Page 61 of See Me After Class

It wasn't that I felt bad sharing Dr. Desdemona Davenport with Leon and Viktor. I was never one for monogamous relationships. Indeed, I didn't think they completely aligned with the human framework. But it was different here. I wanted Dessie.

I wanted her like I wanted all things dark and divine, in the depths of my wretched longing. It didn't matter if I had to share her. That wasn't the important thing. What made it all so crucial was that she, for the first time in my life, made me want to come out of a solitary existence that I had always loved.

Which was exactly why I needed to take her down. My eyes met hers once more, narrowing as she put her clothes back on. The rest of us followed suit.

An awkward silence descended throughout the room. Dessie was the first to break it, not with words, but simply by walking out of the room without saying anything at all.

Viktor was the first one to speak. "Did we get it all?"

I nodded briefly.

Leon coughed delicately. "I still don't know how I feel about this, John. It's one thing to have sex, but to exploit?—"

"We're not exploiting her," I barked. "This is insurance for inclement weather."

"Are you sure?—"

"Yes, Leon. I'm sure."

Leon fell silent at the edge in my words. I felt guilty too. I felt like we were putting Desdemona Davenport in a bind, and no respectable human being needed to go through what we were about to put her through.

But my sixth sense kept telling me I had to do it. She was out for blood. She wouldn't stop until she'd cut us all.

Not unless we took her down first.

My thoughts felt like slow embers, burning me from the inside out. It was so easy to allow myself to slip and slide at this juncture. One wrong move, and everything would collapse. I couldn't tell what it was that I stood to lose, but it would be monumental. I walked over to the table at the far end, a nondescript little thing that was too obscure to invite attention.Right on top, I'd affixed the only thing that could get Dessie to give us the truth.

The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

24

Dessie

Itrudged up the stairs to the junior staff wing, each step feeling heavier than the last. The weight of my thoughts seemed to add to the gravity, pulling me down with each weary stride. Every living creature had a limit, a point beyond which they could progress no further.

Unfortunately, it increasingly felt like I was about to reach mine.

Pausing midway, I leaned against the cool wall, closing my eyes for a moment. The echo of my footsteps in the empty stairwell seemed to mock my indecision, my inner turmoil. I pressed my forehead against the wall, the cold surface grounding me back to the present.

For the absolute life of me, I could not understand why I kept navigating back to these men and why I let them use me, and why, for the love of God, did I enjoy it? My mind raced with conflicting emotions, a tumultuous blend of desire, guilt, and a strange sense of empowerment. It was a dangerous game, one where the lines between pleasure and self-destruction blurred.

I pushed off the wall, resuming my climb.

Each step felt like wading through a swamp of my own conflicts. I chuckled bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls.

I could keep telling myself I was doing all this to get to the bottom of Oswald's murder, but well, I'd be lying my ass off. The truth was more complex, tangled in a web of personal desires and professional duties. The murder was beginning to feel more and more like a façade behind which I was hiding my real feelings.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I paused, taking a deep breath. The corridor ahead was dimly lit, the bulbs casting long shadows on the floor. It felt symbolic, somehow – the light and dark intermingling, much like the shadows in my own heart.

I needed to face these conflicting parts of myself, to understand them before they consumed me. But for now, I just needed to get through the night. I sighed heavily, wondering why I had this innate need to complicate every single aspect of my life.

Oswald would tell me this was nothing but my inner need to please people. This was one of the few things about him that rubbed me the wrong way, always. He had a penchant for reading people, which was natural given his profession and long years of experience.

Whenever we would go traveling, he and I would spend at least an hour during the busiest part of evening out in a crowded marketplace, mall, park, or anywhere busy. Once we'd found our spot, we would sit there for hours at a stretch, watching the ebb and flow of human activity. Oswald used to call this people watching.

I remember sitting on a park bench with Oswald one crisp autumn afternoon, a rare moment of leisure in our otherwise hectic schedules. "There." He pointed to a young couple arguing under a nearby oak tree. "Observe them. What do you see?"

I leaned forward, my eyes focusing on the couple. "An argument, obviously. She's upset, and he's defensive."

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