Bright Flame, Deep Shadow (lesbian story)

Hestia

Like always, I can't focus, but I wish it was because of Ardyan this time.

I barely slept after what I did. It's the least I deserve. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Arabella, the way she looked at me right before Tanvik kicked her like a dog and she fell. I'm no psychic, but I know what that look meant.

She knew. When I went to tell Tanvik about Arabella and the treason she didn't commit, the most comforting thought I had going round my head was that she would blame herself. She'd die thinking she made a mistake and Tanvik had jumped to a conclusion, not she was betrayed by one of her own classmates.

Now, the only reassurance I have is that Flick isn't here. By the time the news reaches her, Arabella will be dead for real. If Flick had the slightest suspicion that this is my fault, it wouldn't be the vultures I have to worry about tearing me limb from limb. That's if they tell her at all. They could say Arabella deserted and she'd never know no different.

A lump rises in my throat and my lip begins to wobble. I glance up at Martel. He's staring at the book on his desk, his head resting in his hand, but I haven't heard him turn a page all evening.

I allow a couple of tears to fall from my eyes and roll down my cheeks, then I do what I've been doing my whole life; I sniff, I blink, I swallow, I wipe the tears away, and I build a wall around myself that nobody can break down. Now there's one thing I'm good at.

I put my pencil down. "Professor Martel?" I say, my voice a whisper in the still silence of the classroom. Even earlier, when class went on as normal, nobody said a word all lesson.

"Yes?" He looks up and blinks at me through this thick round glasses, like he'd forgotten I was there.

I chew my lip, not sure what it was that I wanted to say. I think I just couldn't stand the silence. "Nothing. Sorry." I say finally.

Martel nods absently, his eyes shifting around the classroom, as if the seats behind me are full of ghostly students. Then, his gaze finally settles on me. I swallow. There's no way he can know—Tanvik promised to keep my visit a secret—but I can't shake the feeling that he's staring right at my soul. When he opens his mouth, I steel myself for the worst.

But all he says is, "Were you close to Arabella, Hestia?"

"No, sir," I reply, trying not to let my relief show. "Not particularly."

He nods. Martel is not old, but tonight he looks more aged than I've ever seen him. Tanvik probably called a meeting of teachers after I went to him last night. He probably didn't get much sleep, either.

He sighs heavily. "I find that I cannot keep my concentration for long tonight. I believe this morning has taken its toll on all of us."

More than you know, I think, as a tear smudges my writing.