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The closet itself was enough to throw him into a fit of rage that only ended in Lydia getting hurt. He tried hard to keep himself calm with deep breaths and distracting himself with anything and everything that wasn’t the thought of being trapped inside the closet. As Lydia moved closer from the door so she wouldn’t cause any more noise, his body stiffened from her contact. Head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. Losing control at this very moment could possibly kill her and the thought of killing her scared him. 

The door isn’t locked. He tried to tell himself. 

He wondered how they got themselves stuck in this type of situation. Investigating the new chemistry teacher was one thing, going through papers that were tests; graded. Files of soon-to-be in class exercises and notes that were going to be copied by many students. Isaac began to wonder why they decided to go to the school and search for anything suspicious. He was about to suggest that they look somewhere else when he heard the distant noise of voices. And, with Lydia’s quick thinking, they were shoved into the closet; listening in on the conversation. He hated the idea since the start. 

Another voice joined the mix to take attention away from the closet door. A familiar voice that he was somewhat relieved for. It was Lydia’s mother and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or scared when the door was to be opened. Another deep breath and a hand moved cover across Lydia’s shoulders. He could hear her breathing, her heartbeat. The fear that trapped itself inside the closet with the two of them. The fear that inched closer into his mind to bring up the memories of the freezer that trapped him for so long. His breath hitched as sweat poured from his brow. A small grip on Lydia was enough to tell her he was losing it. “I can’t stay in here.” He muttered in a hush tone. His breathing quickened and his arm moved away from her in the event he lost it. 

She then did something he didn’t expect. She responded to him in french. The foreign language that he barely knew took him by surprise and away from the terror that was soon to break out. He held his breath and listened to her and only her. Blocking out the voices from outside that seemed to be moving at a quick pace out of the room, he focused on her words and tried to figure out what she was saying. 

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His first day at Beacon Hills High had been relatively uneventful. Adam was used to teaching. He’d been doing so for the past two years while he worked on his Master’s degree in Paris. Granted, there he’d been teaching English while here he was teaching French. It was hardly the only reason he was in Beacon Hills. No, the real reason was because he needed closure regarding the death of his younger sister, Allison. 

This was just a cover, a mask, something to pass the time until he learned the truth and found a way to avenge his sister’s death.

So Adam wiped the whiteboard behind him of the French notes he’d written along the surface and gathered the paperwork in the wire bin of his desk that would need to be graded. 

The hairs raising on the back of his neck alerted him to a presence at the door and brown eyes lifted to see who strawberry blonde standing there. Adam didn’t need to ask her name to know who she was. A little research along with what he knew from Isaac allowed him to narrow down a name. Lydia Martin.

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