Strains

Being in Matthew’s house is weird. Everything is so tidy and cozy, but Matthew’s unwelcoming nature makes it more intimidating that it should be. I don’t know why, but I never pegged Matthew as the sort to live like this. He’s definitely put together, but to have a decorative cover for the tissue box on the coffee table is another level entirely. I can’t even spot a grain of sand or speck of dust on the wood floors.

There are some water color paintings on the walls, all landscapes and nothing abstract. A plain shaggy brown rug lays under an overstuffed red couch. Not at all what I would expect from an eternal bachelor.

I’m still in the doorway, taking everything in as Matthew removes his jacket and places it on a coat rack.

“Can I get you a glass of water?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. I can wait here while you get what you need,” I say. My palms are sweaty and all I’m doing is standing in his doorway. I don’t need to go any further than this.

“Don’t be weird, follow me.”

I hesitate, then do as he says.

We pass the red couch and then a small table and two chairs. We go down a short hallway where he opens the door for me.

“This is your new classroom, take a seat.”

I step into the dark room, my heart pounding at the walls of my chest. I know I shouldn’t be nervous, but I can’t help but be jumpy after everything that happened last night and honestly I’m not sure I can really trust Matthew.

His shoulder brushes mine as his steps echo forward. With a woosh, the room is bathed in light. It’s a small library, with floor to ceiling bookshelves, a fireplace, a leather reading chair and an executive desk in front of bay windows.

Matthew ties the curtains back and looks at me. He gestures to the leather chair. I sit in it and breathe a sigh of relief. He rolls a whiteboard from a closet and locks it in place in front of the desk. He sits on his desk.

“Welcome to your core class,” he says, stretching his arms.

“You’re going to teach me?”

He gives me a look that says ‘what else would we be doing here’.

Well, that changes things.

I perk up in my seat.

“What are you going to teach? Is it magic?”

He looks at me dubiously.

“No. You’re going to be learning something that’s actually useful.” He grumbles something about Caiden that I can’t quite make out. Then he leans over his desk and grabs a folder.

“So does this core class come with an allowance?”

“You would need to develop usable skills if you want to get paid and looking at your performance thus far, you may consider this a remedial class.”

I slump forward. Damn.

“I thought core classes were like job training for after graduation,” I say.

“The likelihood of you graduating is close to zero, and that’s being generous. Instead, we’re going to focus on making your stay here more bearable.”

More bearable for me or him?

“So, it’s been a week since you’ve arrived, besides the incident that happened last night, how have things been?”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Seriously?”

“Well my week has not been particularly good. And considering your newfound attachment to the little librarian and your plans to run away, I think it’s fair to say our situation needs work.”

Of course he heard me think that earlier. “That’s a gross understatement.”

He flips through the folder in his lap. “Apparently, Hercules’ class is the only one you’re passing.”

Matthew sighs and unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves and shoves them up to his elbows. He grabs a few colored markers.

“So on our list of things that need improvement. Academics,” he says, writing the word on the board and placing a bullet point next to it. He writes some more words until the list expands the length of the whiteboard. He turns back to me. “Looks like you have a lot of work to do.”

Geez. The list is a mishmash of things Matthew thinks I suck at. Doing the dishes, showing up on time, exercising common-sense, and basic etiquette. It’s all shallow stuff, and nothing that gets to the core of what my issues in this place are. He’s set aside a column for my strengths, but it’s completely blank. It’s like he doesn’t even know me.

“Feel free to add to the list,” he says, tossing me a marker.

I let the purple marker roll between my fingers. Fine, if we’re really going to spend time on this exercise, I might as well get some input. And if he intends to help me, even a little, it might be worth it. But when I get to the whiteboard, my hands freeze and I can’t unpin my arms from my side.

“If there’s nothing else, we can work with the list as it is.”

Doing an intensive study dedicated to Latin and dishwashing isn’t going to help me. I don’t have any other choice. I uncap the marker and add some lines beneath his. I place it back in his hands when I finish and sit back down in my seat.

Matthew looks my additions over and puts his hand to his chin.

“And you think these should take priority over the others?” He asks.

I bite back a sarcastic remark. Etiquette lessons can wait until I learn to defend myself, I don’t think that’s a big ask.

“Fortunately for you, I believe in the power of multi-tasking,” he says with a sly smile.

***

“It’s really dark in there,” I say.

“It’s dusty and filled with spiders too. In you go.”

Matthew pushes me forward and I struggle to keep my feet planted on the ground.

On the east side of campus, way past the dorms and people who hate me, is an ocean of sand dunes. Where we stand now, is a dark tunnel into the catacombs under campus. Matthew had told me legends of the tunnels that wind throughout the underbelly of the academy and supposably lead out all the way to Hero’s Square. Why they or all this sand is here is a mystery, like everything else in Near Elysium.

Matthew thinks he can convince me to just hop in but he’s sorely mistaken. This looks like a pit that goes straight to hell. If I weren’t already dead, I’d think Matthew were trying to bury me. He nudges me again, but I stand firm.

He sighs deeply and slides his foot underneath mine. It’s an effective tactic, and I tumble roughly down the stones steps until I reach solid ground. For a moment, I think I’ve gone blind, but it’s just pitch black down here.

“You dead?” Matthew says, coming up from behind me.

“That really hurt.”

“Punishments usually do. I’m impressed though, you’re a lot more robust than I thought. Remind me to put that on the board later.” I hear a soft crack and watch as dull candlelight attempts to fill the space.

“Yes sir.” He helps me to my feet and holds my hand as we walk further into the tunnel.

“Elizabeth, would you say you’re afraid of the dark?”

“Not especially.” I’ve been getting pretty used to it over at the library, though this place is a lot darker.

“Good,” he says.

We continue walking, and I drift closer to him to avoid the spider webs on the walls. It’s so narrow, why would anyone build something like this? The area opens up, and it feels like there’s endless darkness surrounding us. What kind of room is this?

“This is where we’ll be training,” he releases my hand and blows out the candle. A loud crashing sound echoes off the walls, like something being dragged against the ground, until it settles.

“Where are you?”

“Why do you sound so afraid? Your trips to see the librarian didn’t prepare you for this?”

I look around, but I can’t get a sense of what direction his voice is coming from. What is this? Why are we here?

“This is part of your training and phase one of improving our afterlife. You have to be stronger than what you are now. So...”

I feel something plastic being shoved into my hand. What is it?

“That’s your weapon. A very powerful purple marker. All you have to do is get a lethal mark on me, that’s all.”

That explains why we changed into white clothes. Still, it sounds crazy.

“How are we going to be able to find each other in this darkness? We could have done this outside,” I say.

A slash comes across my face and the faint scent of vanilla hits my nose.

“You would’ve lost your eyes if this were a real fight. You have to try at least!”

I feel severely disadvantaged. I have no idea what I’m doing and I can’t see anything.

“Come on! Hercules said you were fast and had good instincts, or did you make him say that?”

His foot hits mine and I feel the felt tip of his marker run across my neck. I swing back and hit nothing but air.

“That would’ve killed you in less than a minute.”

“How can you tell all of that?” I yell, spinning around wildly.

“You’re so loud, how could I not know where you are? Just calm down.”

Easier said than done.

“There you go again. Take a breath. You have a survival instinct, use it.”

What the hell is he talking about? Survival instinct? Has he forgotten that we’re dead? Where were those instincts when we needed them?

For what has to be hours, I flail my arms around, but it’s futile. I didn’t hit him once and now I’m tired.

“That’s quite enough for today, let’s go,” Matthew says. He relights the candle and smirks as he offers me his hand. Thank goodness we’re finally finished. My arms feel like Jello.

***

My legs feel as unstable as my arms when we make it back up the hill to Matthew’s house. I fall back into the leather chair in his office.

“How about a bathroom break?” Matthew says.

It’s not like I have to go.

“It’s across the hall. Towels are in the cabinet,” he says, flipping through some binders.

Guess that means I have to go after all. I drag myself out of the chair and limp across the hall. The bathroom, like the rest of the house, is immaculate. Even the grout is spotless. I glance over to the mirror hanging from the wall.

“The hell?”

Laughter echoes from the office. I twist on the faucet and rub at my face. Why did he have to use red? My face, neck and arms are covered in jagged lines of ink. Ink that is stubbornly clinging to my skin no matter how hard I scrub at it.

I’m not going back to see Matthew just to get laughed at again. Peeling off six layers of face isn’t enough. I peek behind me and make sure Matthew isn’t around.

Looks like the coast is clear.

I’m not a bad person. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly nosey either. Inquisitive maybe, or innocently curious at least. That makes what I’m about to do okay.

My fingers grip the wooden cupboard on the wall that looks suspiciously like a medicine cabinet.

I’m not snooping. I just need a face wash. There isn’t much, since there isn’t much of a need for medicine here, just a stick of deodorant and a bottle of cologne. He must have some skincare products around here somewhere. It wouldn’t be fair of him to have a nice face and naturally perfect skin.

I pull a drawer open. An orange pill bottle rolls to the front. Inside are a tons of tiny white pills. The label is blank and the only marking on the bottle is a black x written on the top.

Matthew sighs heavily behind me. I jump and pinch my thumb as I rush to shut the drawer.

“Your etiquette lessons begin here tomorrow. Be on time with a three page essay about why it’s wrong to rummage through other’s things,” he says, taking the bottle from my hands.

I nod and rush past him. Guess I’ll be washing my face in my own room.