♱ martin edwards | teddy bear 🧸

I remember the first time he had talked to me in the hallway of college. His stare was giving me chills.

“You.” he said, nudging his head upwards to me, walking over with his tall legs. He seemed to tower above everyone with his tall frame.

I stopped in my tracks, my eyes landing on his face. His brows were slightly furrowed, the hazel pebbles sitting on his pale face mustering me with uncomfortable sharpness

“You think you can steal my cigarettes like that and I wouldn’t give a shit?” he added. Martin hadn’t raised his voice once, which gave me way more chills as if he’d just screamed at me. I had no idea what to do. Never have I touched a cigarette before, and especially not from a troubled guy like him.

He wasn’t exactly famous at college, but everyone knew not to mess with Martin Edwards. Everyone kept their good distance to him. Thinking about it now, I feel kind of sorry for him. But back then I was the same, very uninterested in any conversation with a scary guy like him.

After he almost shoved me against the lockers when I didn’t answer, I finally managed to open my mouth. His hands fumbled with the seam of his jeans pocket, as I noticed the chipped black nail polish.

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about” I gave back, looking everywhere but his face.

I agree, our first meeting wasn’t exactly the best. And honestly I have no idea how we kept talking after. But something about him drew me in, and slowly we grew from lingering glances in the hallway to a rushed greeting. When he started recommending bands to listen and I gave him books to read to take his mind off dealing drugs illegally behind the schools main building, I grew to notice the small things about him.

That besides the cold glare, there was a softness in his eyes. The way he made sure to put on new nail polish every few weeks. The way he actually considered reading my books and gave them back with little sticky notes.

Eventually we couldn’t help falling for each other.

Dating him felt easy at first. He was a guy who knew how to loosen a situation, he had great humour and a gorgeous laugh too. Whenever I was in trouble he knew how to talk me out of it.

But to that, he was careful. More than that, he was as possessive as it could get. It started with small messages to know about my day.

’Where you at?’ ; ‘When do you get home?’

Sweet messages turned into worried ones anytime I went out without him.

’Make sure to send me your location’ ; ‘Who’ll be there?’

I needed to get my mind off the growing separation anxiety of his. I needed to go out on my own. And so I did. I took my girlfriends from college and we went to one of those stupid, messy college parties.

Even though I had told Martin, I could feel my phone buzz every few minutes. I sighed, gulping down another glass of whatever mixture my friend made me.

It didn’t take long until my knees got wobbly and I started to see blurry. Until i had fully processed what happened, I was already in the bed of one of my girlfriends.

But Martin had no idea. My phone was off, and he was at home, going crazy. Until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He knew this was probably a crazy thing to do, but he didn’t care anymore. He moved through his room, taking the pocket knife from his bedside table into his jeans pocket.

When he arrived again the party, his face had shifted into a pale, cold stare. He must’ve looked insane, almost. From outside, he scanned the house. When he moved through the crowd of dancing, sweating people, his heart pounded in his throat.

When he couldn’t endure to search for her any longer, he reached out for the next best person passing by, grabbing the poor guy by his shirt and pulled him in.

“Where is she?”

He asked. Loud and clear, leaving no space for any misunderstandings. His eyes burned into the other guys face as he stared down at him.

The drunken college student was stunned, frozen in place as he searched for something to say in his tipsy state.

“I asked you a fucking question”

Martin added, tucking at his collar once again. His hand reached down to pull out the pocket knife of his jeans.

“I’m not afraid to use this you know”