No! She stared into those blue ireful eyes, trembling like a cold hairless cat. “No… no please… please don’t hurt me.” He acquired a demented smirk like the way a disturbed English teacher would in the process of giving fails to his students. He slowly raised his arm up high choking his hatchet, with his trembling hand, feeling the leather cloth handle crackle. Resembling ways his school bullies were choking him by the throat, threatening him that if he got another A in an essay they would make his life a living hell. Now, he was making her life a living hell. He made a horrendous chuckle turning his face to blood color. And then…
He woke up in a sweat terrified at what just happened. The man got out of his bed and stepped towards his mirror. He took a glimpse at his reflection. His looks seemed as though he was deprived of life. The bags under his eyes, the dead body color of his skin suggested as though the devil just ripped his soul out from his weak body. He was overwhelmed in thoughts, completely bemused. How can such a peaceful and gentle man like him even think to do such a thing? Who was he was trying to kill? “Oh my… no, no it can’t be, oh my God it… it was Nellafar.” He looked at the ponderous countenance upon his face, “but she is my best student” he cried. The man just stood there overwhelmed with questions until his dog came and licked his leg. “Oh gee I’m late for work.”
Making it on time by the second, he opens the door for the children to come into his joyous classroom. “Good morning Mr. Yam.” He swiftly turns his head to her. He opens his frightened eyes wide in shock just like a deer would a split second before getting hit by a car. He was unable to produce an answer to greet her back; it was as though his brain and lungs were filled with his own blood. He watched her sit down at the far right side of the classroom and for some reason the mere sight of her exasperated him. He was mesmerized, petrified, and internally lost. Why was he getting this sudden urge of hatred toward her?

Without anything being said by Mr. Yam, the studious students handed in their narrative essays. After the bell rang, all the students left the classroom and he attacked the pile of essays, searching for Nellafars. As he read her essay he grew more and more wrathful after every sentence. It was breath taking on how stunning the essay was. The sentences would flow like flower pedals in a river. The metaphors were absolutely perfect in description. The conclusion gave a sense of fulfillment in the readers’ stomach. The essay roared in brilliance, and he burst into tears. He realized that he himself came nothing close to the talent Nellafar had. This fact, this reality made him furious.

He rushed out of his classroom without saying a word. He ran to his car wile looking in his surroundings just like a detrimental crook would wile running away from a cop. He, himself was running away from the old Mr. Yam, breaking away from a sealed shell filled with mythical illusions of him being an easygoing and gentle man. It all burst away, and he was now who he really should have been from the beginning. A totally new man was born, and he finally decided to do something he should have done a long time ago.

Arriving home, Mr. Yam went searching for his father’s old hatchet. As he found it, there finally emerged that iniquitous smirk on his face. He raced back to school to find who he was looking for.

And there she was, walking in the empty hallway, as she always did. Mr. Yam’s heart jumped up; because he knew what was coming next and the best part was that she didn’t. He jumped in front of her and gave her a look that was somewhat indescribable. He could feel the terror in her eyes. He grabbed her by the throat and pushed her to the lockers.

“Now Nellafar I had a chance to read your essay and might I say it was the best dam thing I’v ever read!” “It was outstanding but I do have some bad news my dear.” Her face was turning into a silver nickel color. “My dear Nellafar, your essay was a little too great, and in fact it reminds me of myself when I was your age. I could have achieved great things if I kept continuing to write.” “Unfortunately many people threatened me, and said that if I keep on writing, they will make my life a living hell.” She finally understood were he getting. “Now my dear, since I had to stop my one and only love and passion and become an English teacher…” “No, I would never agree to it” she cried. “Well then in that case…” He raised his arm up high, choking his hatchet, feeling the leather cloth handle in his sweaty hand. He made a horrendous chuckle turning his face to blood color. And then…