PhD Candidate Faustus

22: now hast thou but one bare hour to live

Helen

"Damn it, Jamie, answer your phone," I mutter, leaning in the hallway of my dorm to get cell service. Third time, and not answering texts. It's late, I'm in shorts and a t-shirt, wet from shower, so I'm loath to actually go find the idiot. But I will.
"Good Evening, Helen," Faustus, sounding like he's putting out a fire. That's legitimately how he answers his phone.
"Is your roommate there?" I ask.
"No, he isn't at the moment, why?"
"I'm um, worried about him can you try to call him?" I ask, "I'll um, just go look for him—,"
"Wait there. We'll go together, he said he just went to talk to someone about an assignment, I'm sure he's in the main hall," still sounding like he's moderately on fire, "Just—give me five minutes."
"No, no it's, it's fine, really, it is, just try to call him if you—," I hear glass breaking. "Just a second."
"I"m here," he says, sounding distracted though.
I mute the phone and walk down the hall, the first year girls tend to be more noisy it wouldn't surprise me if they broke a window again.
"Hey, what's going on?" I ask, walking around the corner, "You know Sister Agatha is going to find out."
Nothing, most of the doors are closed at this point. It's late, after lights out. I'm only up because I was worried about Jamie.
"Is anyone there?" I ask, picking up my phone about to start talking to Faustus again.
That's when something snaps the back of my head.

Faustus

"Helen—Helen?" I ask, the line is dead. I shove the trashcan under the bed. It shouldn't smoke too much more and if it does worst case scenario we have another unplanned fire drill.
I pick up my long trench coat, and then on impulse sweep the rest of my current projects into my backpack. Maybe if Helen's up she'd like to see them. Her phone probably just died.
I call Mephisto's phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. He never doesn't answer my calls. I look at my phone sadly. He never doesn't answer. Except he isn't answering.
Just like everyone else.
Then it starts ringing. I almost don't answer, out of anger. Then I do. Maybe he just missed it by accident.
"Hey—what is it?" He asks, sounding like he's outside.
"Helen couldn't find you—,"
"That's um—Fausty I—I have something I need to tell you."
"Tell me in the morning, okay? I'm going to meet Helen—,"
"Helen? Why?"
"I don't know she called me and her call dropped she was looking for you. Anyway, this looking for each other thing is getting very confusing can't we all just be together?" I sigh, locking our dorm room.
"Not exactly um—I may have to, go away here—for a little while um—Helen can tell you why, someday you, you'll find an angel this time, I promise, there are lots of them. There really are."
"No, no, no, I command you not to leave me," I say, stopping dead in my tracks.
"You can't do that anymore. I freed your soul. Gave it back to God."
"What—no, you can't do that—you can't—," I say, my voice catching in my throat, "No."
"I can actually, and I did. You're free now, Fausty. And I still care about you, but I'm needed elsewhere. You're going to be all right. You're strong. You don't need me anymore."
"Yes I do!! You're right I don't need you—but I want you. Except you're leaving me now so I don't anymore. I hate you," I hang up, and throw my phone to the ground. I don't care anymore. I hate him. This is fine. Faustus needs no one.

Helen

I wake up handcuffed to a bed. My head is spinning, I was clearly knocked out. And I'm aware of cold hands undressing me. Fingers sliding under my bikini shorts and tugging them down my legs.
I wait, as long as I dare, letting my sense return as I stare around the darkened dorm room. I'm not in Dover House, I'm in the other one. I can feel blood on my face from the blow to my head. And I let myself regain consciousness a moment longer. He handcuffed my hands to the headboard but my legs are free. Lorrain. Of course. Out on bail and determined to rape me.
"Shh," he says, putting a hand on my face, "You'll only be what you were before."
I wait for him to move, to get on the bed ontop of me, wait for him to bend over to lean.
And then as quickly as I can I kick up, my knee connecting with his chin.
He jerks in pain, giving me enough time to flip myself up, swinging a leg around his neck and trapping him between my leg and thigh, my legs smashing his throat.
"Yes I am," I say, my breath coming in gasps, "But you're going to be dead."
In his attempt to escape he flips the bed over, with me still cuffed to it, that crushes me off of him and gives him leave to get up, it also helps me to get up too, but I'm still chained. The crash maybe alerted someone? I don't know.
He tries to come toward me but I kick, this time landing a blow to his face. His nose snaps and blood sprays across the room.
I take the time to jerk one of my hands free, adreline, or what have, you I tear half the skin off my hand, but I do it, getting me free enough to meet him with a fist as he comes again.
But this time he as a knife.
I feel the cool blade slide into my stomach, but don't have time to react or feel pain, instead taking hold of his ear and twisting.
At this point both of us have screamed, more than once. We're in a dorm. Someone should come.
Lorrain swears, grabbing me by the throat, I try to punch and claw his face but he's incensed as I am now and not reacting to the pain either. I kick, trying to drive a knee between his legs, but he has learned that one and stays a solid step back.
He moves to stab me again when I hear the door open. And of course I have hope. The door opening means rescue, I would think.
But no.
The rest of the rowing team bursts in. And while they are surprised by the mayhem, one look at their faces and I know they are not here to rescue me.
"Help me tie her back down."
"Shove this in her mouth," one laughs, holding up a sock.
Another grabs my legs as I kick and thrash and scream.
"Get her down," Lorrain is bleeding, quivering with rage.
Five of them snatch me, trying to tie me to the bed with scarves and ties, I get a few good kicks in but I'm still half clothed and suffering from a headwound. They are easily crushing me, face down, into the bed. I try to scream again past the gag but I know in my mind that if it already hasn't summoned anyone, then the dorm is empty, for a fire drill, or anything, something that's leaving me alone with them.
Lorrain gets a handful of my hair, and I can feel hot blood pooling from my stomach into the bed. I don't want to die like this. Why did I have to die like this?
The door opens again, and given how far gone I am I genuienly don't believe the figure standing in the doorway is real or just my imagination. I suppose that isn't what angels are meant to look like. Maybe mine are.
Faustus stands there, soaked to the skin, wearing no shirt, his trench coat open revealing he's carved a pentagram into his own chest. And in either hand he holds a jar, bursting with flames. He himself is glowing from the fire and split blood, eyes dancing in the fire light. His jaw quivers with rage.
The rowing team does begin to react, very slowly because this fantastic figure ought not exist, but they do react. Not fast enough.
Faustus lobs the first jar directly at Lorrain's chest, and I'm just glad I'm going to die knowing he got a fucking Molotov cocktail thrown at him while he had his pants down.
My attackers scream. Faustus throws two more of his bombs, and soon the room is ablaze. They scream more. He moves through the flames unhindered, throwing his soaking coat over me and burning off my bonds, he has fire in his hands still, drawing more of his bombs from a bag. It's incredibly hot, the walls lick with flame, and I can hear them screaming. Sprinklers are going off. It's not doing any good. How is it not putting his fire out?
I try to stand, but step in fire. He scoops me up, surprisingly easily, ducking through a curtain of flame, it licks past us wet as we both are, he keeps my head cradled to his chest.
I nearly pass out from the smoke in the hallway.
"Can you walk? Try to walk," he says, we're to stairs. I don't know how or where, there's smoke everywhere. He's dropped his bag; he's out of bombs. The entire dorm must be going up in smoke.
"End of the line."
We both turn to see Lorrain standing there in front of us, nearly brunt beyond recognition, Faustus' flames still clawing up his chest. Lorrain is holding an oar which is currently on fire, but he's already lost most of his skin, so.
"You can't kill me," Faustus laughs, moving in front of me a bit. I shake, leaning against him. It's so hot I feel my own skin smoldering, and I can't breath for the smoke.
"I'm going to try," Lorrain says.
"Nice try!"
BANG