Tim’s cell was lit from above by the harsh spotlights that bounced over his bound form. Jacob zoomed in on his new toy and Tim looked down the lens of the camera, his sad and confused eyes staring down the lens into the eyes of his captor. He couldn’t yet see his owner. He didn’t know who had imprisoned him yet. He sat on the cold stone floor of his cell, dressed only in his flimsy t-shirt and tight white CKs. Barefoot. Shivering slightly, perhaps from the cold of his windowless cell or perhaps from fear. Jacob’s heart pounded in delight at the misery in those eyes. The confusion. The utter lack of comprehension of what had happened to Mr Popular. He sat hunched over, arms wrapped around his bare muscular legs. The way he sat in the middle of his circular cell suggested he had already discovered the electric charge in those iron bars.So vulnerable. So miserable. So confused. Poor Tim. Maybe he was beginning to realise he wasn’t the superstar he thought he was. Soon he. I tell her the version that skips reconciling withmy dad and having sex with our boss. I tell her about the wedding, thegorgeous bride and happy bridesmaids. I tell her about my quiet night inas a domestic goddess. I tell her about the gym. "How was yours?" Ifinish, hoping she won't ask follow up questions."Do you remember Nick?" she asks blushing."From last week? The divorcee?" We had a date," she smiles, and I notice for the first time she has thecutest dimples."Aw honey," I gush. "How was it. Dish!" You first! Tell me about your sexy dinner," she nudges me, just as thefirst bell goes off. "Smoke at recess? I want details!" I giggle andgive her a hug and we both speed off our separate ways.I considered not coming into school. I considered running away. But I'mnot running away any more. I'm Ellen Bennet. Schoolteacher. I'm fallinginto a rhythm now, happy that my lesson plans are not too crazy, andthat the kids just expected me to know what I'm doing without meactually having to know.
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