A Battle of Minds Ch. 01

"Laura?" he mumbled.

Then the strange quality to the air returned, everything seemed to become thicker and darker, blurring any thought in her head and pulling her in. Laura struggled; she tried to concentrate on keeping control over herself. The shock in Martin's expression grew -- he had not expected her to fight. For a short moment, Laura's mind cleared up again, and just then, her eyes fell on the locket that was still dangling down from Martin's neck, suspended by a long chain, and gleaming unnaturally in the dark room.

'Of course! The locket!' was all she could think, before Martin had regained his composure, and the darkness that drowned all her thoughts won her over once more.

***

Water, everywhere water. Above her, underneath her -- water. Where was above, and where was underneath anyway? Laura turned around, panicked. She swam here, swam there, without knowing if she might not be swimming further away from the water's surface. She swallowed slimy, bitter water. Her lungs started screaming for air, soon she would have to open her mouth, and flood them with more water.

Somewhere above her she could make out a dim light. She moved towards it with her last strength, and a moment later, her head broke through the surface of Lake Leskow. Air rushed into her lungs, and for a few moments Laura could not concentrate on anything but breathing. The air felt harsh in her lungs, yet she craved as much of it as she could get. Finally, her breath and the beating of her heart calmed down, and she started looking around.

The lake was bathed in bright sunlight, its reflections dancing on the waves. The air was not as cold as it had felt at first. In fact, it was quite warm. The air smelled of summer, of trees and flowers -- though those trees were quite far away from her; Laura was in the middle of the lake.

The shore closest to her was the southeast corner of the lake. Laura could see the little bay that she had not visited since her 18th birthday. She was at least 50 meters away from it, however. After hesitating one more moment, to look around the lake and find that there were neither boats nor swimmers to be seen anywhere, she started swimming towards that bay. She was surprised how nice it felt to be swimming; she had never been a great swimmer after all. But the fact that she felt her arms and legs finally obey only her own wishes, and the feeling of the velvety water rushing by her naked skin, all this made Laura feel alive. Too alive, to want to think yet about what she had been doing in the middle of the lake, under water.

Only when Laura had reached the shore and was stepping onto land, Martin left the shade of the trees between which he had been hiding. He grinned at her, his expression devoid of any friendliness. "As you see," he said slowly and coldly, "I can kill you whenever I want, and no one will ever know it was me. So think well, before you try to resist me again."

Before she could reply, Laura once again felt her consciousness being enveloped by darkness -- and this time, she did not dare to fight back. As everything went blurry, she heard Martin's voice once more: "Oh, by the way: Happy birthday, Laura."

***

Martin groaned. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, giving him a yet more stupid expression than he usually wore. He had propped up his upper body with the help of both arms, his head was somewhere above Laura's, his face turned upwards. His stomach rhythmically slapped against hers, with every thrust he did, and Laura could feel his sweaty skin against her own.

His cock was sliding in and out of Laura's sex with ease; she did not feel pain or even physical discomfort. In fact, she felt something like a slight arousal. Physically, that is. Her body, surely accustomed to Martin's proximity by now, was reacting to the intrusion into her sex. In her mind, on the other hand, all Laura could feel was horror and disgust.

Martin groaned again, he was trembling slightly. He had to be close to his climax, Laura realized. He seemed much too engrossed in what he was feeling to realize that she was conscious. His thrusts grew more violent, and to her surprise Laura realized that her body liked this, craved for more, anticipated each new thrust. For a moment she considered closing her eyes, ignoring who he was and why she was here, and just giving in to the sensations he started causing her.

The touch of something hot and metallic against her chest made her forget any such ideas. The locket! Laura knew that Martin was still wearing it on a chain around his neck, even before she looked down and saw the little thing glimmering in the dark, jumping up and down against her chest, in the rhythm of his movement. Under Laura's gaze, the locket seemed to grow brighter. She almost thought the thing was winking at her. Mocking her, showing off the fact that not Martin, but it, an inanimate little object, was who really stood behind everything.

And yet, she couldn't look away. She stared at the thing, barely even registering Martin's presence in the room, inside her. Something drew her. The locket seemed to hum with power emanating from it. Its touch, again and again against the soft skin of her breasts, was hot, almost burned her skin, and yet she did not find it uncomfortable. The locket seemed to call out to her, promise her a way to end all her suffering -- everyone's suffering. Did one have to wear it, to use its powers? Or could she, maybe, control Martin with its help even now, just as much as he was usually controlling her?

Now Laura closed her eyes, but not to give in to any false sensation of arousal her body had created to cope with the unwanted intrusion. No, in fact she barely noticed anymore what exactly Martin was doing to her. The touch of the locket, warm metal on her skin, again, again, again, created a rhythm that was stronger than beat of his pallid flesh slapping against hers. Laura listened to that rhythm, as if it was a heartbeat, searched for a voice belonging to that heart. Searched for it through her head, her mind, through whatever, searched the room, the darkness, the air. Searched for that strange feeling of everything growing thick, that sensation she could barely describe. She wanted to find it, just as it had found her before. And suddenly she believed to have found something. There was a connection between Martin and her, a connection he had forgotten to keep under his control.

He took up the speed of his thrusts, burying his cock deep inside her, arhythmically now -- he was indeed close to coming -- almost distracting her, but Laura was too desperate to allow herself to miss such a chance. Martin groaned once more, pressed his body against hers, Laura felt his weight, felt his sex twitching inside hers, felt the spurts of his hot seeds, but all she could think was that the moment had come.

Now or never, she thought, and reached out to that connection, for the power of the pendant that she could feel as clearly now as if the power itself was a thing in front of her she just had to grab. She spun her mind around it, concentrated on it with all her might, concentrated on the power of the pendant, and on Martin. Besides the hot and golden glow of the pendant, her mind found something else, something tepid and bland, without much strength of its own. Martin's mind. Laura concentrated on it.

Both of their eyes opened at the same time. Laura could not help smiling, as Martin stared at her, wide-eyed. She could still see the arousal on his face, before it was replaced by questions and confusion, and then by panic. She smiled and did not move, but inside her, her mind was fighting the hardest battle she had yet fought; fueled by the disgust and humiliation she had accumulated over the months, she concentrated on the thought that she wanted him to stop, that she did not want to feel his touch anymore, that she wanted him to let go of her.

These thoughts, her hatred and her fear, were like needles she was throwing at him -- but suddenly these knifes seemed to dull, seemed to be held up by a layer of protection. The familiar sensation of the air growing thicker around her, of darkness drowning her, overwhelmed Laura. Martin was fighting back. Laura's thoughts became confused, she was losing control. It was so tempting to give up, to allow her mind to be dragged back into a darkness that, in the oblivion it brought, was comforting. Thinking became almost painful. Why would she want to face a reality that could never be the same as it had been a year ago, anyway? Why would she want to feel Martin's weight on her, know what he had just done to her?

For a moment, Laura relaxed, stopped struggling. Numbness flooded her body. Then, however, her eyes caught the locket's sparkle again and she knew she had to act. She tried to lift up her arm to grab it, pull it off his neck, but her arm refused to obey her mind, it was like dead, didn't belong to her body anymore. It wouldn't move.

Laura gathered all her concentration, and stared into Martin's eyes. She was not going to give up; she wanted him to get off of her, right now. She could feel that he had grown soft inside her, and she felt his semen drip out of her sex, running down towards her rosette. Her disgust turned to fury, and it was this fury she was concentrating against him now, without ever moving, but with all the strength she could gather.

Martin's body started twitching, his eyes grew unfocused. And then, suddenly, his body flew away from hers -- yes, he was indeed flying through the air, as if a great power, maybe an explosion, had thrown him off her. His heavy, naked form was describing a perfect bow through the room, and then slapped against a wall three meters from Laura, from which he slid to the floor and remained there, a motionless heap of flesh.

Laura sat up with a start. As she gulped for breath, the air rushed back into her lungs -- only now she realized that she had been holding her breath all that time. She felt light, all of a sudden, without the weight of Martin's body on top of her. She still could feel some of his sweat on her skin; felt his juices mixed with her own between her legs. But her head was as free as it hadn't been in a year. There was nothing there anymore, that tried to drag her down into darkness. If Laura had ever wondered what it might feel like to be able to fly, this would probably come closest to the sensation she would have imagined.

For a while she just sat there, staring out into the dimly lit room. There wasn't much in there, just the mattress she was sitting on, some dirty curtains in front of a small window, a tiny rug on a linoleum floor, a half empty book shelf on one wall and some clothing piled up on top of a chair. She was strangely curious -- to see this place that everyone thought of as her home, and to see Martin, investigate whether he was still alive. However, she waited. Despite the newly discovered power of her mind, she felt weak physically. Finally, Laura managed to stand up. Her legs were shaking as she stood next to the bed, and her first steps felt as if she had not walked in months.

Slowly, she approached Martin's motionless body. Pale, formless, not quite fat but nearly so, he was lying on the ground, his legs and arms twisted away in a strange manner. The necklace with the locket had slipped off his neck and was lying on the floor next to him. Carefully, Laura knelt down and picked it up. Again, the metal felt strangely hot in her hand.

Laura stood up again, and observed the glimmering piece of jewelry in her hand more closely. It looked old, and on its front a crest was imprinted, showing a bear, a tree, and a castle on an island. The crest looked vaguely familiar, but Laura couldn't quite remember where she had seen it before. It was beautiful, though. For a moment, she felt the strong urge to put the chain around her own neck.

It seemed to Laura, that the locket shortly glimmered more brightly, as if it was agreeing with her idea. And maybe it was this glimmer that reminded her of everything the locket, or Martin with the locket's help, had done to her. Loudly she said "No!" as if the sound of her voice would give her more strength; break the spell this glimmering little piece of metal was casting over her. Quickly she closed her fingers around it. She did not want to see it anymore. In her hand, the locket remained warm and it seemed to Laura like she could feel it pulsating, like a heartbeat. Only after a few moments she realized that what she felt there must be the pulsating of her own blood through her veins, because she had her hand closed so tightly.

Instead of looking at the locket, Laura decided to investigate the room a bit more. From the little she understood by her last conversation with her father, she had moved in here with Martin. When? By the look of the room it could not have been more than a few days ago, but who knew? Martin did not seem the type of person who put furniture or cleaning very high on his list of priorities. And it was not like she had had much of a say in their relationship. Relationship. She shuddered at the word and threw another glimpse at the heap of flesh that was Martin. He was breathing, she could tell that much, but he didn't look like he would wake up any time soon. The mixture of disappointment and relief she felt at the realization that he was, indeed, still alive, confused Laura and she pushed any thought of him out of her mind.

On the other side of the room there was a door. Laura walked towards it and opened it to step out into a small hallway from which other doors led to a kitchen and a tiny bathroom. Without thinking twice, Laura headed for the bath room. She could feel Martin's presence even here, and see it in his dirty and chewed out tooth brush, the open toilet seat, the socks left carelessly on the floor. Still, it was much better to be here than in the bed room. There was a mirror there, and for a while Laura stood in front of it, staring at her own reflection in amazement. How little she had changed -- and yet, how different she had become. This is me, she thought, looking into her own eyes, and I am only going to do what I want, from now on.

In the end, however, the fascination with her own face diminished, and the remainder of Martin's cum on her inner thighs was starting to form a crust, causing her to itch. Laura looked towards the door of the bath room, and found two towels hanging there. She assumed that the cleaner of the two was hers, and put it within reach of the shower cabin, before she turned on the hot water.

Only after showering for half an hour and with very hot water, Laura finally got dressed and then went to a phone she had seen standing in the hallway, to call the police.

***

Laura awoke with a start. The open window of her bed room was shaking in the wind. Probably its loud thumps, opening and closing again and again, were the reason she could no longer sleep. The open window stirred a memory, and for a moment, she felt little pearls of sweat gathering on her forehead, and the pace of her heartbeat increasing. Then, however, memory of the last few days returned and Laura sank back into the cushions with a sigh of relief.

She was lying in her own bed, at home, in her parent's house, in the room she had lived in since she had been a small child. Her parents had accepted her back happily, when she had appeared on their door step, accompanied by her uncle, the police chief. Her mother had hugged her without a word, and her father had taken the small bag with her clothes, that Uncle Stefan was carrying, and brought it to her room. There was no question in his mind, as to where Laura belonged. Even though Laura's parents had surely not approved of Martin, they did try to display sympathy about the tragic accident of their daughter's supposed boyfriend, and promised Laura to give her all the support and shoulders to cry on, that she needed. Still, though they could barely admit it to themselves, Laura could feel their relief at how things had ended.

Almost two weeks had passed since she moved back home. Tomorrow was going to be the first day of the new school year. She hoped for a return to normality -- if she put a real effort into it this year, she would hopefully be able to catch up in class and manage to graduate with acceptable grades.

In what concerned her class mates, she did not care anymore what they thought of her. She had rarely left the house in the last days, but whenever she did she could hear the whispers, feel the looks burning into her skin. Not one of all these people looking at her and talking about her, however, ever dared to ask her about Martin into her face. Of course they all thought she had been in love with him and had to be mourning now. It had been shockingly easy; everyone believed her story about the accident: She had told the police that she had returned from a little walk out in the forest, and found his lifeless body on the bedroom floor. Maybe the ease with which she convinced them should not come as a surprise, after all everyone in town knew her, and additionally Martin was about twice her size. What had happened to him, however, remained a riddle -- and was all the more reason for whispers and stares. Martin was in hospital, in a coma, ever since, and it looked like he might never wake up.

No, Laura didn't enjoy it when she was with other people. She had met up with only one of her friends so far, and was not looking forward to seeing the others. What was she to talk about with them, anyway? None of them had realized how seriously wrong things were with her throughout the past year; no one had made an effort to find out what was going on. And she, Laura, had managed to free herself with only her own strength to rely on. She did not need the others anymore, and maybe this lesson was the one good thing she got out of all this, she thought.

Despite all this, she looked forward to returning to school. Everything was going to be well again -- everything was going to be normal again.

There was just one thing that kept bothering Laura: The locket was still hidden in one of the drawers of her desk. She had thought about it for a long time, wondering what to do with it. Every time she took the gleaming little thing into her hand, she felt power surging from it, drawing her in, tempting her. Every time she considered wearing it, for just a few minutes, just to feel what it was like to use its power. But Laura fought against this temptation. She had suffered too much from what this thing could do, she felt sick at the thought of doing something like this to anyone else.

Outside, a heavy wind was blowing, and suddenly Laura could not help thinking of Lake Leskow. She could picture it perfectly, what it would look like right now, its dark waves topped by white little crowns, the moon above it hidden by clouds, the tops of the trees swaying in the breeze. The lake was deep, one of the deepest in the region. Maybe she should just throw the locket into the lake? Then it would be gone, it could not fall into the wrong hands anymore.

She had made up her mind. Quickly, Laura got out of her bed and put on her jeans and a T-shirt. It was still quite warm outside; she would not need a jacket. She opened her desk's drawer. Her hands were trembling just a little bit, when she reached for the little package: A handkerchief in which she had carefully wrapped the locket, in the hope that not seeing it would help her not feel its presence. It was heavier than one would expect of a thing its size, and Laura believed to feel heat radiating from it, even through the material of the handkerchief.

She put the little package into the pocket of her jeans, she did not want to feel it, did not want to be tempted by its warmth. Then Laura climbed out of the window into the night. The edge of the forest was very near her house, and soon enough she was surrounded by tall, dark trees. Their tops were swaying in the wind, leafs rustling. Laura felt a bit cold after all, missing her warm and comfortable bed. She picked up pace, and soon she reached the little bay that she deemed the perfect place to dispose of her unwanted property. The lake lay in the dark, its deep waters as black as always; hiding away she did not know what secrets. Little waves rippled on the surface, and the reflection of the moon was broken into a thousand pieces, dancing on the waves.