Damaged Beyond Repair by Kashmira Kamat (KittyKash) (best short books to read TXT) 📗

I stopped by the cafeteria just so I could have a few sips of the poisonous coffee—again, the shitty poisonous coffee pulled my wrong strings and evoked a sense of déjà vu. Frustrated, I dumped the remains in the nearest dumpster. I was heading out of the cafeteria when I bumped into Chez who, I assumed was heading towards his art class.

"Hey." He waved at me with his index finger.

"Wait a second Romeo."

He stopped dead in his tracks. If he thought he was going to survive the Alana investigations, boy he was so wrong. Maybe he would survive the tsunami attack, not me.

"What did you say to Nina?"

His forehead formed a crease, "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Well, I hear you acted like a genuine dick towards her."

He snorted, "I don't know what you're talking about Alana. She's been acting strange. In fact she's been treating me like shit and I'm not sure why."

"What did you say to her?"

"That again?" he scratched his head with the back of his brush. "Last time I actually spoke with her, which was before she began to pull the 'your-not-visible-to-the-naked-eye' crap on me, it was after classes on Saturday. I showed her my new painting and she just flipped, said it was the last time she spoke with me."

Wait, what? I sucked at playing CSI, but I needed to know what the hell the deal was about.

"Just like that?" something smelled like deep shit.

"Yeah." he flexed those tired artistic muscles.

I pointed towards the large canvas he held, "that one's new?"

"Oh yeah." he turned the canvas around to show me and lifted a thin paper veil off it showcasing a beautiful painting, and supposedly the reason to get Nina mad.

"Was this the painting you showed to Nina?"

"Yeah." Chez said, proudly, "Wonderful isn't it? Ms. Lewis told me she wants to use this in the upcoming college exhibition. She said this one's the best. Cool, right?"

"Are you out of your fucking MIND?" he was taken aback by the intended venom in my words.

I glanced at the painting again, nothing wrong in it. It was indeed the best and totally art gallery worthy, but the pretty curvy woman on the bed, sans clothes with a single blanket covering her front was all kinds of Wrong.

"Who is she?"

"A woman."

"Who is the woman you shitface?"

"Like I would know, some woman called Lillian I met that other day."

"So now, your new hobby is to paint woman you sleep with, can't get any creative huh?"

He sighed, "I never slept with her, Lillian is a prostitute I paid to model for my painting. I don't see any offense in a beautiful woman, just look at her. Didn't Leonardo Di Caprio draw pretty naked woman in Titanic? No matter how many times we watched that movie you kept saying he was talented, then why criticise me?"

"Chez Simmons," he was testing my patience; I tapped my foot in hopes of decreasing my blood pressure. "Do you understand the difference between reel and real? If you don't, then I might as well, remind you. You are NO Leonardo Di Caprio, she is NO Kate Winslet and this is No freakin' Titanic. Get it?"

He spared me a confused glance, how much more thick could he get?

"What do you suggest I do?"

"Apologize to her."

He pushed his duffle bag over his large shoulders, "why exactly do I need to do that?"

"Because you've been acting like a douche."

Still clueless, he turned to leave—walked a few steps and stopped short, "Alana, are you getting expelled?"

I hadn't seen that one coming, "Believe me, I've been asking the question myself."

We parted ways without another word.

****

Five torturous days later, I was damn sure Rowan was on some serious 'Alana ditch-mode' during the time that I ate, slept, walked to university and back to the dorms—all I did was think and by the last hour of the fifth day, I wanted no more of this.

'I'll make everything right baby, I promise'

Those words kept haunting me day and night, where the hell was he?

The day Rowan disappeared behind the hellish doors of the Dean's office, it was the last time I saw him. He never turned up for his regular lectures, nor did I see him in his office. I called his cellphone just so I could hear his voice, even if it meant listening to the voice mail. Yeah! I know, I am starting to sound like a love sick bitch. The name plate that hung over his office was also removed, it felt like he never existed. Although I maintained a brave front, I was beginning to fall apart so I decided to do some research of my own.

I knocked the former Mr. Masters and the present Ms O'Hara's' office door.

"Come in."

I stepped in, and closed the door behind me, Ms O'Hara, the wannabe goth guitarist accidently turned mathematics teacher beamed at me, "so what brings you here, Alana?"

How do I do this, without arousing suspicion or getting my ass kicked?

"I'm just curious as to why Mr. Masters haven't been showing up lately."

"Blunt as ever, aren't you, Ms. Hayes?" Ms O'Hara said good naturedly, her eyes did a humorous dance. "Mr Rowan Masters has resigned."

Resigned.

Resigned?

The word kept ringing in my ear like a freakin' alarm bell.

I needed an ear bud, "excuse me?"

"He resigned from the job." a pause later she continued, "I'll be your new acting economics teacher until they find a replacement."

My breath got hitched in my throat, though I managed to ask. "Why?"

"I'm not aware of the details, Ms Hayes, but it's definitely not a forced decision, as far as what I've heard—Rowan was given a choice."

"I—I need to...get..going."

I stormed out of the office in a brewing rage; hoping that guy would be ready for some taekwondo kick on his ass. The situation was worth cutting class. Without any further ado I walked out of the university grounds and made my way towards the general direction of the Professors apartment.