The Last Mystery Monologue

Title???
I thought I was safe. I thought that I was safe with her. I guess I thought a lot of things and I still do. There’s no escape from my mind, I’m a prisoner. No matter how fast I run, no matter how hard I try – I can’t escape. But this is now and things were different before. If I knew then what I know now, things may be different. But I did do it and I have to live with it for the rest of my life.
Three years ago, I was safe. As long as she was there I was okay.
It was a period six, on a Friday, with about half an hour until the final bell. We were working individually. She was free, so I approached her asking her to read a letter and edit it for me. I told her it was a monologue I wrote for acting. The bent truth. Hoping that she wouldn’t

She knew why I didn’t tell my mum things. She knew that when I tried to speak to mum, she played the victim. She’d tell me I’d be better off without her. To protect her and myself, I don’t speak to her about these things; it’s basic survival. So why was she asking me this? Why did she put me in an impossible position? She knew I trusted her and I would do anything. But she also knew I couldn’t do what she was asking of me. Yet I was safe. She wasn’t just another teacher, she cared about me and she convinced me that I wasn’t a burden. I could always count on her. I trusted her, and I was safe. Her deep, brown eyes reminded me that I was okay, she had me.
I felt something pull my hands out of my lap. Not breaking eye contact I could feel her cold frail hand taking my clammy one. Her pinky wrapped around my own, hugging it tightly. Refusing to break eye contact, she looked deeper into my eyes ensuring that I was still with her. I felt her warm protective embrace around me, through our intertwined pinkies and our unwavering eye contact, it was the safest I’d felt in ages. She said strongly “Alex, I need you to pinky promise me that you’ll show this letter to your mum, tonight,