It was Always You {MohsxxCarrica}

Some days are just the best, like yesterday not today. My key leaves the lock with a resounding click the bitch got stuck, It only takes twenty minutes to walk the half-mile from my house to work over a fucking hour limping through soaking wet streets, the sky is a deep, pure, robin's egg blue a charcoal ceiling spits rain from some twisted god right into my eyes, and best of all, I might enjoy my job a little bit the demon-children teenagers really make my life a living hell.

Today is NOT one of those days.

When I finally got to work over half an hour late, I had to rush immediately to the locker room to deal with a situation they said. There was no 'Here, pull up a chair- I know your leg is probably bothering you like it always does when it rains,' It was simply 'Go handle this shit because it's part of your pay grade.' That's what the bitch receptionist's attitude was anyway.

So that lead to me ripping apart two boys- boys. Like... Thirteen year old kids. The smaller one lay bleeding viciously on the ground after a tussle with another male over a foot taller than him. Whatever made them think it was a good idea to duke it out in the showers obviously didn't benefit either of them. The larger one had a bloody nose from slipping on the wet tile while the other almost bit clear through his lower lip struggling to keep himself upright. Guess who's job it was to fix it?

To make matters worse, one of the flailing kids clocked me really good right in the jaw and I'm pretty sure it left an angry-looking welt since everyone practically jumps out of my way when they hear my cane clack-clack-clacking on the floor.

Dealing with the paperwork from that fiasco took another twenty minutes with a strongly worded letter sent home for each. At least I got to sit down for it; my leg bothers me on rainy days as if it were still attached, but on fire and soaked in kerosene. Something about barometric pressure or some shit like that the healers say.

Finally, furious letters aside, I made my way to the room where I'd be supervising the advanced level healing class, but gods forbid, here the stupid receptionist comes again, all smiles and blonde curls and bouncing tits - 'Mr. Aurum, we need you to take over youth fire-starting today.'

She probably thinks she's all cutesy, with her high-pitched squeaky voice, and addressing me formally even though she used my first name while she fell all over me last night at the bar poetry gathering on First and Legend. I finally got to read 'The Divide' last night, and it seemed to get a pretty good round of applause after the last syllables left my lips and crashed upon the ground.

Anyway fire starting.

Normally I don't mind taking over another teacher's class, so long as the brats already know what they're doing. As it turns out, Zirconium didn't actually let her kids use matches. She had her students focusing on using a shoelace and some wood telling them that was the easiest and best way to start a fire. Honestly I don't think she's going to be here for much longer if she keeps this shit up about 'Do this always, don't do that ever.' It's like she doesn't even factor in circumstance.

I guess the ensuing chaos was my own damn fault, but I really didn't want to teach the class in the first place honestly.

One of the urchins brought matches. What's the smart and intelligent thing to do? Let the kid use them of course!

He'd never used matches before, and after lighting his first tiny prick of light, it was like he'd never seen fire. He let it burn right down to his finger before he finally put it out by throwing it right on the concrete floor. Sensible me, pulled him aside and sat him down on a chair while I started fixing the damage he did to his hand. Standard procedure really, cool water followed by burn cream, and a small gauze bandage. Maybe I was showing off a little bit- just the cream would have worked honestly.

While I was preoccupied with that situation, another child took a jar of tar and casually set it aflame with the matches burn-kid brought. When it became apparent he couldn't just blow it out, he threw it on the ground thinking 'Oh maybe it'll just go out on it's own' or some stupid shit twelve year olds think. Maybe it was a full moon, maybe he was preoccupied with the rain thinking the sky was falling, I really don't know.

A dark blob of flaming bullshit spread across the concrete in a long splash line. I screamed at them- I remember that- to get sand, but they all just looked at me really confused and stupid so I of course had to do it myself. I limped to the wall, all adrenaline, and grabbed the crimson-labeled 'In-Case-of-Fire' kit pressed into the paint. I shattered the glass, tore open the green-gel packet, hobbled to the fire, and poured the contents onto the tar.

With the fire smothered, and the kids looking up at me like I'm a damn saint, I called it a day for them. I couldn't imagine them letting me carry on in her class that way- they cancelled all fire-starting sessions afterwards and sent me limping back to my own station, but glowering at my schedule left nothing to be desired.

Naturally, I prefer students who seem to already have a talent for the healing arts; quite a few on my list today have it actually. But the last appointment on my list is a private lesson- one who's parents pay damn good money. Or maybe she's a scholarship. How the hell would I know, no one tells me shit around here; it's all about 'Pay-grades'.

I sit around for the rest of the day, eyeing the evil clock for her damned hour. Seriously, I can't think of anything else, even though the rest of my day goes relatively smoothly but bad things always seem to come in threes and I'm just waiting for that third bombshell to drop.


I swear I'm too old for this shit.