Bridge Of Solitude

She was late for the class as expected, but she was excused on account of her braced ankle.

Lucky her!

The afternoon classes passed by uneventfully and she walked out of the college gates, without running into Jacob again, or the three from her personal cheer squad. Maybe they were all busy buzzing around Tyler, listening to their heroic tales and scorning Arthur.

Speaking of Arthur, Margaret didn't see her partner all day, so maybe he really was not there today.

- -

The next day started with a bang too. Or more accurately, it started with another unexpected visit to the university.

If it was Tyler yesterday, making a grand entrance with his head bandaged – today it was his father, James Farrell making his presence known in the college. And he did not look happy, at all. According to the sources, he went straight into the Dean's office and was there for a good while.

It does not take a genius to know he was here because of his precious son's injuries, however fake they may be. And despite the rumors and stories flying around, once again today, Mr. Arthur Bridge was unavailable for comment. He sure has a great timing.

Margaret decided to stop wondering about the sleepy soul and spent her time in classes like the good student she was. For the following few days she decided to be on red alert all the time and did everything she could to avoid Jacob. She even ate her homemade, mom-made lunches in restroom to stay away from him. She couldn't risk going to cafeteria again after their previous 'meeting'; and it was easy to find her in empty classrooms, so bathroom was her only safe haven. For one thing, the university maintains the bathrooms very well, they were always clean and odorless.

So far, she managed to survive Jacob as she was going from one class to another, without spending much time outside or in the halls. As long as she was under a teacher's watch and in the class room, she was in the safe zone.

Margaret didn't know how long she could avoid him; and all this sneaking around was putting a lot of strain on her ankle. No wonder she could feel the throbbing through the brace.

She was tired as it was, and Mitchell and minions made every effort to 'cheer' her up. But it's too bad that Margaret wasn't very fond of their idea of fun.

Today, in a hurry she made the mistake of using her locker and they didn't miss the chance to steal her stuff again. This time it was only one textbook, but since it was an expensive material and it was a book – she had to go save it.

After she solved another lame riddle and reached the location, she noticed her book stuck in the branches of a huge tree. As she couldn't find anything to pull it down, she had no choice but to climb the tree with a braced ankle.

She didn't know how she managed to scale the tree, she just amused herself by thanking her extraordinary fitness and determination. But after the heavy laborious task, she was nearly in tears, not because of the searing pain in her ankle or her mussed up hair, but because of the state her book was in. It was all torn and tattered as if it was thrown around several times. She could easily tell that it was her tormentors' doing; they must've thrown the book into the tree several times until it stuck there.

She scrambled herself to the last class of the day and Mrs. Morris decided to let it be a free hour as there were barely anybody present.

Margaret took this chance to rest and dropped her head on the desk, as she breathed out her tiredness.

She mentally crossed another day on the calendar as she wondered how much longer she could hold on for. Margaret knew she was making the situation worse by running away, but she was already in the jungle and lost her way back. She can only move forward, hoping she would find a way out before she gets hunted down.

Margaret went home exhausted and aching all over. She slept for four hours straight until her mom had to wake her up for dinner. She put on a smile for her sake even though she just wanted to cry in her embrace.

Margaret doesn't want to bother her mom with her problems, she already has a lot to deal with. Her mother usually spends all her waking hours working in the office or at home and still manages to hide her own grief to cheer up Margaret. In a way, they were both staying strong for each other, because that's the only way they could move forward.

And Margaret was a strong girl – she wouldn't let anyone get the best of her or she couldn't call herself the daughter of Richard Laurence, the brave hero.

The REAL hero.

- -

When Friday morning came, Margaret was so tired, she literally sleepwalked to the university. She could've stayed home but what would that accomplish? She certainly wouldn't rest, because whenever she was home alone, she would be too busy crying, grieving. So she would rather drag herself to university and let others torture her.

But she argues she was not a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t.

Two classes in and she was already regretting her decision. But to her relief, she had the third period free so she was walking in the halls, searching for a secluded corner where she could hole up and relax for a while. But what she found instead was the one person who was MIA for the last three days.

Arthur.

He was marching along the hall in a rather fast pace compared to his usual casual stroll.

But what shocked Margaret more was the palpable aura around him. He had light stubble around his jaw and his face was rid of the lazy bored look. His brows were knit into a tight frown and his half-closed, sleepy eyes were glowing with a rare emotion.

Anger? No, it was more than that. It was rage. He appeared to be a caged animal trying to break free of his restraints.

Oh boy, was this the prelude to a bigger storm?