Page 2 of Claiming Kenna

“You are evil. See you tonight bitch,” I muttered then jumped in my cab more than ready to climb into my bed and sleep. Showering can wait, I decided.

Thealarmoffmyphone pounded through my head causing me to swipe the pillow from beside me and stuff it over my head hoping it would give me some reprieve. “Ahhhh ok!” I yelled out loud to my persistent phone and threw the pillow across my bed. I sat up and patted my hand around my bed searching for the hard rectangle, gripping it hard in frustration when my hand found it. I turned my alarm off and rolled out of bed. There was no bounce in my step today. I was more an old aged sloth. I sat on the edge of my old bed looking out towards my study station and small apartment window. I could see snow gathering on the wooden frame outside and sighed. Two more weeks of school for me then I was on holiday. Three weeks till I went home to see mum and my step brother and celebrate Christmas.

I stood slowly, bones clicking in protest and started my morning routine of flicking the jug on, having a quick shower, dressing and then downing an extra strong instant coffee and running to university. I usually slid through the classroom door ten minutes late and got a range of looks from my fellow students. It was usually a spread of angry, eye rolling typical Kenna looks, pity and happy finally she made it from my few friends.

After showering I slipped on some faded blue skinny jeans, put on an oversized button up white shirt, pulled my puffer jacket over top and tugged a mustard colored beanie down over my still slightly damp hair. I drank my coffee in record time and flew out the door with an apple in my hand for breakfast.

University was a few blocks away and nine times out of ten I ran the entire way. I caught a bus on the odd occasion when the money was available. My lungs were burning the entire time from a mixture of the icy temperatures outside and being unfit. I could walk for hours but running was never my forte even if I did it most mornings now. I had no urge to sign for the New York Marathon. I pushed open the classroom door and stumbled through awkwardly, strands of hair covering half my face and snow still scattered over my puffer jacket. I was breathing loudly and ignored the daggers that were getting mentally thrown my way from half the class. This morning we were in Psychology which was my least favorite class. Delving into neurological conditions and PTSD when my own life was a complete cluster fuck was hard to stomach.

“Nice of you to join us…..?” A deep voice laced with an English accent commented from the front of the room. I stopped mid step while I was heading to my usual seat in the back of the class. I turned my head and took in a foreign teacher standing at the front of the room by the large oak desk. I didn’t recognise his face but what a face it was. He had a strong jaw that had a scattering of stubble over it and there was peppered grey through the stubble and his short brunette hair on his head. He had light blue eyes and wore a button up crisp white dress shirt that was rolled at the sleeve showing toned, muscular forearms.

I shook my head slightly clearing my thoughts and my cheeks blushed pink from catching myself out at checking out my teacher.

“Ah hi, sorry I am late,” I muttered and quickly paced to the back of the classroom and slid into my seat.

“What’s your name? So I can mark you as present,” his voice floated to the back of the room. “Kenna.” I squeaked and looked up at him from my desk.

“Nice to have you in class Kenna. I am Mr Brown, but you can call me Cullen. I am the fill in teacher for the rest of the semester.” Cullen said, then started writing words on the white board.

“What was that?” My classmate, Claire, asked me in a hushed tone and adjusted her glasses.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I insisted while pulling my books from my bag and feeling embarrassed.

“He is old enough to be your dad,” she observed and giggled with her sleeve over her mouth. Her whole body shook from her silent laughter.

“He is not! My dad is way older,” I bit out.

“So you do think he is hot,” she teased me.

“I never said that. Just corrected your earlier statement,” I rolled my eyes trying to downplay it.

“So class, today we are taking a deep plunge into our private lives,” Cullen announced. The room fell silent and my eyes darted around the classroom. No one knew about my home life and that I had a dad in jail. They judged me enough for being the quiet girl that never partied with them and refused to spend a few dollars to catch public transport. I sunk back into my seat a little feeling like the air had just been snatched out of my lungs.

“Just kidding. But everyones reactions were priceless. I think there are some in here with skeletons in their closets. By the end of your four years of study, you should be able to pick out those reactions from a crowd. Today we will be looking more into PTSD related crimes and there will be an essay due in one week on this which makes up some of your end of year marks.” He remarked and scanned the room. Eyes lingering on me for just a moment longer.Or was that me being hopeful?

For the next hour the entire class picked apart two old cases where the criminals had traumatic pasts and had been diagnosed with PTSD. I was in my comfort zone sitting in the back quietly listening and making notes. Until Cullen started walking around the class. He was stopping by selected students’ desks and reading over their shoulders to see what they had written so far.

Cullen rounded the room and came to the back behind Claire and I. He read through some of Claires' and smiled at her appreciatively. I made an attempt to cover my page nonchalantly but he was quick and plucked my text book up from under my arm. My cheeks flushed. I hated anyone reading my work. I stole a glance up to Cullen’s face while he was reading over my page and took a few moments to study his face more closely. As if trying to confirm more to myself than anything, I decided he was much younger then my father because his eyes and forehead didn’t hold the deep wrinkles my father did. Cullen’s skin was smooth aside from his stubble.Nope no daddy issues here.

“Very good Kenna,” he praised and handed my book back to me. “Thanks,” I spoke quickly and dropped my shoulders, looking back down at my desk. The way he said my name sent shivers down my spine and did things to my body that I had never had the privilege of experiencing before. Cullen sauntered back to the front of the classroom and dismissed everyone. I didn’t waste any time and within seconds I was throwing my things into my backpack ready to be out of that room. Claire caught up to me and matched my fast steps.

“Are you ok?” Claire asked me, giving me side eye.

“Yeah I am ok, just tired. I worked last night and have to work again tonight,” letting out a yawn I had been holding in emphasizing my point. I should be proud of myself because I had got through the majority of the year running on empty but instead of being proud I just felt utterly mentally exhausted.

“You need a night off work. You should come for a drink with us tonight. It can be my shout,” Claire insisted.

“I can’t leave them short staffed and I need the money to cover my rent.” I grumbled. Claire was right. I did need a night off. I couldn’t keep this up for another four years. I could feel myself mentally and emotionally crumbling. Sleep deprivation will ultimately do that to someone.

Inearlycrawledthroughmy door that afternoon. I gave in and caught a bus home and now I was angry at myself for wasting the money. I was my own worst critic. I had work in two hours, so enough time for a power nap. I shimmied out of my jeans and kicked them across the floor and climbed into my bed in my panties and shirt, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. My usual pep talk of I have it better than a lot of people out there and I chose this life wasn’t working any longer.

I lay on my side dwelling on life’s issues when a small cardboard card caught my eye. The business card Crystal gave me was still sitting in the cup of my bra from where I dropped it to the floor at some ungodly hour this morning. I leaned down and picked it up, running my finger over the gold print. I chewed my bottom lip wondering if I could ever see myself getting paid to go on dates with strange men. I snickered to myself under my breath. That would be a solid no. I placed the card on my small wicker bedside table not sparing it another thought. I succumbed to my heavy eyelids and slept like the dead.

An hour and a half later I was scrambling around the apartment trying to find clean socks so I could force my feet into my black ankle boots that were made to look good not feel good. I inhaled some cheese on toast and a lukewarm coffee and paced out the door, shutting the door firmly behind me. As I took the tattered stairs two at a time I put my air pods in and turned up fast dance music on my phone to wake me up. I weaved through the crowds of people that have seemed to have caught the Christmas zombie virus. I called it a zombie virus because shoppers walk around aimlessly with armfuls of shopping bags banging into each other saying ‘sorry’ to each other over and over again.

Nearing work I took my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and frowned deeply when I saw a message from Millie. She wasn’t coming in because her mum needed help tonight getting to a meeting. It diminished my mood a little but I silently chided myself for thinking so selfishly. Millie was one of the most selfless people I knew. I slipped my phone back away and the night club came into view.

“Hey my favorite little bar tender,” Buster greeted me. “Hi!” I replied stretching on my tip toes to give him a big hug.

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