A Battle of Minds Ch. 01

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.