Horror A BATTLE OF MINDS (Horror + Erotica)

[manjumallu]

A BATTLE OF MINDS (Horror + Erotica)​

The following story takes place in a fictional small town in Eastern Germany, sometime in the late 1990s. Due to the German school system of that time (starting relatively late, and leading until 13th grade for those who want to attend university), most students were 18 or older during their last two years of school. This is also the case for all school students in this story.

This story is fictional. Any similarities to real people or events are a coincidence.

Note: This story collected from Internet

 

[manjumallu]

Update-1​

At night, Lake Leskow looks like a black mirror. Its murky depths seem unfathomable. Sometimes, the wind makes its journey across the lake: Then, small waves ripple its surface and the moon's reflection dances on those tiny curls of water. The moon's big moment never lasts for more than a few minutes: The wind brings clouds that hide it from view. The trees of the Grünenberg Forest reach towards the shore and stretch their branches out over the water. There is silence all around, interrupted only occasionally by the quiet whispers of the leaves or the cry of an owl.

At the South East, the lake is forming a bay, from which one cannot see the small town of Leskow, situated to the West of the lake. The forest is less dense here. A clearing right at the bay would make this spot ideal for swimming, if the shore weren't as muddy just here, and if there wasn't as much reed growing right at this place. As it is, on summer afternoons the families of Leskow prefer to go the "Beach", which is situated much closer to the town at the South Western shore. Of course, the sandiness of the beach is owed to the destruction of the turf by many hundreds of feet, rather than to it really being a beach. Still, the people of Leskow feel almost like at the sea side here. The small bay, on the other hand, is preferred only by young couples who appreciate mainly its isolation.

Right now, however, in the middle of the night during summer break, most young couples are in the only discotheque or in one of the two bars in Leskow gearing toward a younger crowd. Some might also have taken onto themselves the long ride by regional train to the capital, to escape the boredom of their small town home for at least one evening.

The little bay is quiet and dark; untouched by the existence of loud music, smoky heat, flashing lights and the drunkenness that characterizes the weekend for most of Leskow's youth. The reed is swaying softly in the wind. Finally the moon has free view of the bay for a few moments -- one cloud just left it free, the next one will reach it only in a little while -- and in its light something is sparkling in the reed: Something is stuck between its stalks. Something silver, seemingly precious. It might be a necklace or a bracelet.

The silence is interrupted suddenly, the sound of human feet disrupting the quiet night. The clouds quickly hide the moon again, and thus only the silhouette of a man becomes visible, as he marches straight towards the shore of the lake. He sinks into the mud a bit, but he doesn't seem to mind. In the dark, the metal object between the reeds isn't sparkling any more, one can barely see it. The man finds it anyway; his hand disappears into the dark, cool water, grabs the little thing hidden there just underneath the surface of the lake, and pulls it out. Again, the sound of his footsteps in the shallow waters disturbs the silence. He reaches the shore and breaks a few twigs under his feet. Then he is gone, and Lake Leskow is once again surrounded by silence.

In the meantime, somewhere in the little town of Leskow, a young man named Martin is drunkenly swaggering towards his home, while trying with all his might to forget that he has only two more weeks left until the start of the new school year.
***
Martin was not a good student, nor did he enjoy school. He did not enjoy any kind of effort. And since open protest against the tasks life set him would have been an effort too, his attitude made him reminiscent of a thick lump of clay that with enough strength could be forced into any chosen shape, but which would never look particularly elegant in it. It was not only his behaviour, but also his looks that made him seem like a heavy, formless lump.

From his elementary school years onwards, he tried to resist all tasks, like doing his homework or studying for a test, with a stubborn silence -- but only until it started seeming probable that resistance would be harder work than doing whatever was asked from him. He had to repeat the third grade. After that, he learned he had to avoid that kind of mistake, if he wanted to continue the comfortable life he had grown accustomed to. This realization was caused not so much by the beating he took from his father after he brought home his report card. Rather, it were the annoying tutoring lessons and longwinded discussions during which his parents asked him again and again to explain his opinion towards his own failure, that convinced Martin that too many problems in school would result in more work than doing his homework in the first place would have been.

Thus, from that day onwards, his performance was remarkable in neither a positive nor a negative way. Despite not being a dismal student, though, his incapability for independent thinking, abstracting the learned facts, or forming an opinion of his own, caused at least the more committed of his teachers to worry. Martin got through a conversation about this very topic with his sixth grade German teacher by maintaining a stubborn silence and nodding his head just at the right places. The teacher let him go, full of doubt whether her charge had understood her point at all and with growing insecurities as to how to formulate her worries in a letter to his parents. In the end, she refrained from any action she had planned to face this problem, and gave Martin a grade that was high above the one he would have deserved -- maybe due to the guilt she felt about her own lethargy concerning the issue.

Martin's parents urged him to go on with school after the compulsory ten years of education, and prepare for university studies, and even though Martin wanted nothing less than study at a university, he decided it was easiest to yield to their wishes. Thus it seemed probable Martin would graduate from 13th grade in a few years, even if his grades would be well below his class' average.
Martin hated sports, and you could tell just by looking at him. However, he took care not to gain enough weight to find himself on the receiving end of his class mates' teasing and bullying, or worse, to give his mother the idea that he needed a diet. As it was, he was not only slightly taller than the average for a boy his age, but also quite burly without actually being fat. The features of his face weren't unshapely or crude, but even less could they be described as fine -- to call him ugly would have been a gross exaggeration, which would not occur to anyone anyway since his face was much too uninteresting for that type of description. His hair was of a dark, muddy grayish brown, and every other month he cut it down with a razor to a length of just a few millimeters.

For many years Martin was not interested in girls, they were simply one of the many nuisances he had to face in the class room, and he ignored them as best he could. Only when he reached adulthood, he started realizing that he was strangely drawn to these creatures. He did not give himself in to any illusions, however. He knew that the girls in his school, or any other girls he might meet in town, did not like him. They seemed to never even look at him. Nevertheless, he did not concern himself with that too much. For the time being, he contented himself with the occasional magazine he bought at a kiosk, or, since he had reached his 18th birthday, with the porn section at the local video store. On a few occasions, he had a chance for a peek into the girl's locker room after P.E. class, and he took advantage of that opportunity. Afterwards, there was one girl in particular that he could not get out of his mind, a new and disconcerting sensation for him. He thought of her for many evenings while he was lying alone in his bed, and for a while the erotic magazines he was hiding in a nondescript box remained untouched, as closing his eyes and remembering her pale skin and red hair in the greenish light of the locker room was quite enough to give him the desired climax. Eventually, however, the school year was over, and not seeing her during summer break was enough to allow Martin to stop thinking of her.

While Martin was very far from being popular, he never had a lack of friends, since he easily integrated into groups as long as they did not ask him to think independently. He had a reputation of being pleasant company for all those who liked having both the first and the last word, since he never disturbed them with suggestions of his own. In order to not have to argue, he agreed with everything, participated in everything as long as it was not too much effort. At the same time, he wasn't noticeable enough to be missed, when due to a changed balance of power and influence in the school he switched into a new group of friends, nor was his lack of loyalty ever challenged. It was just the way he was.
*
The first day back in school after the summer holidays started with horrible news: Mr. Seger, the mathematics teacher, had suffered a deadly accident the previous evening. Silence gripped the room, and twenty six pairs of eyes were staring in shock at Mrs. Jadrowski, who had entered the class room about five minutes after the bell rung, to bring the sad message to the students of the 12th grade Basic Math Course II. Twenty six pairs of eyes -- but in the room there were twenty eight students.
Two students were not looking at her, two students sitting at the last table next to the windows. One of these two was Martin, who was gazing out the window, as he did so often, the other one was a quiet, red haired girl named Laura, who was looking down at her knees. It is impossible to tell what Martin was thinking of; quite possibly he was not thinking anything at all. At the very least, though, he heard enough of what was being said, to act appropriately and not be noticed.
Laura, on the other hand, was thinking of that fateful afternoon almost two weeks ago, on which she had broken up with her boyfriend Daniel, while they were having a picnic on the small clearing at the Southeastern shore of Lake Leskow.
*
The fact that this had happened on her eighteenth birthday of all days, only seemed to make matters worse. Maybe the high expectations both of them had harbored for this highly symbolic day had played their role in the unfolding of events which had lead to their dispute. Maybe the tension both Laura and Daniel had felt in the days upcoming to this event had needed an outlet, and the worst fight in their relationship had been the inevitable result. After all, on Laura's 18th birthday "it" was supposed to happen.
Laura's parents were conservative even for the standards of their small town home, and had made sure to ingrain in their daughter the idea that sexual encounters at too early an age might have unforeseeable psychological effects -- apart from the risk of getting pregnant. When, a little more than a year earlier, her relationship with Daniel had started becoming more and more serious, the girl had told him that under no circumstances would she agree to anything in this respect before turning 18 years old. Daniel was one grade above her in school and thus more than a year older. However, he proved to be the most understanding and patient boyfriend both Laura and her parents could ever have hoped for.

Laura's parents knew Daniel's family. Not well, but the way most families in a town the size of Leskow know most other families. Laura and Daniel themselves had not had much to do with each other, going to different preschools and elementary schools, until Laura started 7th grade and thus began visiting the same school Daniel was going to for a year already. In fact, though he had never told her, Daniel had started developing a crush on her since the first time he saw her on the school yard a few days into that school year, sitting alone on a bench with her nose in a book, as Laura had been very shy at that age and had needed a few months to make friends with her new class mates. Daniel, while not a shy person in general, had needed several years to muster enough courage to ask the red-headed girl out: If he had been patient since then, what did it matter to wait another year, until she turned 18?
The maturity of both of their behavior had not gone unnoticed. A few months before the appointed day, the trust of Laura's parents had grown so much that they allowed their daughter to go out until late in the evening, as long as she was with her boyfriend. When speaking to close friends, they already jokingly referred to him as their "son in law". Those who knew them well could deduct from these remarks that they hoped he might one day really become just that.

Still, even with their new freedom, Laura and Daniel held on to their promise. Up to Laura's eighteenth birthday they had not exchanged more than kisses, even though Laura had recently felt unknown urges awaking in her, making her desire greater intimacy with the boy she loved. Accordingly, both Laura's and Daniel's expectations for the afternoon of her birthday had been big. They had decided weeks beforehand that this should indeed be the day.

Laura did not want to celebrate her birthday with her friends -- it had been years since she had last thrown a birthday party, to her, such events were childish. Instead, she told her parents that all she wished to do was going on a quiet walk in the forest, just her and Daniel. It was the end of August, a warm and sunny day. Daniel had brought a blanket and a vast variety of food for Laura's birthday picnic, he knew her well enough to choose all her favorites. Thus, after slowly strolling through the forest for a while, the two of them sat down to eat by the shore of the lake, on the small clearing near the hidden bay on the lake's Southeastern end. However, Laura was barely able to eat anything at all -- there was a strange tension in the air. Finally they put the remainder of their picnic to the side, and started kissing so timidly; a passer-by would have thought this was their first date.

Laura was not sure what had happened after that. All of a sudden, they had been in the middle of a huge fight. Of course they had had their disagreements before, but not a fight like this. How had it come to this? Vaguely Laura remembered Daniel pulling a bracelet out of his pocket. He claimed to have just found it, right at the place they had chosen for their picnic. He wanted to give it to Laura. And then? For some reason, she didn't want the bracelet. She had been angry at him, an anger that consumed her completely, that blocked out all reasonable thought. She had accused him of the strangest things. Why? It felt as if she hadn't been herself anymore. Finally she had run off, left the forest, yelling that she never wanted to see him again.
*
A soft touch on her arm jerked Laura out of her thoughts. She looked up and into Martin's round face. He returned her look with his usual, indefinable expression. Oh, how she hated him -- Laura had felt a strong aversion against this boy from her first day at this school. It wasn't like her to feel this way, really. She was the type of girl that saw something good in everyone, and she certainly was not into bullying or excluding people. But she was sure that there was something wrong with him. It wasn't just that he was stupid and seemed to have no mind of his own, it was more. He scared her. It made her uncomfortable that he had touched her. Why was she even sitting next to him? She vaguely remembered entering the room, the whole class being present, and looking for a place to sit, but she couldn't remember choosing this seat. Maybe it had been the only free seat, she thought.
"Didn't you hear?" Martin asked.
"What!?" Laura's voice came out louder than planned.
"Mr. Seger has died. We can go home. Tomorrow there is a memorial gathering in the assembly hall, and then classes continue as soon as they can find a replacement."
Laura looked around. Mrs. Jadrowski was standing near the door and talking to a few students. They all looked sad and worried; one girl was wiping tears out of her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. The others were packing their books back into their bags silently and with serious expressions.
Shocked Laura turned back to Martin, many questions on her mind, but he was already halfway to the door.
*
The memorial assembly started at ten o'clock. It was scheduled to last two hours, afterwards classes would resume -- after all, the new school year had to get started at some point. It was loud in the assembly hall; the principal had to ask for silence repeatedly. He tried to remind the students that this was a memorial service, a moment to show respect. However, for about half the school's students, those who never had had any classes with Mr. Seger, this event was nothing but a welcome distraction in those frustratingly boring first days of school after the summer break.
Laura sat near the door in the back of the assembly hall and was once again staring at her knees. Today, she was wearing a dark knee-length skirt. Normally she preferred jeans, but today seemed to be an occasion to dress a bit nicer and at the same time, as the school was in mourning, to wear black. She had discussed the issue with her mother, and both had agreed that this skirt and a dark blouse were the appropriate attire for this day.

As the assembly started with a long speech by the principle, Laura grew unsettled. She had the strange sensation that someone was watching her. Searchingly, she looked around in the hall. She discovered Daniel about fifteen meters from her. After a few more reminders by the principal to behave befitting to the situation, the students in the hall finally quieted down. Daniel was looking to the front, apparently listening attentively. Laura believed to see that he was pale and had dark rings under his eyes. But that was nonsense, of course, he was sitting much too far away for her to notice such details. She turned away.

Listening to the voice of the principal, reminding his audience of the life and achievements of Mr. Seger, who himself had once studied at this very school, was wearing her down, and making her sad. Laura had liked Mr. Seger. He hadn't been young anymore, at least from his students' point of view, and at the same time he seemed to lack experience of life in the world out there -- but it was just that which was making his students trust him and feel close to him. Most of them had hardly ever left their small town either and although some occasionally tried to rebel, their teacher's old-fashioned conservativeness had been something reassuringly familiar to them. He was just like everything they had known from their childhood onwards.

Of course, Laura had never been particularly good at mathematics. However, since Mr. Seger had once been in the same class as her mother, he had greeted the girl with a friendly smile every morning when he entered the class room, and had been as lenient as he could be when grading her performance, without it becoming unfair to the other, more talented students. And Laura had shown her gratitude by studying all the harder. She was more interested in languages, literature and social sciences; however, she was well aware that the natural sciences and especially mathematics were just as important if she wanted to succeed in life. At least, that was what she had always been told, and willingly accepted.

 

[manjumallu]

Update-2

All these thoughts drove tears to Laura's eyes. She just couldn't stand sitting there any longer, Laura eventually realized. She didn't want to remember at every moment that a person had died; someone that she had known. Last time this happened she had been five years old. That had been one of her grandfathers, her other grandparents were still alive and well. Death had not been part of her quiet little world yet, and thinking about her teacher being gone caused turmoil in her that she couldn't quite grasp. She didn't want to listen to speeches reminding her of his death anymore. And anyway, she had to use the bathroom.
*
After leaving the rest rooms, Laura wandered along the empty hallways back towards the assembly hall. The school building had been renovated just a few years earlier, and so far the students hadn't managed to destroy the impression of clinical cleanliness of the white walls, gray doors and yellowish linoleum floors. Of course graffiti, or more commonly the scribblings of a thick pen, appeared on the walls occasionally, but the perpetrators were always quickly found and had to paint over the evidence of their wrong-doing themselves.
Laura stopped at a window and looked out into the school yard. She gazed at the bike stands that never seemed to provide enough space for all the bicycles. All around them, standing bikes and bikes that had been knocked over were assembled in a chaos of wheels and colorful frames. Behind them, in between the green of some trees, she could make out the dark waters of Lake Leskow. The forest was on the other side of the lake, its lush greenness calling out to anyone stuck in school. Despite the rather sad occasion, it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining down onto the forest, and the lake, and the school. The sky was still blue; it was a glorious September this year. The weather certainly took no consideration for the sadness that had gripped the school.
Again Laura had the impression she was being watched. She turned around, but the hallway behind her was empty, and the silence wasn't broken even by the sound of footsteps. Her eyes fell upon the big clock hanging on the wall at the end of the hallway. Almost 12 o'clock. She couldn't believe that much time had passed. Hadn't she left the assembly hall just shortly after the gathering had started? How could she have spent over an hour in the rest room without noticing? This was strange... Maybe the clock was wrong? Or maybe it had been later than she thought when she had left the assembly? Well, either way, she decided that it wasn't worthwhile going back. Instead, she should rather go up to the second floor and get a coke from the machine there. Then she could wait for the others to come back out of the assembly hall, mix in with the crowd, and go back to class unnoticed.
Yes, a coke seemed a good idea. She was thirsty, and felt a strangely bitter taste in her mouth.
*
Within a few days, the everyday rhythm of the school year had caught up with Leskow's students, and the traumatic message of that first day of school seemed forgotten. A short notice in the local newspaper informed the readers that the mathematics teacher Frank Seger had been buried on Wednesday with only his closest friends and relatives present. None of them lived in town -- Mr. Seger's parents, the only part of his family that had lived in Leskow, had passed away several years earlier -- so firsthand accounts of the burial were hard to come by. His classes were temporarily taken over by an elderly lady who had already spent a few years enjoying her pension. Once she had been feared for being a particularly strict teacher, but by now she was more noted by being a bit confused. She welcomed her return to the school as a nice distraction from her quiet, lonely life as a pensioner and quickly agreed to fill Mr. Seger's post until the regional school administration board would send an appropriate replacement.
In the meantime, as the new school year went on, Laura realized to her surprise that she was sitting next to Martin in almost all of her classes. She wasn't sure how this had come about, she never remembered choosing that particular seat. Whenever she noticed, however, all the other seats in the classroom were taken and the seating already approved by the teacher, so it was too late for her to choose a different place to sit.
She did not spent too much time worrying about this, however, as she had other, more urging problems: Even though she had decided that life must go on and that she shouldn't waste her time crying about the end of her relationship -- it somehow didn't fit the image she had of herself, that she would suffer too much about a boy -- her eyes were constantly wandering across the school yard and the meadow next to the school building in search of Daniel. However, she rarely ever actually saw him; sometimes she even wondered whether he spent the breaks indoors in order to avoid her.
Also, the breakup seemed to affect not only her general mental wellbeing, but even her performance at school. At least that was the only explanation Laura could come up with for why she often could not even remember specific topics ever being discussed in class. Whenever she was asked a question by the teacher or had to write a test, it seemed to her like this was the first time she ever even heard of the things she was asked about. There were bits and pieces missing in her memory, and as much as Laura tried to concentrate on the tasks at hand, it seemed her thoughts were always wandering off during class, making her forget where she was. She was regularly surprised when the bell rang, indicating the end of a school day, since it seemed to her as if she had entered the school building just a few minutes earlier.
Also, she was almost always tired. Once she even fell asleep during a school break, sitting underneath a tree right next to the lake. Her sleep was deep enough for her to miss two hours of history class. All students who were eighteen or older were allowed to leave the school building during breaks and free periods, as long as they returned in time for their next class. Once they had reached the appropriate age, during those last warm summer days most students thus preferred to spend their breaks on a small meadow at the shores of Lake Leskow, right next to the school yard, in the shade of a few tall trees. Here they sat in little groups, smoking and discussing their homework, or playing cards.
Since Laura had only turned eighteen shortly before starting twelfth grade, she had so far not belonged to any of these groups. However, even now she preferred solitude over the company of the other students, and liked sitting by herself under one of the trees right next to the lake, looking out over the water. Usually she had a book in her hand and spent her school breaks reading, a habit dating back to the time before she had started spending most of her free time with Daniel.
On that particular day, she dozed off doing just that, and when she woke up again, she had found the meadow to be completely empty, all students had returned to their classes. A look onto her watch told her that she had slept for almost two hours, but instead of feeling rested, she was more tired than ever. From the slight pain walking back to the school building caused her -- what in the world would her teacher say? -- she deduced, that she must have been lying in a quite uncomfortable manner. In the following class however, mathematics with the new substitute teacher, she was able to concentrate well, her thoughts did not wander off one single time.
*
As every year, the month of September ended with the celebration of the Leskow Castle Festival.
Outsiders often had difficulties understanding why this small town called its yearly medieval spectacle a "Castle Festival". After all, in the area of Lake Leskow not even the ruin of a castle could be found, nor did any of the old documents mention the existence of the ominous castle. As every year, History and German teachers at all of Leskow's schools gave their best to wake their students' interest in the legends of a castle that had disappeared into the lake because of the acts of an evil wizard. Their explanations, however, were usually greeted with bored sighs; the students of Leskow had heard the same stories every year since the start of their education and could not find anything particularly interesting in them anymore.
Despite this, however, they all looked forward to the celebrations, the highlight of which was the diving competition for Leskow's young men. Considering it was the end of September, the divers would have to expect considerably cold water, making their participation a proof of how tough they were. In fact, the diving competition was not only the central event of the Festival, but also the official end of the bathing season. After the diving festival, the beach would usually be deserted and the shower and changing stalls locked.
Laura was one of the few students not planning on going to the festival this year. She knew it all by heart: the medieval looking costumes, the vast amounts of bratwurst and beer, the speeches, the stages on which children presented small theatre performances and local bands tried to win the audience's interest in their music. Apart from somehow not finding all of this interesting anymore, she couldn't help remembering how she had visited the festival together with Daniel in the previous year. And she knew that Daniel had signed up for the diving competition. When he had signed up, a few months ago, he had promised her that he would win "for her". Would he still participate? In any case, she surely did not want to see him dive.
However, she could not stay at home either. Her parents had started noticing her strange behavior of the last few weeks. They had also realized that Daniel was not coming to visit her anymore. While they did not ask questions about what had happened between them, they thought their daughter needed distraction and insisted on her going to the festival. They were planning to go there themselves, sometime later in the evening, and promised to take their daughter along, should she still be sitting in her room at that time.
Laura was not in the mood for arguing, and so she left the house sometime in the afternoon of the 30th of September and, once out of sight of her parents' house, started wandering the streets aimlessly. She met families and groups of young people, all going in the opposite direction, towards the lake and the festival site. The further on she went, however, the lonelier the streets got. Laura liked this; she enjoyed the quiet and let her thoughts wander. For once, it felt like she really had some peace and quiet.
And then, suddenly, having no recollection whatsoever of going there, she was standing in front of the festival site. On a small stage some children were just presenting a play about the legend of the princess in the castle of Leskow, who had fallen in love with a wizard. While a little girl in a pink dress sang the love song of the princess, a little boy in blue wizard robes did his best to show the evil snarl of the wizard, who was already secretly plotting to let the castle disappear into the lake with the princess in it. He would follow her into the lake then, never to be seen again, so he could have the princess only to himself. At the Beach, a group of young men was getting ready for the diving contest.
Laura's heart started beating wildly when she discovered Daniel in the group. He was facing away from her, looking out over the lake, which gave Laura the opportunity to stare at him unnoticed. His dark hair was messed up from the wind; his upper body was still as tanned as during the summer. Something was sparkling at his wrist, and with a little start Laura recognized the bracelet he had wanted to give her on her birthday.
The bulky and pale figure next to Daniel surprised Laura -- it was Martin. Well, Martin was nineteen years old and had thus reached the minimum age for participating in Leskow's diving contest. However, neither Laura nor anyone else would ever have expected Martin to voluntarily participate in something as exhausting, especially when it was to take place under the eyes of the whole town. But there he was. He was wearing only his shorts, and a necklace. When he turned around for a moment to scan the crowds, Laura could see a heavy locket hanging from it. This almost free view of his formless body made him seem even less likeable to Laura, though she reprimanded herself for being so superficial. However, even though he was not particularly heavy, he reminded her of a pile of pudding. Just as she thought this, Martin discovered her and smiled and waved. Laura felt heat rising up to her cheeks and after an exaggeratedly friendly smile back she quickly turned away.
She hesitated for another moment, and then Laura approached the lake, stepping into the crowd of onlookers. Now that she was here anyway she could just as well watch the contest. That way, she would be able to answer any questions by her parents to prove she really had gone to the festival. And somehow, she realized, she still wanted Daniel to win.
The mayor's voice swept from the loud speakers out over the festival site, explaining the diving contest's rules both for visitors and for locals, who might have forgotten everything since the last year. A little box containing the winner's price, the voice said, had been hidden in a marked off area of the lake, on the ground, in a depth of about three meters. The contestants were to look for it underwater and "free the castle", which was symbolized by said little box. The lucky winner was allowed to keep the box and whatever he found inside it, and additionally he would receive a kiss from the "princess". The princess was the winner of a beauty contest that took place every year just before the festival. This year a tall and slender eleventh grader with long blond hair and a somewhat strained smile, dressed up in a medieval looking red-and-gold dress, was standing on the stage next to the mayor, awaiting the happy winner.
Finally, the mayor gave the long-awaited signal to start the contest and eight young men left their spots by the shore on which they had been told to wait. They ran into the lake and threw their muscular bodies into the chilly water. While they quickly swam towards the area that had been marked with brightly orange buoys, the ninth boy, Martin, needed a few moments to splash water against his arms and stomach, before he dared to let his body sink into the cold lake. Once he started to swim as well, with calm strokes, the onlookers' attention was averted back to the other contestants, several of which seemed to have problems coordinating their swimming movements. They either slowed down considerably or inexplicably changed the direction they swam into, so that in the end only three men reached the area in which the box was to be found somewhere on the bottom of the lake. Both Martin and Daniel belonged to these three boys. The other contestants, in the meantime, were too far away now to stand a chance, and thus decided to give up.
All three disappeared underneath the lake's surface at the same moment, as if following a command only they could hear. Now it was a matter of skill, who of them would reach the ground first, and a matter of luck, which boy would end up finding the box in the dark waters of the lake. The people at the beach cheered them on, shouting the name of their favorite, if they knew one of the three young men, or else just uttering general encouragements.
After a while, the cheers subsided and were replaced by a growing murmur. People were starting to get worried. Shouldn't the three divers long ago have surfaced again, one of them with the little box in his hand? Or at least come up for a quick new lungful of air? No one had checked the time, but they seemed to have been gone awfully. Laura couldn't help thinking of Daniel, drifting down there, somewhere in the dark water. She held her breath, worried.
Then, finally, one head appeared above the surface: To Laura's surprise it was Martin, and a moment later he lifted his hand from the water, tightly clutching the little box. It sparkled in the sunshine. He lifted it up into the air triumphantly. Some people started cheering; a certain relief in their voices, and the cheers grew in volume as a few seconds later Daniel's head surfaced from the lake. Both young men now started swimming towards the shore.
But one diver was still missing, and as the seconds passed without him joining the other two, all relief and cheer disappeared from the voices and was replaced by more worried murmuring. Minute after minute went by, however, the third diver did not return.
*
The third diver's name was Peter Grabow, he was twenty years old and had been planning to start university in October to study P.E. and Geography, and become a teacher. Swimming and diving had been his passion ever since he had been a little boy; he was a member of the local swim team and quite likely the best diver in town. In tears, his mother told this again and again, to the reporters of various newspapers, to friends that had come to console her. Sobs interrupted her words, but speaking about Peter was the only way she felt she could cling on to a last bit of sanity.
Daniel and Martin both said they had not as much as touched Peter. He had been with them, under water, but when they dived down, he reached the ground at a place too far away from the little box. When they both got ready to emerge from the water again it had looked -- as much as you could see anything in the murky waters of Lake Leskow -- as if he was still searching the ground of the lake. Daniel added something else: It had looked as if Peter didn't want to swim back to the surface. This kind of comment caused a small amount of suspicion, but a lot of people in town knew Daniel, and no one who knew him could agree with that kind of accusation.
Finally, after the corpse had been pulled out of the water, the story of the two boys was confirmed -- there was not the slightest indication that Peter had suffered through any kind of struggle or had been hurt in any way. It seemed as if he had just swum along the lake's ground until he had drowned.
There were no victory celebrations; the remainder of the festival was canceled. Martin, however, still looked satisfied with his victory. He did not seem to mind that he did not receive his kiss from the blonde princess in the mediaeval dress, but he held on to his little box and refused to show its contents to anyone -- though barely anyone asked to see it anyway. They were all too busy speculating about the cause of Peter's death. The word suicide hung over the little town like a dark curse, but no one dared to utter it directly.
When the first shock started wearing of, Laura searched for Daniel in between the crowd, and finally she found him as he was leaving the changing rooms that had been reserved for the contesters that day. He did not see her, his eyes were fixed on the ground, his expression like a dark mask.
*
Two weeks had passed since the festival. The month of October brought cold wind and plenty of rain to Leskow, the surface of the lake rippled in little waves, the grass turned brown, and the trees lost their leafs almost overnight.
As the weather grew worse, Laura found that she could concentrate better in class now. However, she still was often tired, but now her parents at least found a satisfactory explanation for this: The shock of seeing someone drown -- someone, who once had gone to the same school as her, someone who she had seen in the hallways and on the school yard and even once or twice spoken to -- could not go by without leaving traces in her young mind. Especially when it happened in such short succession after another death of someone she had known. Most people in the small town were shaken, and so was Laura, probably it caused her nightmares and thus made her night's sleep less restful, they concluded. In fact, the girl often awoke sweaty and with a racing heart, and for a few moments she was disoriented. She never screamed when she woke up, nor could she remember her dreams, yet Laura was almost as sure as her parents that nightmares were the reason of her strange condition.

 

[manjumallu]

UPDATE - 3​

Laura woke up that very same way one cold October night, and it took her a few moments to realize that she was safe and at home, sitting in her own bed, the blanket thrown to the side. As every time she woke up like this, she felt exhausted rather than rested. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, while the cold air made her shiver without her blanket. In fact, Laura realized, she felt surprisingly cold for being indoors. She grabbed her blanket and threw it back over herself.

A strange bumping noise echoed through her room again and again. Laura felt her heart go faster, and she strained her ear listening for it. For a few moments she sat still, not quite daring to move again. Then she realized that the noise was caused by the window, shaking in the wind. With a sigh of relief she left the warmth of her blanket and got up to close the window. That movement helped her mind to start working more clearly, and memories of the last evening emerged. She remembered opening the window to let some fresh air in, but she also, very clearly, remembered closing the window again after a few minutes.

Laura switched on the light and looked around in her room. At first look, everything seemed normal. Yet somehow, something wasn't right. When she looked closer, she discovered a few small dark patches on the floor between the window and her bed. She squatted down to observe them more closely. What she found was a bit of mud, some water, and a wet leaf, all of this arranged in the form of a slender, female foot, pointing at her bed. Her heart beating heavily, she looked around in the room once again, but there was no sign of an intruder. She was sure she was alone.
A strange idea appeared in her mind. Laura sat back down on the edge of her bed and lifted one of her legs to take a closer look at her own feet: Between her toes there was some mud, and the soles were dirty too, at the heel of one of her feet, stuck another brown, half-way decayed leaf.
*
Laura started being scared of falling asleep. She also was scared of being awake, though, and most of all, she was scared of going to school. The only route of escape, it seemed, lay in becoming sick. This, of course, was not a conscious decision, but rather one created by her subconscious. However, her body obeyed: Fever overwhelmed Laura, and when one morning her mother found her lying in bed shivering, her face glowing red, going to school was completely out of the question. Laura was dragged to the doctor, who could not find any reason for the girl's sudden sickness other than maybe the shock of the recent demise of two people she had known, and he couldn't do anything other than prescribe some drugs and order Laura to stay in bed for a few weeks.

So there she lay, wrapped tightly into her blanket, half awake and unbelievably tired, but struggling against sleep. This was, of course, a losing battle; again and again her eyes drooped and sleep overwhelmed her. However, Laura did not feel rested when she woke up -- just as she hadn't felt rested during the weeks before her sickness. In fact, her fever seemed to go up each time she slept for a few hours.
Laura's room, which she was confined to now, still looked like the home of a young girl. The walls were pink with the wallpaper she had chosen many years ago and the furniture that was more fitting for a child than for a young woman. However, it was home to her, and she had always felt happy here. There were worse places to spend the long weeks of her sickness.


Her parents entered her room a few times every day, to bring her a thermometer or a bowl of hot water so she could inhale the fumes, or some food or drink. Each time, they looked down at their daughter, their eyes full of sorrow. The doctor had not been able to answer their questions -- it was not clear why Laura was getting sicker and sicker. Her mother had gone to her daughter's school one day, on her way to work, to bring a note from the doctor to the secretary's office. In the hallway, she met Laura's English teacher, who started a conversation. This was a small town, people knew each other, thus the teacher had recognized right away, which student this mother belonged to, and had felt it her duty to inform the woman about the dramatic drop her daughter's performance had taken. After all, Laura had once been the best student in her English class. The mother listened calmly, and promised to have a serious talk with her child once Laura's health improved, but inwardly her worries increased. What was wrong with her daughter?

Laura was her only child, and she and her husband expected a lot from her, especially in what concerned her education. Both of them were convinced that their daughter had a bright future ahead of her, should she make be willing to invest the required energy -- and they wanted to make sure that she did. The longer Laura's fever persisted; however, the less important her school performance seemed to them. It was her health, maybe her very life, they feared for now.

Laura, in the meantime, kept trying to resist her urge to fall asleep. Whenever it happened after all, and she woke up again, she could not remember her dreams, but an uncomfortable feeling persisted, making her think that she must have had nightmares. Vague memories floated near the surface of her conscious, always just a bit too far to grasp them. She tried to concentrate on them, but just before they could take a recognizable shape, they disappeared. More and more often, however, she managed to wake up in the early hours of the morning, jumping up in her bed, her body sweaty as ever. Whenever this happened now, everything seemed to look exactly the same as it had in the evening -- no foot prints anywhere, and the window was always closed.


October was approaching its end, and when November started, it brought new storms and more bad weather. Laura was almost glad to be sick and in bed, instead of having to go outside every day into that horrible weather. However, being at home didn't protect her from catching a cold in addition to her fever, and thus she sneezed and coughed all day long. Only at night, when once again she succumbed to sleep, did her parents not hear her coughing.

*
It was Sunday evening, and once again Laura struggled against the urge to fall asleep. She had spent a few hours reading, but she was barely able to concentrate on the words anymore. Finally she put the book to the side, to focus just on staying awake. In the end, however, she had to succumb to her tiredness, but some hidden corner of her mind continued its resistance, and without being aware of it, she desperately tried to wake up again. This had happened before, but this night was different: Laura had felt stronger and healthier all day, and that physical strength gave her mind more strength. So this night, finally, she managed -- after a few hours, she suddenly jerked out of her sleep.
It took Laura a moment to even realize she was awake, and that it wasn't morning yet. Then, to her surprise, she saw that she was not sitting up in her bed, sweaty and with her heart beating rapidly, as was usually the case when she woke up. She was standing on her feet.
Laura's eyes needed a few moments to get used to the darkness around her, to take in the strange and unexpected surroundings. It was cold, she was shivering in her little night gown. Under her feet, there was a cold and muddy mix of rain, dirt and rotten leafs. Around her, tall trees towered into the night sky. She stood in the middle of the Grünenberg Forest, the forest surrounding Lake Leskow, and she believed to make out the lake's dark waters somewhere in the distance in between the trees. The wind was icy cold, and raindrops ran down Laura's face.
For a few moments, she stood still, paralyzed by the shock. Then she started screaming.

*
When Laura woke up again, she was lying in her bed. It felt as if not more than a few seconds had passed since she stood in the forest. She believed she could still hear the echo of her own scream. One look to the window, however, revealed that it was already morning. The sun was up, though hidden behind the gray clouds that obscured the sky most days this time of year. When she had been in the forest, it had been completely dark.


The thought that she must have dreamt occurred to Laura. It was a comforting thought, a thought she wished to give in to. However, the memory of the cold wind and the rain drops cutting into her skin like icy knifes was too real. The feel of the cold mud under her feet. The ominous creak of the tall trees. Laura doubted any dream could be quite that vivid. And she had never even been able to remember her dreams at all during the last weeks. Also, there was the matter of the open window and the muddy traces on her carpet a few weeks ago.
Laura jumped out of bed to squat down and search to the floor, before inspecting her feet. On first view, everything seemed normal. The soles of her feet were as clean as they should be, after her evening shower. When Laura looked more closely, however, she found some tiny remainders of mud between her toes. It looked as if she had wiped her feet, but hadn't done so thoroughly enough.



She was confused, wasn't sure what to make of this. After all, dirty feet did not prove much. And even if she had, indeed, been in the forest, what did that mean? Was she a sleep walker without ever having known it? Unsure how to proceed, Laura began to further inspect her own body -- first her upper body, moving down towards her legs. When she reached the small of her back, she jumped a bit: Touching her anus with her finger hurt. She was sore there, and the area around it felt slightly swollen.


The more Laura thought about it, the clearer she remembered that a few weeks ago she had felt a similar discomfort between her legs, as if her sex was a bit irritated and swollen, and that there had been a slight sting when she had to use the bathroom. With time, this problem had subsided and she had not thought much about it afterwards. So why would she remember this now? Somehow, Laura had the strange feeling that the two things were related. And yet, it all did not make sense...

*
Slowly, Laura's health started improving. She was not sure why she felt better. Maybe whatever was happening to her had stopped, or at least happened less frequently after that night she had woken up in the middle of the forest. Or maybe it was just her own wish to be healthy again that made her get better. She wanted to regain her strength, a strength she desperately needed if she wanted to figure out what was going on. She wanted to be able to think clearly, not see things through a feverish haze that made everything appear dark and mysterious.


During that stormy day in November, after realizing that something was happening to her, she had crawled back to bed and had been lying there all day wracking her brain. Her head had hurt, and her temperature had risen. She hadn't been quite sure if everything she was thinking might not, in fact, be due to a fantasy caused by her disease. But eventually, she had been able form a plan. A crazy plan, of course, but this was a crazy situation. She was sure that with a clear head, this plan might work to give her some answers. All she needed was to get well again, and so she did. Now that she was able to get out of bed and sit at her computer, she started putting this plan into action.
The first thing she did, when her parents allowed her to leave the warmth of her bed for half an hour a day -- not more, they warned, they did not want her to exhaust herself -- was a little search of internet sites that offered various electronic devices. Sitting in her computer chair, wrapped in blankets, next to her a hot cup of tea her mother had made, she quickly found what she needed: A small digital dictation machine with enough memory to record for several hours.


She could not afford to buy it from her own allowance, but Christmas was close -- Laura just had to find a way to convince her parents that this was what she wanted and needed. This was easier than expected -- they were glad to find their daughter without a fever and almost back to her old, lively self, joining them at the dinner table again a few evenings later. She even announced that she wanted to return to school as soon as this would be possible. The reason for this, Laura explained over the vegetable stew her mother had prepared this evening, was that she had decided on which career she wanted to pursue once she graduated. She wanted to become a journalist, a profession which was well within the range of suitable futures Laura's parents had envisioned for their child. The need of a dictation machine as a means with which to practice interviewing techniques was a logical conclusion.


Laura's father, usually a quiet man, was surprisingly talkative during this dinner. While the storm shook the bare branches of the trees in front of their kitchen window, the family shared a happy meal, Laura and her mother smiling as he named all big and reputable newspapers in the country, in which his daughter should try to do an internship during her time at university -- and maybe, with the help of some of his friends, who knew influential people, even already as a school student, during the next summer break, so she would have a head start in front of others, who might enter university with similar future plans. Laura, who so far had not seriously thought about a career in journalism -- after all, the only reason she had said so was because she needed an excuse to ask for that dictation machine -- got so caught up in his enthusiasm that she started wondering whether becoming a journalist might not really be the right future for her. She went to bed slightly exhausted, after all she was not used to spending meals at the table anymore, but very happy, and slept a deep and restful sleep that night.
*

Two weeks before Christmas, Laura returned to school. Her doctor offered to let her stay at home until after Christmas break, but Laura said she was in fact looking forward to leaving the house again, and besides, she did not want to fall too far behind the other students. Only very few of her classmates seemed to have noticed her absence. Laura had never been one of the most noticeable students; she had good grades but was quiet and had only a few friends. In the last years she had spent most of her time with Daniel and thus even her friends were not used to her hanging out with them. While this meant that now, without him, she was often alone even after her return from her sick-bed, it had the advantage of being able to settle back into her normal routine without having to answer too many questions about her sickness. A few teachers asked her how she was doing, of course, but they were happy with a cheerful but vague answer. Everything seemed back to normal.


When Laura entered the school on that very first day, however, she saw Daniel standing in the hall way with a few of his friends. He was glancing towards the door, maybe waiting for another of his class mates, just when Laura discovered him, and their eyes met. Daniel's expression changed, but Laura did not know how to interpret it. His eyes seemed even darker than usual and she believed to see something like fear in them -- or was it disgust? Then Daniel turned around and disappeared in the bustle of students on their way to their class rooms.
Laura, on the other hand, found herself unable to walk on. She had not seen him in many weeks, and now she realized that she had barely thought of him during that time either. The way he had looked at her, however, the short moment his dark eyes fixated her, made her stomach curl and her legs freeze to the spot she was standing on. This spot, of course, was not the most convenient location -- she stood right in the door frame, and more students swept into the building behind her, pushing her along and forcing her to come back to her senses. For a moment, Laura considered turning around. She could easily have claimed that she did not feel good and wanted to take her doctor up on his offer to give her another two weeks of sick leave. Finally, however, she decided that a return to her normal life was the best thing she could do.


Her legs still felt strangely weak, however, while she entered her class room and walked to the back, to her seat. She could not push the memory of Daniel's face out of her mind. Thus, it took her a while to notice that Martin seemed to not be attending class that day. Since she rarely had talked to him, other than on that first day of the school year, she did not think much about it. After all, with the weather of the last weeks she could not have been the only one who got sick. In fact, several seats in the class room remained empty.
*

Christmas came and passed without any noticeable events. Laura was in good shape again, her fever seemed long ago and forgotten. She enjoyed the rich Christmas meal her mother prepared, as every year, and felt a certain nostalgia celebrating with her family as she had done since her childhood. Her father, it seemed, had invested more than usual into the Christmas tree that year: It was huge, and beautifully grown, and her mother and Laura did their best to do it justice with the decorations. Somehow, each of them felt like they were repeating an old tradition for a last time: Laura was grown up now, and soon their family Christmases might cease to exist in this manner. If that was the case, they wanted to enjoy this one more than ever.


On the second day after Christmas, Laura and her parents went to Bavaria to visit an aunt and celebrate the New Year with her. This was another family tradition; they went there almost every year. Though most of Laura's friends preferred New Year's parties with a lot of loud music and even more alcohol, Laura always participated in the family journey without protest -- after all, this gave her an opportunity to go skiing, which was not possible in the flat area around Leskow that only saw a thin layer of snow in winter. Also, she had never been very interested in the kind of parties most of Leskow's youth seemed to prefer.

Laura had received the Christmas present she had asked for, along with a few books about Journalism and writing techniques -- however, by now she almost started doubting this Christmas wish had been necessary. Since that night in the forest nothing of the kind had happened anymore. She felt well rested every morning, and in the last two weeks of class before Christmas break she had had no trouble concentrating, and had managed to even out some of the previous bad grades with her performance in the newest tests and exams.
The fresh winter air in snowy Bavaria seemed to do her health good, Laura felt better every day. She all but forgot about her worries at home, and spent most of the day outdoors, in the beautiful nature that surrounded the village her aunt had moved to seven years earlier. As it was Christmas break, some of the younger inhabitants of the village spent their days skiing as well, of course with a lot more skill than Laura, but they were friendly and patient in teaching her. She knew most of them from previous visits, but to her surprise more than one of the boys seemed to receive the news of her break-up with Daniel with great interest: Laura was not used to being courted, but she enjoyed the situation though none of the boys was really her type, nor did she have much interest in a long distance relationship. Still, during the week in the South she felt almost as calm and happy as she had before her birthday.
***

Martin returned to school on the first day of class in the New Year. When Laura entered the class room that Monday morning -- as every Monday, the day started with math -- she saw him sitting on his spot, in the back of the room, by the window. He looked up as Laura walked toward him, and when he saw her, a smile crossed his round face. Automatically, Laura smiled back, though she could not stop herself from thinking just how false and unlikeable his smile looked. Like something that did not belong onto Martin's face. Despite these thoughts, she was surprised. Martin did not tend to smile very often. When she sat down, his smile had vanished already, and he had resumed staring down onto some scratch marks on his desk with a vacant expression.

 

[manjumallu]

UPDATE - 4​

The first half of math class went quite well. Laura was rested and in a good mood, she listened attentively and found she had no difficulties in solving the tasks the old substitute teacher, Mrs. Koch, set the class. After the long days of skiing and hiking in the snow, she had spent the evenings catching up with everything she had missed due to her sickness, under the approving eyes of her parents. Even though math was certainly not her favorite subject, Laura could raise her arm various times and give correct answers to Mrs. Koch's questions.
After a few exercises, Mrs. Koch was delving deeper into a new topic. The old lady's voice had grown weak over the years, and her tone of speech had always been monotonous. Despite her best intentions, it became more and more difficult for Laura to listen to her drone. She looked around the room. Two boys in the front row were obviously playing cards under the desk. A girl was reading a magazine, another one a book. Some students had their arms on their desks and were resting their heads on them, others were scribbling into their note books -- it did not look like what they were writing were actual notes.
'Focus', she told herself. She couldn't afford not listening to the teacher. The others had not been sick, they had a head start. Laura opened her eyes as wide as she could, until they hurt, to force herself to stay attentive, and stared at the teacher.
"... and if you want to get to this result in a faster way, you can also skip step three and rather just multiply ..."
What was step three again? Laura didn't remember -- she should have taken notes. She decided to open her math book, maybe there was a better explanation in there, than the one the teacher was giving? She leaned down towards her bag to look for her book ...
... Suddenly the bell rang, and Laura jumped -- she had no idea what Mrs. Koch might have talked about during the last ten minutes. Nor could she remember what she had done instead, what she had thought about -- had she really just spent ten minutes or more searching her bag for her math book? But that was already lying on her desk... She felt a bit like waking up from a short but deep sleep. Also, Laura's behind hurt -- not in a way that might be normal after spending an hour on her hard wooden chair, but rather, as if someone had pinched her repeatedly and quite hard.
Slowly, Laura picked up her things, putting them back into her bag as neatly as always, and left the classroom. While she wandered along the hallway towards the room she would have her next class in, her mind was full of questions and strange ideas. Her next class was history. She liked History. Actually, it had been one of the few classes in which she had no problems even back in October, when everything had gone downhill. Suddenly, she realized that Martin was not taking History. She was sitting alone there.
But not only History, also English and Art class went by without anything remarkable happening -- and those were classes during which he did sit next to her, though he never once turned to look at his neighbor, much less repeat the smile he had given her in the morning.
Still, Laura was worried. This had been the first time in weeks that she had been unable to concentrate, and that a chunk of time was missing from her memory. When it was time to go to bed, she decided that today was the day to try out her new dictation machine. She had sewn a hidden little pocket into the insides of her night gown which was just big enough to hide the little machine in. Before going to sleep at eleven in the evening, she turned it on. She had eight hours until she would have to get up again, and the memory of the machine should be enough for that amount of time.
***
When Laura woke up the next morning, she felt more exhausted than she had felt in a long time. She was sneezing and coughing, and even though she was lying under her thick blanket, she was shivering. Outside, it was still almost dark, and through that darkness little snowflakes danced by her window.
Hesitantly, she removed the blanket, and trembling in the cold, she went into the small bathroom next to her room. There it was a little bit warmer -- her parents believed that it was a waste of resources and money to leave on the heating in her room over night, when she was in bed anyway, or during the day when she was in school. Only in the late afternoon, when she returned home, was she allowed to switch the heating on.
Under the shower, she started feeling more awake, and her mind slowly began working again. Remembering the previous evening, Laura's beat faster: She had started to put her plan into motion. She finished her shower more quickly than she normally liked to. As soon as she had climbed out of the shower, Laura grabbed her night gown, which she had let fall to the floor earlier, and checked for the dictation machine. It was still there. Relieved, she grabbed her towel.
She would have liked best to sit down at her computer as soon as she was done dressing, to check what she had recorded during the night, but first she would have to sit through another long school day, if she wanted to avoid her parents' questions. Before putting her bra on, Laura believed to see a very slight bruising on one of her breasts, and her nipples were, now that she thought about it, particularly sensitive to touch today. They had felt somewhat raw when she had rubbed the towel over them. Laura remembered the other odd things she had observed about her body in the last month. Still, she would have to wait until the afternoon before she would learn more.
The day went by without any event of note; Laura had trouble keeping her eyes open, but managed to listen to what the teachers were saying. However, a few times she caught Martin looking at her, a strangely hungry expression on his face. He turned away quickly each time she looked back, and she was never quite sure afterwards, if she might not have just imagined it.
As soon as she returned home, Laura sat down at her desk and placed the little dictation machine in front of her. Her parents were still at work; Laura had the house to herself as every afternoon when she returned from school. Usually, she first did her homework: She was aware of her duties and fulfilled them without pressure from her parents. Today, however, her curiosity and also her fear were too strong. She had to find out what was going on. Still, for a few minutes she sat motionless, staring down at the silver little machine. Now, that the time had come, she felt her heart beating faster and her fingers tremble. What was she about to learn? To win a few more seconds, she decided to switch on her computer -- if she connected the machine, she would be able to listen to the recording through the speakers, and thus not lose any detail.
It took a while for her computer to start, and while she waited Laura's fear grew. She wasn't quite sure what she was afraid of, but somehow she was sure this was something big. 'Come on', she urged the computer in her mind -- it was not the newest machine, but so far she had never felt it was too slow for her, after all she was lucky to even have one, half of her classmates didn't. Her parents, however, had decided a bit over a year ago that this was one of the new standards of the time, and that a computer and an internet connection would help their daughter in her school work. So far, Laura had indeed used her computer mainly for that. She was not too interested in computers, and Daniel had been the one to help her to keep the machine running.
Finally, it was time. With trembling hands Laura switched the dictation machine on. For a while, she could hear nothing but her own, calm breath and every now and then a creak from her bed, when she turned around in her sleep. Still, Laura listened attentively and did not allow her thoughts to stray.
Finally, after maybe an hour, which meant that it must have been approximately midnight, the creaking sound increased. Laura's bed was old and made of wood, it always made sounds, and Daniel had sometimes joked that the noisy bed was her parents' control mechanism, so Laura would not get up to anything naughty in her room, when he visited her. The sound she heard now, however, could only be explained by her sitting up in her bed. Then it was quiet again, and only when Laura listened very closely to the recording, she believed to make out the sound of soft footsteps, and then another creak, a different one this time, as if her window was being opened. Then there was a short thumping sound, followed by more footsteps, this time more loudly and thus easier to make out, because under those feet Laura could hear scrunching snow.
Laura's heart beat wildly as she realized that now she had proof: It had indeed not been her imagination that made her think she had been outdoors at night. Last night she had left her room through the window, and probably she had done the same thing numerous times in October and November. Waking up in the middle of the forest had not been a dream. She had to stop the recording for a few minutes to think. Finally, her heart still beating wildly, she pressed play again. There was no other way of finding out exactly what was happening to her at night.
For a while, nothing other than footsteps in the snow could be heard. There seemed to be only one pair of feet; her own, Laura supposed. Finally, however, the sound of those footsteps changed -- as if she was indoors now, as if she had entered a place with an old wooden floor. And then, suddenly, there was a voice. It sounded strangely hollow, probably this was the effect of the recording -- it hadn't been the most expensive dictation machine. "Hello Laura," the voice said. "There you are, finally. I have been waiting. Very nice to see you again."
Again, Laura had to stop the recording. 'Water!' she thought. 'I need a glas of water.' She got up and for a moment had to steady herself against her desk. She was dizzy. Then she walked quickly into the kitchen, glad her parents still weren't home and thus couldn't ask her any questions. With shaking hands she opened the cupboard and took out a glass, then walked to the sink to fill it with water. She drank it in one go, and then filled it again. She felt a bit better now.
Leaning against the wall opposite the sink she looked out the window towards the dark night sky. She had to think, but the sound of a key in the front door interrupted her thoughts. It was almost five, she realized, her mother always returned from work at around this time. Quickly Laura retreated to her room. She did not want to have to face her mother right now, she needed to be alone. She still had two hours until their usual dinner time, and she knew her mother would not bother her, as she would assume that Laura was studying or reading.
Laura sat down at the computer again. She had to know what would happen in the rest of her recording. For a few more moments she stared at the screen, gathering up her courage. Then she pressed play again. But the sounds were difficult to interpret now.
Martin -- was it really him? Laura was sure that it had been his voice -- did not say anything else. But she could hear him breathing heavily, could hear a rustling of fabric, and then a thumping sound, as if the dictation machine itself had fallen to the ground. As it had still been securely hidden in its pocket when Laura got up in the morning, she could only assume that he hadn't found it. This could mean nothing other, than that it had fallen to the ground together with her night gown.
The sounds were more distant now, muffled, and difficult to make out. Still, Laura believed to hear Martin breathe, while there were other, inexplicable sounds: rhythmical sounds, a piece of furniture seemed to be shaking first in a slow rhythm, and then getting faster and more urgent. The breathing got faster and louder too, and finally turned into groans. As hard as Laura tried to find good, sane explanation for what she was hearing, she could only come up with one thing.
Her eyes wide in fear, Laura switched off the dictation machine again. She could not continue listening to this -- she felt sick. In the end, she decided to skip over the next half hour of recording, but what followed after that was only the sound of footsteps in the snow, and later on her own, calm breaths as she was sleeping in her own bed.
***
This evening Laura fought against sleep with more desperation than she ever had done. She spent hours in the living room, with her parents. They were watching TV, as every evening, and even though Laura was not particularly interested in the show they watched, she watched it along with them, her eyes glued to the screen. As long as she was sitting on the sofa, cuddled to her mom, she was safe at least. Finally, however, her parents went to bed and Laura was alone. She stayed on the sofa, despite her mother's recommendation to go sleep soon, and watched some typical late-night-movie. However, she was not able to concentrate, her eyes kept closing on their own accord. Finally she decided to go to the kitchen and make herself a cup of coffee. She stood up from the sofa and...
... Laura's eyes popped open. She was lying on the floor. It was not the carpeted floor of the living room in her parents' house, nor was it the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, or the floor of her own room. No, the floor she was lying on was wooden, and it was also very dirty. She was sure she had never seen it before. She was lying on her back, her head turned to the side, and her legs spread wide open -- and there was someone lying on top of her. No, he was not just on top of her, he was inside her.
For one, strange moment the thought "So this is what sex feels like" surfaced and dominated her thoughts. It did not hurt, so Laura assumed that she wet enough, even though she did not feel aroused. She just felt how something hard -- his penis, his dick, his cock, his manhood, her brain suggested different terms to her -- was pushed into her again and again, with great force. Laura felt strangely disconnected from her own body and from what was happening to her. She just took in her surroundings with big eyes, and tried to analyze the sensations, trying to assign meaning to them. Slowly, she turned her head.
Martin's face was hovering somewhere above her. His brow was sweaty, his eyes closed, and the aroused expression around his mouth made him look ridiculous and also somewhat creepy. He was naked, and just like during the festival, when Laura had seen him without clothing by the lake, his skin was pale to the point of appearing blue in the darkness of the room. His body, as far as she could make out, was as formless as ever. From his neck, the same locket was hanging down that she had seen him wearing during the diving contest. He was uttering soft groans that sounded absurd and gross in her ears.
Laura needed only a few seconds to recognize all of this. The shock made her unable to move her body out of the grotesque position it was lying in, presenting itself to Martin, completely open to him, letting him do whatever he wanted to it. Then, however, she seemed to wake up, her numbness subsided. His assault on her sex suddenly felt rougher, made her hurt, and at the same time she found herself able to move.
"No!" she screamed, while hitting her flat hand against Martins pudgy chest. The clash of her hand on his skin echoed through the room. Martin opened his eyes -- for the first time ever Laura realized that they were of a muddy gray that could almost be called colorless -- and looked at her in confusion, and then...
... Laura was lying on her bed. The window was closed, and her night gown was sticking to her sweaty body. She was breathing heavily, as if she had just run a great distance. Between her legs, Laura believed to still feel a little wet.
Somewhere in the distance, the clock of the church tower was striking four times. Laura climbed out of her bed and swaggered towards the bathroom, balancing with the help of her hands against the walls so as not to lose balance. When she did reach the bathroom, she did not take the time to turn on the light, but hurried to the toilet, which she reached just in time before she started throwing up.
*
Laura stayed awake for the rest of the night. She did not have to struggle this time, she was in a state of shock and her body was shaking in disgust. Sleep was just about the farthest thing from her mind. She sat at her computer, a cup of tea next to her, which she had hoped would help her calm down a bit. Somehow, however, the tea tasted bitter, seemed to increase the foul taste she felt in her mouth.
Again and again she listened to bits and pieces of her recordings of the night before, taking notes and writing down the exact times at which she could hear the most obvious sounds. Also, she wrote down any strange event, or even the hint of anything being out of order that she could remember, from the beginning of this school year. There was more than she had realized; little things she had not thought much about, but which now, somehow, all seemed connected.
The sky outside was already changing its color from black to a wintery gray when she was done, and a look at her computer's clock told Laura that it was almost seven. This meant she still had some time left before she had to go to school. She was already dressed, and she needed fresh air, so she just took her school bag and her coat, and left the house without having breakfast. Her mother was in the kitchen -- Laura had not heard her getting up, but was not surprised, usually her mother was up before her. When she heard her daughter open the front door, the mother called after her. Laura, however, did not stop. She just turned around quickly and called: "I have a report today in class. I still have to prepare a bit for that." She caught a glance of her mother, stepping into the hallway, worry creasing her face, before she closed the door behind her. For a moment Laura expected her mother to open the door again, call her back into the house, ask her for an explanation for her odd behavior -- but the door stayed closed.
*
Laura lived only a ten minute walk from her school, and classes wouldn't start until eight. There was time, and the idea of how to use that time appeared suddenly in her mind; it seemed so logical that she did not know why this hadn't occurred to her earlier. She turned around and walked into the opposite direction, away from her house, and the school, out of town, to the outskirts where, not far from the forest, there was the main office of the local police. There were only four police officers in Leskow, it was a small and peaceful town and there was not much to do for them. Laura had been to the police station many times before: The chief was her uncle. Her favorite uncle, actually, and she felt quite certain that she was his favorite niece. If anyone was going to believe her, then it was him.
If anyone was to believe her... There was a big chance no one would, the girl suddenly realized. This was her only chance -- but if it went wrong, what was she to do? For a few moments Laura stood hesitantly by the door, but she had to try. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand, her trembling fingers slowly approaching the door bell. It was early. She hoped her uncle had already arrived at work. She already felt the cool plastic of the bell touch her finger, was about to push against it, when she noticed a strange sensation in her back, as if someone was watching her, she wanted to turn around and check who it was and...
... Laura was sitting on her chair at school. The class room was still empty. The big clock on the front wall, above the black board, told her there was another half an hour left until classes would start. It took her a moment to realize that her arm was hurting. Surprised, she looked down at her body and saw that her arm was behind her back, twisted and held in a painfully tight grip. Next to her, Martin sat in his chair, his face much closer to hers than she would have liked. She felt his breath, smelling of the eggs and onions that he apparently had for breakfast. His lips almost touched her ear.

 

[manjumallu]

UPDATE - 5​

"Don't you dare!" he whispered. His voice sounded strangely distorted, the bored drawl with which he usually spoke had disappeared. "No one is going to believe you. And even if they do, do you really think they've got a chance against me? I could control every single one of them just as easily as I can control you." His breath was hot against her ear. Laura cringed, tried to move away. She did not want him to be so close to her. "I really should give you less freedom," Martin continued. "It is quite obvious, that I have been too nice to you. You are taking advantage..."
His grip on her arm tightened, the pain made Laura groan. And then the feeling of his breath against her ear was replaced by something wet and slimy -- his tongue.
"You are sick!" Laura hissed angrily.
Martin replied with a laughter that sounded more like the giggle of a teenage girl. No, it sounded crazier than that, manic somehow, as it started echoing in her head, the last thing she heard before her mind went blank.
***
The next time Laura woke up, she was lying on her bed. A look towards the window told her that it was night. In the darkness, she could make out the shapes of the trees in her garden moving in the wind and heavy raindrops splashing against her window. She clearly remembered the snow that had covered the ground just yesterday, or in fact, in her memory, less than an hour ago, when she had walked through the crisp morning air towards the police station. Wasn't it much too cold for rain?
She got up, feeling sorry for a moment to leave the warm comfort of her bed, and the reassuring numbness of still being half asleep, and walked to the kitchen. She had to squint for a moment when she turned on the light. Once she got used to the brightness of the kitchen lamp, Laura got a glass from the cupboard and held it under the tab, filling it with water. She looked around in the kitchen. On the table, there was a newspaper; probably her father had left it there after reading it last night, as he did every evening.
Laura drank a sip of water, and then went to sit down at her usual spot, pulling the newspaper closer to herself. Her eyes flew over the front page and soon enough got caught at a headline. Who in the world would break into the museum of local history? There was nothing worth stealing there, just a bunch of old documents and photographs showing views of Leskow from different decades. She started reading.
"In the early hours of Sunday morning intruders broke into the Leskow Museum of Local History. According to the museum director, Mr. Peter Schmitz, PHD, they only stole 45 Euros from the museum's cash register. The intruders broke a window; the noise of the breaking glass attracted the attention of a neighbor who called the police. The intruders managed to flee, however, before the police reached the museum. The neighbor claims to have been watching the place the whole time after calling the police, and it took not more than five minutes for a police officer to arrive at the scene -- how the intruders managed to flee so quickly is yet to be determined."
A strange instinct told Laura that this article meant something important, that it had something to do with her. Maybe the intruders had, in fact, not been able to flee unseen? Maybe the truth was that they had calmly walked out of the museum right under the eyes of the police, and the policeman in question, her uncle or one of his colleagues, just had not done anything to stop them? And maybe he now just did not remember any of this anymore?
Laura decided to cut out this article from the newspaper, to put it to the notes that she had made to show to her uncle. It might be another item with which to prove her story. While she was carefully tearing the article from the paper, her eyes wandered up to the top of the page. There, at the right side, the day's date was printed along with some other information about the paper. Her breath stopped when she read what it said up there: It was the second of March.
*
Martin had stolen almost two months of her life! Almost two months that she could not remember, that were lost forever. Laura was sitting at the breakfast table, staring angrily at the toast she had made herself, but the thought of even trying to bite off a piece made her feel sick. She had spent the whole night searching the house for old newspapers, and getting her dictation machine ready for another session. It was hidden in her pocket now, but she was not sure if she should switch it on yet. She was not sure of anything. She was just angry. Much too angry to eat.
Two months! Why had he let her wake up again just now? Was there any reason or was it just his idea of fun, to torture her with the awareness of how much control he had over her? Or maybe, Laura wondered, he had not allowed her to wake up after all? She picked at her toast, taking a small piece between her fingers and crumbling it. It was dry. No, surely she could not eat this, or anything, she felt much too sick. The idea, however, that she might have escaped Martin by her own strength, seemed like a little glimmer of hope in this otherwise dark morning.
Her research had not yielded many results. Nothing important seemed to have happened in Leskow during the last two months, except for the event at the Museum of Local History and a few more strange robberies. Never more than a little bit of money was stolen. Laura thought about the robbery. Maybe that was the reason she had woken up? Maybe Martin had been distracted in some way, trying to keep his control over too many people at once: The police, the neighbors staring out their windows... But then, why had she only woken up last night, if the robbery at the museum had already taken place the night before?
Laura was torn from her thoughts when her mother entered the kitchen. She looked up and caught her mother glancing over at her. She looked worried. Somehow, it seemed to Laura, her mother's face seemed to be accustomed to taking up a worried expression at her sight. Probably it was noticeable that she hadn't been quite herself during these last months.
"Are you okay, Laura?" the mother asked, her voice tired. "You aren't eating anything. You know, the principal has called me again yesterday. She never has seen such a sudden deterioration in a student's performance. Why won't you tell me what is going on with you?" She sat down at the table and took Laura's hand; her face desperate as she looked at her daughter again. Laura believed to see tears in her mother's eyes. "Please say something. Please talk to me again. I miss talking to you."
Laura pulled her hand away. She felt a big lump in her throat that seemed to make it impossible to speak, and tears starting to well up in her own eyes. Quickly she looked away.
"I've got to go, mom," she whispered. For another second, she hesitated. Then she quickly got up, grabbed her backpack that was ready and standing next to the table and went to the hallway to get her jacket and hastily put on her shoes. Her mother didn't try to call her back.
Only when she was outside, breathing in fresh air, could she pause to think again. What should she do now? She couldn't tell her mother what was going on, could she? Laura felt almost as if it was her fault her mother was suffering. She wondered what exactly her parents were thinking. Maybe they feared their daughter was involved with drugs? Or whatever other explanation people would come up with when someone behaved like she must have during the last two months. The truth, of course, was much too unbelievable, unimaginable. Laura still wasn't sure she believed it herself, but the bright blue spring sky, the trees that started to show the first little bits of green on their formerly bare branches, the crocuses and snowdrops in the garden told her it was, indeed, true.
Laura didn't try to choke back her tears anymore. She had lost two months of her life; she had no idea what horrible and embarrassing things she might have done during that time, against her own will, losing all control of her mind and actions. But she was awake now, and it was a beautiful spring day. Maybe Martin would leave her alone from now on? Maybe he had grown bored with her? Laura barely dared to hope so. It did not seem like him, somehow.
Deep in thought, Laura walked along her normal way to school without realizing. When she looked up to find herself on the schoolyard, which was already bustling with students, it was too late to turn around. And why, after all, should she leave? The more time passed the more hopeful she grew that she could from now on continue with her normal life. As she walked toward the staircase that would lead her into the school building, a few of her classmates greeted her. To her surprise, most of them were people she did not remember ever hanging out with.
In the classroom she sat down at her usual spot. Martin was not there yet. Maybe he had gone? Left town, left her life? It seemed almost too good to be true. But then, suddenly, she had the strange sensation of someone staring at her, a burning gaze that made her look up. She had been right; Martin was standing at the door, his eyes on her. He looked tired, and as if he had been in a fight: His face was slightly swollen, and he sported a prominent black eye. His eyebrows were pulled down, his expression a mixture of anger, determination and, to Laura's surprise, fear.
He did not move from his spot at the door, even though more and more students gathered behind him, trying to shove him out of their way so they could enter the classroom. Martin did not seem to notice them; he focused all his concentration on Laura, not even blinking so he would not have to break his stare. Laura tried to stare back at him defiantly, when she suddenly grew aware of a strange tremble in the air. It felt, as if everything around her took on a different quality, as if the air itself grew thicker, started moving in waves that wanted to carry her brain away with them. Her thoughts became a blur, and for just a moment she still noticed herself grasping on to the edge of her desk, as if she could keep herself present by that physical action, before everything disappeared.
***
Laura felt wet lips pressing onto her own. A tongue was rotating clumsily inside her mouth, intrusive and slimy. She tasted saliva, its taste unfamiliar, felt it running down her throat. Laura wanted to pull away, to escape this kiss that felt more like an assault than like an act of affection, but a hand was holding her head firmly in place, another one on her back made it impossible to escape. Martin was holding on to her, he was too strong.
Finally he let go, and Laura looked around in shock. Her surprise let her forget to protest, to express her disgust with the insults she had already laid out in her mind: She was sitting on the meadow in front of her school, in the midst of a circle of students from her own grade and from 13th grade, almost all of them boys, most of them known to be bullies. Martin's friends. They were grinning at her and Martin approvingly.
Martin was grinning as well. Laura was sure that he meant to smile at her, but his face was just not suitable for that kind of expression -- the strain he had to put into it, took all tenderness out of the gesture and made it seem cynical and hollow. Martin reached out for her hand, took it between both his own hands and held on to it tightly. The pressure was enough to let Laura guess that this apparent sign of affection was meant, in fact, as a warning, telling her to remain quiet, to not betray her true emotions with a single wrong word. Laura guessed enough about Martin and her own situation to take this warning seriously.
"Oh Laura," Martin said with a pathos that must have sounded sarcastic to any of his friends, though they did not seem to mind. "You can't imagine how glad I am that you said that. Yes, I love you too, and everyone shall know it. Everyone should know that the two of us belong together."
Laura's eyes widened, betraying some of her fear. She felt Martin pressing her hand once again painfully, while his friends cheered and seemed to consider the whole situation normal, albeit highly entertaining.
She looked around. The meadow was full of students. Almost everyone seemed to spend their school breaks outdoors today. It was no surprise; after all, it was a beautiful day. The sky was dark blue, and most of the trees already were exhibiting many small green leafs. Laura estimated that it was at least the end of April, if not the beginning of May. The image of the date on the newspaper appeared in front of her inner eye. Once again several months had passed since the last day she could remember. It did not feel like any time had passed, more like she had just been sleeping for a bit, and woken up right here on the meadow.
Then her eyes fell onto someone else, someone that wasn't part of the group with which she was sitting on this meadow or any other group, someone who was not sitting on the meadow at all, but standing near the schoolyard's gate and looking into her direction with a gloomy expression. Daniel. For just a moment, their eyes met. He pulled his eyebrows together. Then he turned around and walked away.
Just then, Laura started feeling the same tremble in the air, she had felt that morning in march as she was sitting in the classroom, staring at Martin's bulky figure in the doorframe: The sensation of the very atmosphere becoming thicker, materializing around her and drowning her, pulling her thoughts into an abyss. She didn't want it. She didn't want to submit to the blackness that started engulfing her every thought. Laura concentrated all her strength on staying in the present, on staying conscious -- and for a few short seconds she was successful. She heard Martin's angry growl, then everything became a blur again.
***
Laura gagged. Her mouth was open, her jaw forced into an uncomfortable position. She felt drool running down the sides of her mouth as something was jammed deep down in her throat. Something warm and hard. Laura's mind tried to fight the realization of what she was doing here, but as Martin withdrew his cock, her eyes focused onto the pale skin of his stomach, onto the line of dark blond hair trailing down from his belly button to his curly pubes. Then he rammed his cock again deep into her throat, forcing her to bury her nose into his pubic hair. He did not smell like he had washed this day. Again, Laura felt the urge to gag. She tried to pull away, but she was kept from it by a strong grip in her hair. He held on to her head and now started to ram his cock into her mouth at a faster pace, barely giving her a chance to breathe.
Somewhere high above her, she could hear his groans. Finally, he slowed his pace again, took another break during which he almost withdrew from her mouth -- just for a moment, just for enough time so he could speak to her. "Funny, isn't it?" he said.
And again, before she could put her thoughts in order, before she could make sense of anything, there was that strange buzz in the air, the feeling of everything turning into thick gel that enveloped her consciousness. Before she could wonder how much time had passed, and how much time would pass before she would wake up again, Laura's thoughts were drowned in the familiar darkness.
***
Laura's father was standing in her room and shouting at her. His face was a dangerous shade of red, one of the veins on his forehead was clearly visible. This was not a good sign. For a moment, Laura was just disoriented, and then she tried to concentrate on what he was saying, to find out what he was angry about. If she could reply well, maybe she could get him to calm down. To have a chance to say something. Tell her story. And maybe, just maybe to find a chance to somehow make him understand what was going on. She needed help, but how could she ask for it?
"... could you ever even have a boyfriend like that? He is impossible! I thought I knew you! And you want to move in with that guy? I just can't understand ..."
He would not stop. He was asking her questions, but his voice, loud and strangely shrill, did not cease shouting for long enough that she could get out even one word. Laura felt tears sting in her eyes, but he would just account those to their fight. Maybe, if she did something strange? She looked around the room, for anything to help her. The room, her old room, the room she had grown up in -- it still looked like always. Clean and neat. If she started throwing books out of the shelves, just to get his attention? But then, it might just make him angrier. It was no use.
When the air started growing thick again, filling her head with mist and drowning her thoughts, Laura considered just resigning to her fate, but something inside her told her to keep struggling, and so she did. To her astonishment, she was successful for a few seconds, while in the background her father kept shouting, without that she could take in the words anymore. Then, however, it grew stronger than her. The last thing she saw was a stuffed animal, a pony that she kept as a childhood memory on the top of her bookshelf. Then everything grew dark again.
***
Darkness. Someone was snoring in the darkness. Laura was lying in a bed, the warm cover felt heavy on top of her. The window was open, but the breeze blowing into the room was warm as well. It had to be June at the very least, the warm air told her. Somewhere in the night she could hear a nightingale's song, intermingled with the distant roar of a car. Was that a real nightingale or a thrush nightingale? For a moment she was tempted to ponder the difference -- that was certainly easier than starting to think about where she might be.
Reality couldn't long be kept out though. Next to herself, Laura felt a heavy body, heard even breathing. She did not dare move; she did not want to wake Martin. She was lying with her back turned to him, and could feel his squashy stomach touching the small of her back. He seemed deep asleep.
Why was she awake? Why was she conscious? The last few times it had seemed to Laura, that Martin had allowed her to become conscious on purpose, as another means of torturing her. He wanted to show her the extent of the power he held over her. Those glimpses of reality lined up in her memory like things that happened just moments apart. Moments that made her shudder in disgust. Her desperate struggle against his control, when he wanted to subdue her again after just a few seconds, seemed to only have happened a few seconds ago as well.
Was this a late effect of her struggle? Had she just woken up from her own free will? Some residue of the resistance she had tried to put up against him back then -- maybe months ago, or weeks, or maybe just today -- there was nothing in her last two memories to indicate the time of year they had happened --? It had to be like that. Vaguely, Laura remembered other times she had woken up at night, when it did not seem like Martin's plan for her to do so. Maybe his power was not as strong when he was asleep.
Laura lay as still as she could, she did not want to wake him. She had to put her thoughts in order. Martin should not find out that she had been awake. Her resistance was growing, she realized, and she should not let him know that. Maybe, with time, she could learn to rid herself of his control altogether? But she had to think. There had to be some secret behind his power, and she had to find out what it was.
Without realizing it, Laura turned to look at Martin, as if in hope to recognize his secret by a long look at him. The mattress moved, she turned too suddenly, and before she could feel him stir Laura already knew that Martin was awake. Her first instinct was to jump up, move away, leave the room, but she lay still, hoping he might think she was still asleep, that she had just turned in her sleep. She felt him sitting up, felt him move his massive frame over her, and then she saw his face. Sleepy and incredulous.

To be continued.....