Page 5 of Self Studies

With a flourish, Advisor Crowe appeared through the curtain once again. Not taking my eyes from him, I efficiently braided my hair. The older man scanned the display of exposed flesh my master’s outfit left bare. His gaze lingered on my breasts, and heat burned behind his glasses.

Having dressed in very little all my life, I wasn’t used to the twist of unease from his attention. He wasn’t my master. I had no master.

A lump formed in my throat. I forced it down, not understanding the rush of emotions trying to break through the haze surrounding my thoughts.

“It’s time to begin your new life.” Advisor Crowe’s gaze snapped away from my chest. “Welcome to the Charbon Institute.”

Chapter 2

Advisor Crowe’s low voice mixed in with the echoing sound of our rushed footsteps as he guided me through the vast vaulted halls of the Institute.

Bright LEDs and large windows filled the space with cool light that hid nothing. Cold, dark stone contrasted the rich paint and carpeting of my master’s now destroyed apartment. The only place I’d ever been before this. My stomach knotted with excitement or fear. I couldn't tell.

The corridor connected to a dizzying cross-section of hallways, closed doors, and staircases, leading up and down. I’d no idea they even built buildings this big. Well, academically, I did, but actually being in one.…

I trembled and narrowed my vision before panic broke through the fog still hazing my thoughts.

We came upon a section of the wall replaced with glass. I slowed, peeking past my reflection.

On the other side, a handful of young teenage girls watched TV in a large lounge. Low metal tables and mismatched couches held students with opened books in front of them. A well-dressed woman on the TV screen spoke, though I couldn’t hear what she said. Pictures from around the world rotated behind her.

I wanted to ask Advisor Crowe what they were watching, but his angry face glared at me from where he waited. I swallowed, remembering my place, and trotted awkwardly to his side.

Although I did my best to listen as his tour continued, my attention quickly wandered. Technology was everywhere. A kid who couldn’t be more than twelve almost ran into us, his face buried in his phone. I’d only had phone privileges when Damon needed me to do something for him. Even then, it had been with supervision. Confusion ate at the fog blanketing my existence, bringing with it a spattering of emotions I didn’t know how to respond to.

We turned down another hall. Uniformed students stood around in small groups. Unlike my revealing outfit, the girl’s black skirts came down to their knees. Long sleeve, light blue, button-down blouses, even those with a few buttons undone, looked reserved compared to my bustier. Pants replaced the skirts on the boys. Both sexes wore ties to match the rimming of their eyes.

The groups stopped talking as I passed, studying me, as I studied them. Their expressions became unfriendly, and my stomach twisted unhappily. I was suddenly glad Advisor Crowe set a fast pace. Gasps of shock rippled as I passed. A few catcalls followed me down the hall. Pods of girls giggled and whispered to each other. All of them held phones like the one my master used. I wanted to throw up.

Advisor Crowe seemed immune to all of it. The sound of Damon’s voice, the words I’d lived by, stopped echoing around in my brain, and the fog swirled with agitation.

The world wasn’t what he’d taught me, not even close.

We turned into an empty hall lined with narrow doors. Advisor Crowe came to a stop in front of one of them. A steel plate pounded into the stone directly above the dark wood read GDR13.

“You’re here to be socialized and rehabilitated to fit into society.” Advisor Crowe leaned toward my sweating form as I fought to catch my breath. “Learn from your peers and rely on me as your advisor.” He reached out and squeezed my arm. I trembled at his unfamiliar touch. “I only want what’s best for you. You know where my office is.”

He held out a little plastic swipe card that he’d told me would lock and unlock my dorm room. Despite being the same height as me, he pulled it out of my reach when I tried to grab it.

He grinned. “You must earn your way through action and displays of control. Aptitudes are biannual tests but also reflections of your day-to-day choices. It takes years for most students to complete the program. The MA declared your master evil. Your magic was so entwined with his that if you miss even one class, it will be the end for you. They will execute you.”

I wanted to wrap my arms around myself and cry. All of this was too much. Too fast. Instead, I took a deep breath and wiped my sweaty palms against my skirt. My voice came out in a whisper. “I understand.”

“If you need anything,” Advisor Crowe finished, leaving the statement open-ended. He scanned my body once more before tucking the swipe card into my cleavage. A lifetime of training kept me still. With too much excitement, he took out his phone and held it above me. “Look up and smile.”

Automatically, I did. The click of his camera phone echoed down the empty hall. He stepped back and gave me an approving nod.

“As your assigned advisor, my directions are to be followed, and my door’s always open.” Advisor Crowe turned and began whistling as he walked away from me.

I couldn’t get into my room fast enough.

As Advisor Crowe had explained, my dorm room was not mine alone. I would share it with five other girls. I’d never shared before. Damon and I had only come together at his bidding and in his space.

Light streamed through a long thin window against the back wall, glinting off the three metal bed frames pressed against the stone. In front of them stood another row of beds, all covered in matching dull brown bedding. A white chest of drawers looked out of place at each footboard. Five of the sleeping spaces had unique decorations and piles of stuff under them. The one in the far corner even had fairy lights and pictures hanging against the stone. A red and white ‘do not enter’ sign rested against the dresser.

Kitty-corner to the colorful space, right next to the washroom, was the only bed that looked completely untouched. A white piece of paper stood out against the single pillow. It took me a moment, but eventually, I concluded this bed was mine. A quick search of the space revealed nothing. My promised uniform, still missing in action.

I sat heavily and picked up the piece of paper. The front side looked to be a schedule of some sort. A bright pink slip fluttered against its staple at the top. Flipping the page over, a computer-generated map filled the backside.

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