Two To One
By: E.R.M. Griffin
CHAPTER 2
Professor Crane remained in the empty classroom long after the last student had left. His hands moved almost systematically, gathering stray papers about the individual tables and piling them all on his desk. He preferred the students to leave their assignments sitting on their desks, being almost repugnant of them lining up in front of him. He supposed it was an after-effect of his youth. He had always been somewhat anti-social.
The spider he had presented during the lesson now sat idly in its little plastic cage, frozen still in a corner. It stared out to the near-empty classroom almost hypnotically. After a moment, Crane walked over to it and tapped the small tank lightly.
"Comfortable in there, you hairy little monstrosity?" He asked it, though his voice retained a good natured quality. "You served your purpose rather well today."
His thoughts turned back to the lesson, snippets of it coming to him in no particular order. The lecture, the shocked look on the faces of some of the freshmen, the little debate with Jack Stoker regarding his morals. Then the new student. He found he couldn't remember her name. She had been out the door first if he remembered correctly.
In last, out first. How promising. He grimaced inwardly. No potential to be anything more than another mindless drone amongst these others.
It sickened him, to be utterly honest. His students, his fellow 'teachers'. His so-called peers. None of them displayed any qualities past those base human traits. Cowardice, prejudice… Sometimes he hated having become a teacher. It reminded him too much of his own school days. Those he would much rather have forgotten.
They still talk about me. Not to my face this time, naturally. But they still do all the same. Nothing ever changes.
He felt a familiar rage well up in him as flashes of the past made their way into his mind. High school, even college. He had assumed things would get better in college, but how could he expect maturity out of those who had abused him all his life.
Crane leaned forward, his face inches from the spider's own. "But I suppose some things have changed, haven't they?" He smiled.
It was a cold smile. Cruel.
What are you thinking?
She winced, rubbing her temple gently. Staring out the window, she almost reached for the bottle of codeine beside her.
"Nothing, I guess…" she trailed off, not really sure what it was she was thinking about.
You are thinking about yourself again. As a whole self. You.
"Yeah." She replied, defeated. There was never any point in lying. Not to herself. Not to it.
The moon was out, a half-slit in the black sky above. There were no stars in the sky above Gotham, making the inky blackness above all the more intense. Somewhere outside, she heard laughter, then moments later watched a group of teenagers walk by, heading to some place or another.
You wish to be with them?She thought a moment, not really sure. "No."
There was silence then, from inside.
From down below, the sounds of her parents moving about. Her mother was cooking dinner. Smelled like mashed potatoes and some sort of meat. Chicken, probably. Average. Her father was most likely watching television, or already sitting at the table.
Elena slept little that night.
The first thing that anyone would have noticed would have been the screaming. It was mournful, almost tortured. No longer strong enough to be keening, but still disturbing. There was also more then one. A cacophony of shrieks, fearful and strained. Exhausted.
He paid them no mind. His concentration was too drawn to the objects spread out before him. Test tubes and beakers bubbled and steamed ominously on the crude wooden table. The basement-room shone with an eerie green light. The mist rising from the table looked almost radioactive.
Off to the side, a female voice begged. "Don't touch me…please…. Please, I don't want to, please stop it!" Her cry continued on, eventually evaporating into a strangled moan of despair.
He paid her no mind, hardly even aware she was there.
Her companions, lying nearby in crumpled heaps, certainly didn't move to lend a hand. Some were far too worst for the wear then she. Nobody would help. There was nobody there but him anyway. The house was otherwise empty, Looming large and lonely on the hill.
"Please...please....let me go..."
The moment of clarity caught his attention, and he turned his head. His blue eyes regarded her with a mixture of hatred and satisfaction. They traced the path of her chestnut hair, matted unevenly around her sweat-stained face. Her wild eyes, darting between him and her imaginary assailants.
"Sherri?"
His voice produced only a trace of a reaction. A brief flittering of recognition in her dead eyes. A second later, they retreated back to their feral stare. Looking this way and that.
He turned back to his work, his brief interest gone.
The screams continued, uninterrupted.
Gotham's morning news was scarcely ever good. That day seemed to be no exception. The media seemed ever intent on starting ever citizen's day on a bad note.
"Another young woman was reported missing by her friends after failing to return home from work nearly three nights ago. Sherri Squires, aged…"
The newscaster, a pretty blonde thing in a rather revealing white blouse went on to explain how the newest victim's relations and friends were all so very worried for her safety. So afraid she had been kidnapped by some unknown fiend in the night.
Elena turned the tv off with only a hint of disgust on her face. She was so tired of it all. There was nothing ever positive in the morning news.
"Good news never sells!" Her father had once told her.
Interesting, is it not? She winced, swallowing two codeine pills with her orange juice. Humanity is ever so concerned and appalled with such matters. And yet they crave more. As the Romans with their gladiators and their lion spectacles. Truly, nothing ever changes.
The pain faded slowly.
Packing up her books and lunch, Elena made sure to leave the house early that morning. Gotham University was still somewhat deserted, the majority of the students usually never arriving until at least ten minutes before the start of most lessons.
Walking the lone hallways, she passed random people. A few scattered students, mostly teachers. A janitor washing an odd looking spill near the stairs.
Finding the classroom again proved less difficult the second time around. She arrived almost twenty five minutes before class was scheduled to begin. Elena took the time to settle herself in the desk she chosen the previous day. It was at the front, but closest to the door. After she had unloaded her books and assignment, she took the time to look through the rest of her timetable.
As she read over the names of the classes, and the teachers she barely knew, she wondered why it was she was here.
Elena had long ago given up the idea that it had anything to do with personal goals or ambitions, so much as personal problems…
The flashback was quick and strong, pulling her into the past as she sat there, staring into space.
"LET ME GO!" She was screaming, tears pouring down her face as the man dragged her through the alley.
He hadn't, of course. What kind of a rapist would he have been then? What kind of murderer…
A horrible pain.
"Ms. Sutherland?"
A burning, blinding pain.
"Ms. Sutherland?"
Eventually, numbing into nothingness.
"I truly hope you will not be displaying this sort of attention throughout my class!"
She was snapped out of it suddenly, the memory fading and her immediate surroundings melting slowly into view. The classroom, warm and safe. No longer empty. Her Professor stared down at her, a highly annoyed expression on his sharp features.
She blinked up at him, only to feel her face flush seconds later. She tore her brown eyes away, staring down at her desk.
"I'm sorry Professor, I was just…"
"-Daydreaming?" He sighed, waving her excuse away. "Never mind Ms. Sutherland. At least tell me you managed to complete your assignment last night." He reached out his hand expectantly. "Well?"
"Oh…yeah…" she flipped through some pages in her folder before finding the necessary work and handing it to him.
Her first assignment, a study of what she considered closest to her own phobia.
"Sociophobia?"
Professor Crane raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised. He looked at her skeptically, not really believing that much. She didn't exhibit the usual signs of someone sociophobic. After all, he would have known best of all.
"Sort of, I guess…" she coughed uncomfortably, not liking the scrutinizing expression on his face. "It was the best thing I could think of."
"You hardly strike me as someone with a deep fear of other people…" he trailed off, his expression remaining the same.
Why you fear at all, is beyond me… Elena winced, "Well, I…"
The classroom's silence was suddenly broken as the first of the students began trickling in. Without another word, Professor turned away and walked over to his desk, busying himself by arranging the marked assignments on his desk.
Author's Note: Comic fans will recognize Sherri Squires, a girl who was partially responsible for some of Crane's early trauma. As for "the voice in Elena's voice", it shall be revealed soon…