My dark Professor

14

Caspar

I throw another bunched-up paper in the bin. This time it falls right in. Travis would have a fit if he saw the missed ones on the ground. He would say I have terrible aim. He forgets that we all aren't athletic like him.

There's no need to guess what has me crumbled like the papers in the bin. It was obvious. Because who else has this much of an effect on me?

Oh, to be human. We were fools. Thinking we can fight our desires and impulses. We were fools for even attempting to fight them. In the end, they win. We give in.

I gave in and took what I wanted, but barely everything. Now I was back to square one, fighting myself.

She was like that one chapter I never wanted to part with. So I write and write until it exceeds the word count. That chapter explains everything I want to write in a book. Making all the others irrelevant.

I bang my head on the hard desk. Groaning out in frustration, not pain. I didn't feel the impact. I felt the tight web of emotions I couldn't control.

A loud shrill noise sends me away from my thoughts. My heart races, and I rush out without a second thought.
I take the steps two at a time and run to the kitchen where the noise comes from.

The sight I'm greeted with has my pulse speeding up. Betty was on the ground, hunched over a limp form. She calls out her name several times but doesn't get a response.

I stand there like an idiot. Fear has me freezing up. I snap out of it when I hear Betty scream again.

"Betty! What happened?"
I move her aside and go on my knees. Taking Lily's cold hands in mine. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth pursed. She looks so peaceful. Like she was sleeping. But I know she isn't. Not voluntarily.

"She fainted. I tried to get her to sit when she complained of dizziness, but she wouldn't. Oh, Lord. She wouldn't sit. She didn't listen. Oh Lord-"

"Can you give me some space!" I yell. I didn't want to yell at her, but her babbling wasn't helping.

"Lily. Lily." I tap her gently on the cheeks. She doesn't move. Not even a single muscle twitches.

"What was she doing before she passed out?"

Betty looks scared out of her mind. So I say softly, "It's alright. She's gonna be fine. Tell me, I need to know in order to help."

She dips her head.
"She was baking. She wanted to bake you a cake. I told her that it was unnecessary and that you already had your meals planned with me. But she wouldn't budge. She said she needed to make it for you and take it to you herself."

She wanted to bake me a cake. Me.
After everything I've done to her. I don't deserve her kindness.

"We all know the poor girl can't cook to save her life," Betty continues. "I told her it wasn't necessary. She insisted, so I let her."

I don't know how all of this relates to her current condition. How can baking make her pass out?
Unless the heat of the oven got to her.

"Was she leaning over the open oven?"

"Yes," Betty answers.

"Did she eat anything today?"

She shakes her head. "She skipped lunch because she wanted to get the cake done in time for your dinner."

She didn't eat, was stressed about getting a cake out of the oven in time, and was exposed to too much heat. Of course, she'll pass out.

I gingerly pick her up in my arms and stand with her.