Where are they then?” he demanded, holding his arms out.

She paused, pulling up the front of her shirt to reveal her unblemished tummy, “Here,” she said, touching it with the fingertips of her other hand.

Trent’s gaze travelled down, frowning when he saw he undamaged skin. “The fuck?”

Leaning in close, inches from his face, she grinned, “I used them and consumed them, digested anything that was worth redeeming in them and shit out what was left,” she whispered, bringing a hand up and touching Trent’s face.

“Fucking psycho, what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, stepping back and bringing a hand to his face where she had touched him.

Her eyes grew bright, but cold, like an alpine glacial lake, “You are mine now Trent, and soon you shall be inside of me,” she said.

He snorted, “Did everyone hear that?” he chuckled, looking around only to be met by the confused expression on the faces of those nearest him.

“Hear what?” Paul asked, shrugging.

Trent pointed at her, “She said she consumed Caleb and Vincent and that she was going to do the same to me,” he said, nodding.

Paul shook his head, other students looked confused. “When?” he asked.

“Just now, like just right now,” he answered.

“Um, all she said was no,” Paul said, eyes narrowing.

Anna smiled and turned back to Valen, “Walk me to my locker?” she asked, looking up at him.

Trent shook his head. Was she fucking with him right now? He knew what he heard. “This isn’t over Scar Baby,” he yelled.

Pausing, she turned back to look at Trent and smile, “I know,” she replied, sucking her lower lip into her mouth before once more turning away and heading toward her locker.