literature

The Conductor.fear itself.

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FEAR ITSELF

Passing bell rang and the class stood up to leave with much voracity, like race horses out the starting gates. I grabbed the straps of my backpack and tried to head out the backdoor before Mr. Mahler could catch me, feeling sure he’d want a word. I could just see it on his face, the urgent need to rake me over the coals for my unconsciousness. There was a bottle-neck though, thirty-five some odd students all trying to fit through a three and a half foot wide doorway.

“Miss Shastid, I’d like to speak to you.” Mr. Mahler called out loudly, like a barking rottweiler, before I could even reach the crowd before the door.

I winced, hunched my shoulders up around my neck, and turned back to go to his desk in surrender.

Mr. Herman Mahler had been teaching high school English for a decade and he still absolutely loathed it. It showed in the absolute white shock of hair amidst the jet black on his crown. It showed in the thick, greying caterpillars that slashed his pock-marked forehead. It showed in the twitching left eyelid over his bloodshot hazel eye. It showed in the boozy smell on his breath. It showed in the script of his hand and the screech of yellow chalk on the blackboard. It showed in his incessant need to torment the weak and injured in the herd. His hatred showed on him like red on white.

Everyone just called him Mahler, you know, like mauler. Which fit because when he got a hold of a sensitive kid, he would practically destroy them verbally. He rallied himself for student torture, fed off it, like Freddy Kruger on the souls of children. He really hated kids, with such a passion, it was a wonder he hadn’t gone Postal yet. It was also a wonder why the hell he took this job to begin with. And kept it! He was older than the Flower Power generation by at least five years, and never seemed the Yuppie type at all. I always suspected it was something like War damage that made him a complete bastard. However, I could never see him honorable enough to be in the Uniform.

Sighing heavily, I went up to his desk and stood, staring at the papers crinkled and scattered across it’s age-blackened wood top. Test papers and reports. I secretly marveled at some of my classmates penmanship. Taggers by nature, they purposefully made their work impossible for anyone not skilled in graffiti art to read. It was trenchant to say the least. Still earned them an F though, by Mahler’s standards, of course.

Mahler’s left eye twitched, his fuzzy brow crawling again. Up close, he looked a lot uglier this year than I remembered. More lines in his pitted face. He was greasy too, all over. It was disgusting really. Made me think of rancid pig fat. His skin seemed saturated with canola oil, hair seemingly glued to his cranium with Parkay Spread.

“This is the second time you’ve fallen asleep in my class, Miss Shastid, and it’s only three weeks into the fiscal year.” He sat back arrogantly and held his pencil with both hands. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

I’m already failing your class, what the fuck do you think, jackass?! “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t get much sleep this weekend.”

“I don’t care.” He quickly snapped, eyes cutting into me. “If you don’t shape up in here, I will send you to Professor Montessori with a referral for Saturday classes and summer school.”

“Yes, sir.” I mumbled, clenching my jaw, trying so hard not to tell him off.

“You’ve failed my class once already, last year. Your constant insistence on melodrama and ignoration... Are you slow, Miss Shastid? A dullard?” He was baiting me.

Fuck you. “No, sir, not that I know of.” Might as well act like a jackass in return.

Mahler blinked and smacked his lips against yellow teeth. It was eerily silent in the room now as the rest of the class had quickly dispersed and left just him and me alone in there. Upon my realization, I swallowed hard and felt my hackles raise up. His eyes did something I didn’t like then, a smarmy expression in them as they crawled over my torso a moment. Felt like a worms. I shivered.

I’d always known he was a pervert! I just never really had the fucking proof. And yet there it was in that lurid expression and nasty greyish tongue poking out between his lips. I clenched my fists in my jacket pockets tightly, trying to decide what I could do to dissuade the asshole.

“Mr. Mahler?” A nimble voice called from the doorway and I looked. Jimmy Yashi, nerd and local bootlick to the administration staff came in, a note in his hands on the office yellow ‘Student Pass’ pad.

I secretly sighed in relief. Jimmy’s eyes, magnified twelve times by the bottle-lenses of his glasses, looked meekly at me. He had terrible acne and was scrawny and goofy looking. I figured he’d grow into a beautiful Japanese boy by college, though. His bone structure said so much. He was gonna end up being something great, I was certain of it. He was smart and kind and well-adjusted. He’d blow the rest of the graduating class out of the waters tenfold.

I heard Mahler adjust his dental bridge in disapproval of Jimmy barging in on whatever twisted fucked up idea he was in the midst of having while belittling me. The sound grated my eardrums and I wanted to smash his face in. My fists clutched up tighter.

“Dr. Diablon wants to see Jessica Shastid.” Jimmy handed the note to Mahler. Mahler snatched it and read it. Jimmy had a great ease with language too, his pronunciation of Damian’s name was faultless.

I looked at Jimmy and watched his eyes dart back and forth between me and Mahler. The look on his face and in those giant almond eyes said it all. He knew Mahler, knew what a bastard the guy was, knew what I was standing against. And he felt sorry for me.

Mahler looked bitterly at me with another disenchanted sigh and handed the pass over. “We’ll discuss this further at a later time then, Miss Shastid.” The disgust in his voice felt like he wanted to slime me. Fuckin’ asshole...

I nodded once and followed Jimmy out. Jimmy gave me a slight, sorrowful smile and immediately disappeared into the crowd of students heading towards the canteen for Nutrition. I didn’t even have time to return the thankful smile I felt.

I rolled my eyes in exhaustion of how awful my day was going and pinched the bridge of my nose between my eyes. I wondered how much worse it could get.

Making my way across campus to building A1-AL, inside and to the counselors offices had me in outer space. I didn’t remember anything after Jimmy’s big brown eyes encased in Coca-Cola bottles melded with the drudgery of the rest of the student body. I just remember finding myself at the counter before Miss Cathy.

She sat at her cluttered desk with what looked to be the same ugly pink shirt on with the coffee stain on the front. My entrance had apparently just caught her readjusting that nasty biting bra again. She lifted her cold eyes to me and planted her hands on the desk immediately. There was a vague spook about her now that I didn’t quite understand. More than just being interrupted in something that wasn’t meant for public viewing. A couple lines of wariness around her eyes were new. I looked at her with mild concern a moment before opening my mouth to ask about Damian.

Before I could say anything though, the door to Damian’s office opened with the distinctive metal against metal sound. My head jerked to look at him and I had to catch my breath from making an audible gasp. He looked... hell, he looked even better than I remembered him looking. My heart pounded in my chest a little.

“Miss Shastid.” His voice wrapped around me like spider silk.

Damian stood in the doorway of his office, looking at me with an expression of ill-defined disapproval. He wore a tailored white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up tightly to his elbows. His jeans were ox-blood colored and form-fitting around his slender legs, another pair of faultless black pointed boots beneath them. The black hair was awesomely messy yet still perfect, his grey eyes still glowed, and his skin still brilliantly smooth and pale.

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago, Miss Shastid.” He stated with what felt like formal disappointment.

The fluttering in my rib cage faltered and died piercingly. I heard my teeth snap shut sharply. “Yeah, well, shit happens, Dr. Diablon.” I muttered. It was trite but I couldn’t help it. I turned to him and felt the distaste for the formalities between us.

He stared me down as I walked passed him into his office. Despite a growing feeling of alienation inside me, I breathed in carefully as I slipped by him. Another thing I couldn’t help, his scent of subtle cologne made me feel lightheaded. But that tone of his coupled with the complete shit of a day I was having had made me a bit immune to such niceties. I threw my backpack on the floor and crossed my arms, becoming bitter stone. He shut the door and watched me with some vexation.

“Bad day, today, Jess?” Damian turned, following me, the formalities gone and a smile attempting to grace his lips.

I suddenly felt extremely furious and it burned me up. Mahler was eating at me, the creepy sonofabitch. And Grandma was eating at me. My dreams were, too. And Caleb as well, for that matter. I couldn’t even appreciate his attempt at friendship. My fingers dug into my elbows like dull knives and I welcomed it; felt I deserved it. My face felt hot and my eyes stung like there was salt in them. Every little bad thing just came together and made me so anxious and frustrated, it felt like it was swelling and surging in my head like a sea in a bad storm. I couldn’t even unclench my jaw to answer him. All I could do was glare at him and pace the edges of his office.

I strutted behind the winged leather chair and around the other side of the black desk.  When I rounded back behind Damian, I stared fiercely up at him from beneath my eyebrows

He breathed in deeply. “You’re not going to speak to me today, Jess?” He asked slowly, lightly.

He looked vexed as he stood still, holding his hands loosely before himself. As I made another pass, his grey eyes closely scrutinized mine.

“Jess?” His voice grew sober.

Again, my jaw just wouldn’t let me say anything, my throat tightened and my brow furrowed more and more. I passed him again, seeing the look of anger suddenly in his eyes. The hairs on my arms lifted in fear but I just couldn’t help it. I felt absolutely fucking tempestuous. And he was the only one there to receive it.

I paced by him once more before he stiffened completely.

“Stop!” He barked.

It was so loud I jumped and stopped dead in my tracks. Even my breathing stopped dead, caught in the ball in my throat. I thought his voice would shatter the windows it was such a loud burst. From beside his winged chair behind his desk, I began to feel the edge of panic. He turned sharply to face me and glared, eyes burning holes in me. I shrank.

“I won’t accept this!” He bit through clenched teeth. “You will not treat me like them!”

I stared back hard at him, not understanding what he meant. Straightening his back, he frowned disdainfully and rubbed his palms with his knuckles in thought. He then slowly stepped around his desk towards me. His eyes didn’t let up though and I was losing my hard-ass exterior. I was afraid he was going to yell at me or something worse. He stopped before me closely and bent threateningly over me.

“I am not at all like them, Jess. I don’t deserve this... side of you.” He spoke carefully, gesturing with aversion at my attitude.

Something in his eyes worried me terribly. They had this eldritch energy that scared the hell out of me while beckoning me to come ever closer. Just like Dracula. His face held that same regalness that it had in my dream as I looked up at him like a frightened subject, revering him.  My jaw quivered open then, trying to say something, trying to apologize maybe, anything to make him stop looking at me like that.

“I-I-I’m sorry, D-Damian.” I squeaked through a dry throat, stuttering. “Please?”

He practically towered down over me, feeling ten feet tall like Death in my dream about Grandpa Clark. His breath fell gently against my face and I could smell his brand of cigarettes now. They had to be Marlborro, the smell was distinct enough.

Slowly, the edges of his mouth righted themselves and he bowed his head to me, his eyes glued to mine. Like I had somehow appeased him through my paltry anemic apology.

“It’s alright.” He purred to me and took one step back from me. “But, don’t do it again.” He stressed the word ‘don’t’ a little, just enough for me to get the point.

I shook my head and backed away from him, back to the submissive side of his desk, to stand nervous and wide eyed like a guilty puppy. He watched me move then looked down at his hands. His silhouette was masterful against the bright daylight through the windows.

“Now,” he breathed slowly and motioned deftly towards the couch with his right hand. “What brought all of this outrage into my office with you today, Jess?”

I swallowed hard and backed clumsily to the couch where I dropped down and pulled my knees up to my chin, hugging my thighs tightly. I felt like a child. I felt stupid.

“I, um, had a rough weekend. And morning. I guess.” My voice was quivering and I felt smaller than the mice beneath the dusty floorboards.

Damian looked back up to me, his eyes brightly glinting and soft once more. “Did I frighten you? Is that why your voice is shaking like that?” He sounded a little surprised, but from my perspective with the brightness of day silhouetting him, I couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or real.

I nodded slightly after a moment’s thought and kept my eyes wide open and on him. He smiled strangely and took the wings of his chair in his hands. He moved it around the desk and positioned it carefully before the couch at an angle. He sat down and leaned on his elbows to look me in the face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Jess.” He said frankly. “Do you forgive me?”

I wasn’t sure about him. He was so odd, he was unsettling in the most utter and chaotic way. All signs practically pointed to danger with him, like a porcupine’s quills. The “fuck with me and you’ll get hurt bad” type of warnings. But... I wanted to be sure though. I wanted to trust him deeply, with everything.

I also wanted to know what that skin over his sharp cheekbone felt like against the backs of my fingers, and whether or not his hair felt like black cat fur, which I suspected it did.

But he scared me so. And he infected me more. My stomach was flipping.

“Please?” He asked softly, leaning in just a little closer, winking his right eye at me quickly.

Nervously, I giggled a little and looked away, his wink sending butterflies through my veins. He grinned all teeth and sat back, kicking the heels of his boots up onto the left arm of the couch. He let his left arm stretch out towards me comfortably, unassumingly, his hand right before my feet on the edge of the couch. I stared at it a moment, at it’s articulate tendons and muscles and the tapper of his fingertips, and then I looked back to his face.

A momentary inquiry ran riot through my head; what the hell was he doing to me and why? But his grey eyes blinked languidly now and he looked so sublimely upon me that I felt all that fear melt like ice in the Sahara.

“Better now?” He asked raising his brows.

I smiled like a little girl behind my knees and nodded.

“Good. So, now, why don’t you tell me all of what happened since I last saw you, alright?” He said.
i added bits and edited it so it flows better. yes, doc and jess will speak more during this session, i'm sure of it.

please let me know of any mispells or mistakes. i'm trying to get better at this...

----
geezus chryst!!

The Conductor part one: [link]
part two Lunch Hour Blues: [link]
part three Death Wishes: [link]
part four White Flag: [link]
part five Homelife: [link]
part six Morning: [link]
part seven Fear Itself: [link]
part eight Wounds: [link]
part nine Cleansed By Fire part a: [link]
part ten Cleansed By Fire part b: [link]
part eleven Missing: [link]
part twelve Mahler: [link]
part thirteen Deliverance: [link]
part fourteen Quiet: [link]
part fifteen Hangman's Jury: [link]
part sixteen March To Gallows: [link]
Part seventeen Conducting: [link]
part eighteen Nostalgia Sake: [link]
© 2008 - 2024 RUNNrabbitRUNN
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MagniloquentMurmurs's avatar
You get six billion cool-thulhu points for using the word eldritch so elegantly.