Strains

Chapter 14

I wake up the next day with my body splayed on top of my bed. I didn't even get under the covers last night. My room is awash with light much brighter than I'm used to. What time is it?

Oh crap, I'm probably late for class! And Hercules will be expecting his stash. I dart out my door, and into a wall.

I land in the dusty hallway.

"You're supposed to be in class."

"I know, I overslept." I grasp the doorframe and pull myself to my feet. Of course Matthew would be here to catch that I ditched class. The one person on this damn campus who can actually punish me for it.

"Why is there blood on your clothes?"

I look down at my dress. Dried patches of red start at the top of my dress and end at my knees. Matthew places a hand on my shoulder and leads me back into the room. He goes to my closet and grabs a clean washcloth. I didn't realize he knew the layout of my room so well. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back out. He jerks his head to the side, signaling me to sit. I take my normal place on my bed. Seems like I'm going to get another lecture and probably a punishment for missing class.

Matthew drags the chair over and sits in front of me. He brings the cloth to my face. It's slightly damp with warm water.

"You want to tell me how this happened?"

Not really.

He flips the cloth over, I can see it's stained with blood. He begins wiping my neck.

"Does anyone know you don't have a strain?"

I shake my head no and he starts wiping again. This is a gentleness I've never seen from him before. It's like he's actually concerned about me. His thumb swirls a spot on my neck under my ear and my breath hitches.

"Rule #127, Elizabeth."

I feel my face go red. That's the rule barring us from having a romantic relationship.

"I-I um..."

"It's fine," he says, now wiping my forehead. "I tend to have that effect on women, just keep it in check."

What a narcissist. Biological responses have nothing to do with romance. I could never fall for a guy that is so obviously into himself. He pulls the cloth away and sets it on the desk. Looks like I was caked in more blood than I thought.

"I expect an explanation, Elizabeth. Not only are you tardy for class, but you neglected a task you volunteered for. If you prefer, I'll assume you're just being obstinate and punish you accordingly."

I begin fiddling with my hands. It's weird. I don't want to tell him anything. He already thinks so little of me, I don't want to lower his already abysmal expectations.

But why? I hardly know him. I never valued the opinions of others when I was alive. No, I prided myself on being strong and independent. The few friends I did have, I never wanted them to worry about me. I could usually handle things on my own. It was my demeanor that kept bullies away throughout childhood and my high school years. My self-esteem and self-worth were so high, that I was too large a prey for the predators to attack. What the hell happened to me?

Crack.

Matthew brings his hands together in front of my face so hard the sound echoes off the bare walls of my room. I look up at him.

"You were spiraling," he says.

I slump forward and cradle my head in my hands.

"Sorry," I say quietly.