Free The Mill River Recluse by Darcie Chan

who encounters it.”
    Mary stopped reading to look over at Mr. Snee. The teacher had been watching her intently. She felt again his hot breath on her neck, the suffocating pain of him pressing on her and in her. Her hands began to shake. She gazed from student to student, from one face to another, each frowning at her, or smirking, or smiling nervously. She dropped her gaze and focused on the floor. With a start, she realized that she had lain precisely where she now stood, struggling and screaming into Mr. Snee’s large hand clamped over her mouth. She gasped as the room began to spin.
    For the first time, she’d felt the icy fist of anxiety closing around her stomach. From somewhere in the room, she heard Mr. Snee’s voice asking, “Miss Hayes? Is there a problem, Miss Hayes?” But at that point, she had cared only about getting out of the classroom, away from the raw memory of violation reflected in the taunting eyes of her teacher.
    “I have to leave,” she said, and burst out of the classroom. She remembered turning left and sprinting down the hallway, past the lockers and closed doors of other classrooms. She needed to be alone, in a dark place, where no one could hurt her again.
    At the end of the hallway, she’d frantically turned the doorknob on the janitor’s closet. There, among the mops and brooms and buckets, she felt safe. The pungent odors of the cleaning solutions masked the smell of her own fear, while the darkness protected her from seeing anything else that might upset her. She cried then, muffling her sobs with her hands and feeling the warmth of her tears on her fingers.
    It had taken them nearly an hour to find her. The school called her father, who rushed over to pick her up. She would never be able to forget the tortured expression on her father’s face once she finally revealed what had happened. She’d had no way of knowing, though, that the panic that had driven her from Mr. Snee’s classroom had taken root and would force her to suffer through fits of fearful agony for the rest of her life.
    ~~~
    Patrick walked up the footpath, reviewing a plan in his head. Tonight he would begin in earnest the process of acquiring Mary. She was the final piece in the puzzle—the last thing he needed before he could ascend to his rightful place in society. He knocked on the door of the old house, and Mr. Hayes opened it.
    “Good evening, Mr. Hayes,” Patrick said. “Is Mary ready?”
    “Hello, Patrick, come in. I think she’s almost ready, ‘least she was a few minutes ago. I’ll go up an’ check, though. Why don’ you have a seat for a minute?” He motioned toward a brown, moth-eaten davenport.
    “Of course,” Patrick said. The thought of his suit touching that upholstery displeased him, but he did as he was asked. Mr. Hayes smiled, then turned and practically ran up the stairs. He found Mary on the bed, curled into a fetal position.
    “Mary! Mary, he’s here. What’s wrong?” he said, bending over her.
    “Papa, I can’t go with him. I feel sick. Please tell him for me.”
    “Mary, I thought you were goin’ to be all right with this. You were so excited when you told me about it earlier, an’ he really cares about you, you know.” He paused. “Mary, you’re nineteen years old, an’ you can’t go on like this. You need to be with other people, especially people your own age. I know you like Patrick. You went ridin’ with him all summer. You should spend more time with him. I’m not goin’ to be here forever, an’ you can’t be by yourself for the rest of your life.”
    Mary remained motionless on the bed.
    Mr. Hayes sighed. “Patrick’ll be disappointed, you know. I’ll tell him you’re not able to go, but I wish you would try, Mary. You know I only want the best for you,” he said, and went back downstairs.
    Patrick jumped to his feet as Mr. Hayes reached the bottom of the stairway. He suspected that getting Mary out of the house would be difficult, and one look at