Fearscape (23 page)

“
Your TA has access to your email?”

“
Not my password, no, but he was entering grades for me on the computer.”

It took Mrs. Kimble a moment to formulate words. “What's your TA's name?”

“
Mrs. Kimble, I can't give that information out over the phone — ”

“
Is it Gavin?” she persisted. “Is your TA named Gavin Mecozzi?”

Ms. Wilcox paused. “How could you — what's going on? Did Gavin do something?”

“
Call the police,” Mrs. Kimble said. “Drop whatever you're doing and call them right now.”

“
Mrs. Kimble — ”

“
And then, if you value your job at all, get to your classroom as fast as you can.”

“ —
what on earth are you — ”

“
Because if you don't, something terrible is going to happen to my daughter. And I will sue both you and the school for every miserable penny you've got.”

“ —
talking about,” the disembodied voice finished. Mrs. Kimble hadn't bothered to hang up. She just grabbed her keys and ran for her car, hoping she wasn't already too late.

▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

The air hung heavy with the smell of paint, wood, and glue. Chemical and organic all at once, it had the same sort of appealing causticity as a drug. Student projects covered the walls and she was delighted to see a few of her own among them.

“
Ms. Wilcox?”

Silence prevailed in the empty classroom.

Frowning, Val looked around. A screen saver was running on the glowing monitor. There was a Styrofoam coffee cup in easy reach from the keyboard but when Val picked it up, curiously, it was both empty and cold. She set it back down and looked around, bemused.

Her eyes lit on the glow coming from beneath the heavy wooden door of the storage room. Aha. So she was in the back room then. More pictures were on display in here — older ones, and clearly some of Ms. Wilcox's favorites. Every single artist had talent. There were a number of styles, some done better than others, and she smiled at an Escher-inspired drawing.

The picture she had drawn of the toyger kittens was also on display, now carefully enhanced by water colors. She liked the way it looked, giving the picture a softer edge, though the water had caused the paper to warp a little. But thinking about the kittens reminded her of Gavin.

She slid to the next picture: a chessboard in icy shades of blue and gray. The pieces, however, were real human beings, and the fallen had collapsed where they'd been taken, staining the marbled tiles with their blood. The only pieces remaining were the black queen and the white king, the two most important pieces in the game.

The perspective was skewed, strange, unnatural — one that would be impossible in real life, and was vaguely reminiscent of the chase scenes in old horror movies. The king carried a bayonet, which added to this image, and towered over the defenseless queen, whose head was lowered in a gesture of defeat, her fair
(red)
hair hiding her expression. The king, however, looked as though he were seconds away from bringing down the weapon in a killing arc.

Oh, she knew who had painted this one. Without a doubt. She'd seen the preliminary version in his sketchbook.

A door slammed behind her and Val stumbled into the metal filing cabinets as she turned around, her eyes widening when she realized who the intruder was. “Look familiar? It's called
Checkmate.
I had to change a few things, but the basic concept remains much the same.”

“
I don't know what you're talking about,” she said weakly.

He clicked his tongue. “Which picture did you like the best?
Savanna
is my favorite, though for obvious reasons I didn't consider it for submission. I could have made some changes to the content, of course, but that would rather defeat the purpose of the original, don't you think?”

Val couldn't think. She couldn't do anything.

“
You put the drawer in backwards,” he said. “In case you wondered. But that isn't what I wanted to see you about.”

“
But Ms. Wilcox — ” Val trailed off, connecting the empty room with Gavin's presence. The conclusion was not a pleasant one. “Oh god — where is she?”

“
Hmm? Who?”

“
What did you do to our teacher? I was supposed to meet her here!”

“
Val, Val, Val — what kind of monster do you take me for? I did nothing to her.”

“
I don't believe you.”

“
You should. Ms. Wilcox didn't send you that message, you see, though she kindly provided me the means to do so. I did. It was me whom you arranged to meet. Oh, by the way — I took the liberty of deleting your mother's message. No need for anyone to get hurt. Is there?”

Val flattened herself against the file cabinet.
He's the TA
.
Ms. Wilcox would have no reason to suspect … to think he would —

“
Now don't get skittish with me.” His hands hit the metal on either side of her with twin clangs. “You don't want me to chase you again. Once I catch you, well, I might do anything.”

“
What does that mean?”

“
Use your imagination.” His lips brushed hers as he spoke the loose command. Val kept her mouth closed, gritting her teeth so hard they ached. “You do still have one, don't you?” And then his lips were on her throat. She yipped when the sting of his teeth made all the nerves and muscles in her throat bunch up, and she forgot how to swallow.

“
I'll scream.”

“
Be my guest,” he said, and the pressure he was putting on her shoulders increased as he began to inexorably drag her down to the ground. Val resisted, but it was like a lone tree trying to stand up to the relentless gales of a hurricane; he would either tear her up by the roots, or snap her in half like a small twig.

“
Please ….” Something hard slammed against her knees. It was the floor. “Don't do this.
Why
are you doing this?”

“
Because it's necessary,” he said, gripping her hard by the shoulders, “there is only so much that one can give up freely; I said I wished to possess you in all ways — and I will.”

Her head hit the hard floor of the storage room and white sparks burst like fireworks before her eyes.

And then he was on top of her, the solid weight of him keeping her pressed against the cold stone tile. Even though her tears, she could make out his quiet smile of triumph.

“
I liked you,” her voice broke, “I really liked you. Oh, god, I don't understand — what did I
do
?”

She felt his lips brush against her cheek. For a heartbeat, she felt relief — this was all a mistake, a misunderstanding, her words had struck a chord within him — and then she felt his tongue, tasting the salty tracks of her tears.

“
You were too human.”

Val twisted her head away so quickly that she hit the stone, and the movement stung. “Lisa was right. You're psychotic.”

“
Oh, Lisa. The fount of all wisdom. And what other gospel did she share? Did she tell you I was a big, bad wolf?” He kissed the other side of her throat. “That my big, sharp teeth were all the better to eat you with?”

She opened her mouth to scream, and her breath died as his hand skimmed over her budding breasts through the silk of her blouse. “She was right. I've been hunting you this whole time, waiting for you to stray from the path. But you — you came into the woods after me.”

Chapter Fifteen

Fear came in many shapes and forms, and in varying degrees, but until now Val had never experienced the overwhelming terror which resulted from utter helplessness. Seconds ticked by and salvation did not come. And Val came to the grim conclusion that she was completely at his mercy — which was unfortunate, because he didn't seem to have any.

She whimpered when she felt his fingers tease the skin beneath the hem of her shirt. In the confines of her belly, fear formed a hot ball of molten lead.

“
Tell me you belong to me.”

“
No.” She squeaked unhappily when his nails raked lightly against her midriff. “No, I won't.” She squeezed her eyes shut, putting space between them the only way she knew how.
I don't belong to him
.
Then he cupped her breast, as if trying to claw out her heart, and a small, insidious voice added,
yet
. “I won't,” she repeated, pathetically, as his lips brushed against her pulse.

“
If you say it,” his chapped lips scraped her throat with each word, “I might let you go.”

How stupid did he think she was, that she would fall for the same ruse twice? She called him a name, punctuated by several other words she wasn't supposed to know, and a handful of phrases Lisa had used to refer to various ex-boyfriends.

His thumb slipped beneath the cup of her bra and Val froze completely, her speech cut off as neatly as if a switch had been thrown. She was no longer even breathing. Gavin shot her a smile that was distinctly serpentine as he pulled his hand away, running his fingers harmlessly down the center of her ribs. Her heart was hurling itself against her chest as if trying to escape.

Val wished she could do the same.

“
You're going to hurt me.”

“
I can make you feel whatever I want,” he went on, in a soft, soothing voice that she didn't believe for one minute.

“
You're going to hurt me,” she repeated, cracks of fear rifting through her words on each point of impact.

He kissed her, tracing the grooves of her spine as he did with light shivering scratches that made her want to pull away but only caused the body weighing hers down to press against her all the more fully. The words on her lips burned with unspoken promises as he said, “Only a little.”

Val's stomach twisted. To her revulsion it wasn't entirely in fear.

Then she saw something that gave her hope. She drew in a deep breath and screamed as loud as she could, gratified when he winced at the shrillness.
I hope I broke his eardrums
. He yanked his hand from her back and clapped it over her mouth hard enough to sting —

And then the door burst open.

▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

Ms. Wilcox had seen many things in her twenty years of teaching, but as she stared, frozen, at the two teenagers tangled up on the floor, she had the passing thought that none of them had ever been quite so bad as this. Val — that sweet, shy girl of whom she was quite fond — was pressed with her back flush against the floor, her arms pinned over her head.

By Gavin. Her TA. Whom she had entrusted with sending emails and making copies and various other privileges that were denied to student assistants as a de facto policy. He fixed her with a flat look that reminded her disconcertingly of a leopard defending its kill.

“
What — ” it took her a moment to find her voice “ — Gavin? What are you doing?” Her words were more reflex than anything else. There was no misinterpreting the situation. The poor girl had been trying to scream this whole time, and he was denying her even that small dignity. Anger began to curl through Ms. Wilcox's shock, bright red seeping through the gray fog of her mind with striking clarity. Her own younger sister had been assaulted, when they were both teens, by a man old enough to know better. He, too, had been callous in the execution of his selfish desires. In a steel-girded tone Val had never heard her teacher use before, even in class, Ms. Wilcox said, “Get off her, you son of a bitch. Right now.”

Slowly, Val felt him release her wrists. Pain arced through them as blood began to circulate with excruciating slowness through her veins. But his legs, still on either side of her hips, tensed as if he were readying himself to spring.

“
You're making a terrible mistake.”

“
Get — away — from
Val
.”

She saw his eyes flick towards the drawer where the carving supplies were kept for woodwork.
He wouldn't —

He was.

Val screamed a wordless protest, grabbing him by the ankle with both arms and pulling hard. His eyes widened almost comically as the ground slid out from under him. All the air in his lungs exploded out of him in a painful-sounding wheeze as he slammed against the floor. Val was on him in an instant, punching, kicking, and clawing, not giving him time to recover.

Which he did. He was quite a bit stronger than she thought. He tried to push her off, but she was clinging to his shirt with her nails, pinching flesh as well as fabric. He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a growl, a gasp, and a laugh.

Val went for his eyes and he turned his head, so her blow caught him beneath the jaw. Raw stripes appeared in the wake of her fingers, already welling up with blood. “I suggest you stop now,” he said, catching her hand as she cocked her arm back for another strike. “Before you regret this.”