I am reviewing some feedback Elias left me on my last two reports. He of course brings up the fact that I severed the Rotskin before getting his approval, but it is not demeaning like I expect. I am not sure why I acted without his approval, but I suppose I wanted to surprise him. I expect my formattings for reports to continue changing with his feedback, but I can shelve the ones he's approved for good.
I can toss some of these boxes and size down some of the storage methods for the objects I have neutralized. I have been working so hard to get a chance to make my office cleaner as well as the whole of Artefact Storage. It is going to be a lot of work, but I think I am making good progress. It has not been all that long since I came here. The more well lit areas seem to be less well today. I push away an old feeling. I am just nervous, I think.
A shelf behind me creaks. The clock ticks as loud as ever. I hear someone knock on a shelf nearby. "Helen, another of the archival assistants is coming by."
Before I can ask my coworker when they will be here, he is gone, vanishing into another area of the storage. Coward.
"Helen, right?" Her hair falls in all the right places and her glasses soften her already gentle face, her eyes are like deep pools of light, and when she walks she parts the quiet. If I did not know she was from the archives, I would have been able to guess it from her appearance alone.
"No, that's Helen," I gesture into empty space. She doesn't laugh, instead offering me a smile as she lingers in the doorway.
"Ah, you must be the one that worked here before me."
She nods her head. " Indeed! I'm Sasha" she offers me her hand, taking a timid step forward. Not another handshake. I hate these archivists. "I wanted to drop by and say hi, I've heard so much about you from Martin and Tim." What in the world did they have to say about me? I sometimes sneak a cup of tea with Martin, and I have spoken with Tim a whole three times.
The clock ticks, and she takes another step, exploring. "It's looking nice. You're definitely the right person for the job." I tuck the Leitner I had been inspecting back into a clasped box. It needs more attention than I can give it while being in conversation with another. "You just look so comfortable." Her fingers run along the edge of my desk, examining for dust. There is none to be found of course. I have been cleaning.
"And you don't look comfortable."
Nervous laughter bubbles past her lips, she yanks at a thread on her cardigan. "I never liked it here." Her cardigan is thick. I suppose it is a tad drafty here. It seems almost colder today.
"Yeah, same!" That same look of puzzlement that Tim gave me crosses her face. She almost has some of his mannerisms. They probably spend a lot of time together.
"Why did you come?" I am about to respond, but she continues, "And, I mean like really."
"I got tired of reading books at home." I have my hands folded as I give her my full attention.
As she turns her attention away from the artefacts, she seems to find a little bit of ease in conversation with me. "Have you ever experienced things?" Her eyes no longer wander, but she motions her hand about the room, her other hand is tucked behind her.
"Nope," I tilt my chin, "not particularly."
"That's nice. Martin mentioned that you like tea."
"I guess." I love tea.
"I wanted to give you a gift because you're new, so I brought you this." She hands me a small red bag, she was hiding in the hand behind her back. I look at the bag, and then I look back at her. "Are you going to open it?"
I reach into the bag and pull out a strong blend of black tea. It looks like it must be from some small local business. "Wow, this looks lovely. Thank you, Sasha."
"If you ever need a bit of fresh air, you should take a walk about the institute with Tim and I."
"I would love that!" She says a quick goodbye, and scampers away. It appears that she can stand to stay here no longer.
I return to inspecting the Leitner. It is a bit stronger than some of the objects I have been working with, but I think I will manage it just fine. It manifests much stronger than many others.
When I open it, it does not want to close. It fights with me. The text on the page seems to bleed together, shadows reaching out from the page. I push back, reading what I can. I am trying to identify if it is tied to the Dark or the Lonely. The clock stops ticking. It hurts. My hands are becoming tired, and the lights seem to be getting more and more dim. The quiet creeps and my heart picks up pace.
I can't stop it.
I cannot. "No. No. No. Please." My grip falters. Pages in the book turn on their own, tendrils of darkness creeping up my fingertips. I don't understand. I don't know anything. I was a fool to think I could handle this. Maybe I was better off doing what my mother asked. I am losing control. I am not qualified to be doing this. I do not know what I am doing! My blood roars in my ears, and I can feel every beat of my heart.
A shadow curls around my pointer finger and blood seeps out in the places it grasps. Another page turns. The more pages turn, the faster the shadows creep. Darkness haunts the edges of my sight, and I will never be able to read any of the words. A knock against a wall, but nobody is there. Nobody calls out to me. Nobody will ever help me. I am nothing.
My breath rushes out of my lungs in handfuls, and I can do nothing to stop it. I can hear nothing but the sound of my own blood, roaring and dripping. A puddle forms around me. I am standing in a puddle of my own life, and I cannot stand it. I try to step back and gather myself, so I can force it closed. I am still trying even now. Even now.
I slip in my own blood and lose grasp of the book. Pages fly, and I am enveloped in a cold embrace. I am going to die alone. I am going to die down here. My blood is not as warm as I expected it to be. All I wanted was to get away, and I am still alone. It is really going to take me, isn't it? She wins. I close my eyes, reaching and feeling for wherever the book landed. I do not want to die like this. I don't want to die.
Look at me.
Someone is calling my name, but that cannot be. I feel my hands on the book. The cold starts to thaw. "I said look at me." Hands on mine force the book shut with a clap. An echo breaks the grip the quiet had on me. All that I can see are eyes. These eyes do not belong in that face. The shadows are gone, and my vision clears.
"Peter, leave. We will have this discussion another time."
"You always say that." Footsteps leaving. Eyes.
I cannot hear much above the sound of my own rushing blood.
"I am sorry," I say.
"Do not ever be sorry. There is no point in it here." He guides me into a free chair. I am still struggling to find equilibrium. I can make out the buttons on his shirt, and the emerald green of his vest as he moves around. The sound of something being unclasped and items being jostled make their way over to me. A sting travels up my arm, and I flinch. I cannot seem to find any sense of control. A hand clamps around my wrist and it pinches at my skin. "Relax. I am disinfecting it."
"Am I going to die?" His grip is ever tighter.
"Do not be ridiculous."
"It's not ridiculous. I am going to die someday." I feel better, warmer. Strength is returning to my fingers, and I am watching my boss bandage my wounds. It strikes me that he is far too good at this. He knows exactly what he is doing. I am no longer bleeding, and the bandages press into me. Though, I know the bleeding lessens with the book being tucked away, its hold on me severed.
"Not to any other power. Not while I require you here. Do not let a moment of weakness define you." The Darkness that once overtook the room is replaced with a strange heaviness. Before I was unbearably alone and in the dark, but now I could never mistake the emptiness for not being watched. There is a strange sense of comfort in it.
"I do not understand, Elias. I am not any good at this. I don't know what I am doing."
"You will." He ties off the last of my bandages. "You need to rest. You should head home early." I do not want to go home. I do not want to leave. Don't make me go.
"Can't I just feed on another artefact to recover instead?"
"You need rest. Do not let these things consume you."
My bottom lip quivers, and I wish it wouldn't. I hate when I cannot hide myself. "I am scared, Elias. I don't want to disappoint you. You say I am the person for this job, but I don't think–"
"You are, and you are not a disappointment. The pain, the fear, it will make you stronger. You are just a work in progress. Go home." At those words, I could see his jaw wiring shut. There is no more conversation to be had. I sniffled. "Are you going to make me walk home like this?"
The tight clasp on his jaw unravels, "I can call you a cab."
"Can't you just take me instead? I know you."
His eyes rush over mine, searching for something. "If only to make sure you do not do something stupid. Come along now." He strides off, so I have to rush to match his gait. I wonder if he understands me. Coming here taught me that I want so desperately to be known, and you cannot do that alone.
He is wary the whole time. He does not drop me off at my flat, instead walking me all the way to the door as if he thinks I am going to run all the way back to the institute against his orders.
I sleep with all the lights on tonight. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will be better.
