Page 15 of Our Cracked Pieces
I was about to head to my calculus class when I rounded the south end of the history building and I saw Mr. Hostettler with his hand wrapped around Vanessa’s arm, pulling her around the back of the concession building.
Anger flared bright.
Never mind that he hated me and rode me unjustly during class. Never mind that a teacher never should be putting their hands on a student. Never mind that Mr. Hostettler was an asshole, plain and simple. Fuck all that. Vanessa was pregnant, and I wouldn’t let someone put their hands on her even if she weren’t.
Class forgotten, I ran down the string of lockers, and around the back of the interlocking hallways, until I was coming up on the east side of the concession building. That’s when I saw him pulling her into one of the utility rooms.
And she wasn’t fighting him.
Acid burned in the pit of my stomach, and my mind was desperately trying to deny the red flags of obviousness. Pushing back the rage that threatened to burst through, I made my way to the door, and testing the knob, it was unlocked.
As carefully and as quietly as I could, I opened the door and walked in. The sight that greeted me was of Vanessa and Mr. Hostettler in a heated standoff, and unfortunately for me, I could hear every word.
“I’m tired of waiting,” Vanessa screeched. “And now, because you haven’t left your wife, Lorcan thinks the baby is his.”
Her words were like a kick to the chest.
This fucking bitch.
“It’s not that easy,” Mr. Hostettler snapped at her. “You have no idea how difficult it is to get divorced.”
“Then maybe you should have thought about that before you started fucking one of your students,” Vanessa replied scathingly.
“Vanessa, that’s enough,” he hissed. “You act like I knew you weren’t on birth control.”
“I didn’t need to be,” she hissed back. “Lorcan is a condom fanatic. He never goes without wearing one, no matter what.”
“Good thing, too,” I said, hearing enough.
Vanessa jumped and gasped as they both whirled around at the sound of my voice. She looked aghast and he looked panicked.
“L…Lor…can,” she sputtered. “It’s…you don’t…”
Cold rage froze my blood. “Don’t,” I spat. “Just don’t.”
“Mr. Cavanaugh, you-”
Cold rage turned into a boil, and whatever he was about to was cut off as I took off straight for him. My fist slamming against his jaw, he toppled back, and I went with him.
“Lorcan!” Vanessa screamed, but fuck her.
My fists began raining down on Mr. Hostettler’s face, but once he regained his senses, the man finally started fighting back, and then it was on.
Vanessa’s screams in the background did nothing to cool the fire in my blood or my taste for revenge. This asshole knew Vanessa was my girlfriend, and all his bullshit these past few weeks finally made sense. He’d been riding my ass in class because he’d been fucking Vanessa’s.
“Lorcan! Paul!”
Fuck. Paul.
I wasn’t sure how long we fought for, but soon, I had his shirt in a death grip, my right fist wailing away at his face. There was blood everywhere, but I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, I hadn’t spilled enough of his blood.
It wasn’t until I felt a bunch of hands and arms wrapping around me, pulling me off Mr. Hostettler’s body, that I finally stopped. “Mr. Cavanaugh!”
It took a while for me to stop struggling, but when I finally did, and sanity came back into play, the room was crowded with teachers breaking up the fight, and students being nosey.
“What in the hell is going on here?!” Mr. Hilton, the principal, yelled. “Jesus Christ, Paul, are you okay?” Mr. Hostettler was busy trying to steady himself.
“Oh, my God…oh, my God,” Vanessa kept chanting, and she was lucky I abhorred violence against women.
