Page 70 of Grave Matter

This time his hand catches my wrist and holds my palm inches away from his face.

“You’ve been drinking,” he says. “You need to calm down, for your own good.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” I sneer. I feel violent, out of control, like I’m finally unraveling, every thread that had threatened to come loose is finally being pulled. “As if I don’t have a right to be upset! To be horrified!”

His grip on my wrist tightens. “I won’t let go until you do. Come on, Syd. Let’s get your heart rate down, take in a deep breath.”

“Fuck you,” I say, trying to pull out of his grasp, but he reaches out and grabs me by the back of the neck. I automatically freeze.

“Calm down,” he repeats sternly. His grip on my neck is as strong as the one on my wrist and for a moment I feel true fear. It penetrates my alcohol-induced bravado, a sharp shard of clarity, and I realize I’ve been a fool. I came here alone to confront my teacher, someone I barely know, someone who has all the power and all the secrets, and I stoked him into these flames, a fire that could consume me whole.

He could hurt me. It would be my word against his. Who would believe me after all the stuff I’ve been saying? I’m sure his computer is full of files about me and my behavior.

About how crazy I am.

“There,” he says softly, still staring deep into my eyes. “Breathe. That was fight. Next is flight. But right here I see fear. It’s good to be afraid of me, Syd. It’s good to be afraid of everyone. Promise me you won’t lose that.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

“Why?” I whisper, noticing the grip on my neck has loosened. He starts to move his thumb back and forth over my skin, rubbing it. It’s bringing my heart rate down but it’s doing something else to me. Making my knees weak. “I hate you,” I whisper.

“I know you do,” he says with a sigh. “You deserve to hate me. I hate me too.”

And yet somehow that angers me, like it’s the easy way out.

“Tell me why you were spying on me,” I say through a clenched jaw. “Are you…obsessed with me?”

It sounds absolutely stupid when I say it though there is no other word.

A small, sad smile on his lips. “We’re all obsessed with something, aren’t we? We all have our little fixations. You know that better than anyone.”

I swallow hard. “This is more than a little fixation,doctor. Cameras, standing outside my window, following me on walks, those are all more than a little fixation.”

“I know,” he says, gaze dropping to the floor. He lowers my hand but he’s still holding on. “It can’t be helped. The moment I first saw you I knew I was done for.”

My cheeks burn. I remember that moment like it was yesterday, bumping into him outside the learning center. “You looked like you were scared of me,” I mutter.

“I was. Because I knew.” He pauses, glancing back at me to meet my eyes, his brow crumpled. “And I know my role. I know my position. I know that this power imbalance is why I can’t ever act on anything. I was doomed.”

His words are starting to sink in, to have an effect.

I can’t let them drown me because I’ll just put my hands up willingly.

“And so you decided to put cameras in my room? Because the one during our sessions wasn’t enough?”

He lets go of my neck and wrist and walks across the room, running his hands over his face. My skin aches where he held me. Some sick part of me hopes it leaves a mark. “No,” he eventually says. “It wasn’t enough.”

He stops by an ornate mirror on the wall and stares at himself.

“I just don’t understand,” I say.

“Come here and maybe you will.”

I hesitate and then walk over to him. He moves out of the way, gesturing for me to take his place.

I step in front of the mirror and stare.

I look like a fucking mess. Streaks of mascara under my eyes that the cleanser didn’t get. My hair wild, my robe hastily fastened.

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