Page 27 of Grave Matter

I need to hear it. To hear both.

I slip my hand between my thighs.

“Disobedient,” he growls, yanking my hair in a deliciously painful way. “You know that sweet cunt belongs to me, pet. You know you don’t have permission to touch what’s mine.”

Maybe I want to be punished, I think, sliding my fingers deeper until I feel how wet I am.

I’m coming in seconds.

“Oh god,” I yell out into the pillow, my cry muffled. My heart pounds in my ears, my body jerking as the orgasm slams through me.

And then I lift up my head and realize where I am.

Lying on my stomach in bed, the covers kicked to the side.

I remove my hand, my arm sore from having been trapped under my body.

Holy shit. What a fucking dream. First time I’ve actually woken myself up masturbating.

I turn over, breathing hard. I’m covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

That was wild.

I slowly sit up, trying to will my heart to return to a normal pace. I forgot to write in my diary before bed, but perhaps jotting down my dreams is a good start.

I’m about to turn on the bedside light when suddenly, I hear the floorboards creak outside my room.

I squint, looking at the crack under the door. There’s faint light from the hallway, but a shadow is moving, as if someone is passing by.

I get up and walk quietly across the room, my limbs feeling like jelly. I pause with my hand outstretched, too afraid to open it and find someone like Clayton leering outside. God, is it possible that I was moaning really loud, enough to wake someone up? Was I calling out Kincaid’s name? Fuck, I hope not.

I place my ear against the door instead, and listen.

Someone iswhispering.

I jolt, pulling my head away.

What the fuck was that?!

Fear washes over me like an ice bath. I suck in my breath, feeling frozen on the spot.

Slowly, I find the courage to put my ear against the door again.

There’s a low hiss, like someone letting air out of tires, but the hiss sounds a lot like someone—or something—speaking.

Pleeeeeeeeease,it says.

Then, all is silent.

Suffice to say I didn’t go back to sleep after that, which wasn’t awesome because it was three in the morning. I stayed up with all the lights on, busying myself with a mycology book I had taken from the common room. It was only when first light brightened the darkness at five a.m. that I finally calmed down enough to let myself think about what happened. The problem was, the sex dream and the voice sayingpleaseoutside the door started to blend together, until I couldn’t be sure if the latter had been a dream as well.

It was safer to think it was.

The morning class with Kincaid was weird, but only because I was making it weird—I kept thinking about my dream and his strange behavior last night. Had he gone into my room or not? If he did, why? Did he bring me my shoes, or had they always been there and I overlooked them? The more I try to think about it, the more I can’t remember, like everything is becoming a blur.

So I did my best not to stare at him and stayed focused on his lecture about the role of fungi in aquatic web systems and biogeochemistry, all of which were fascinating to me, especially how they relate to dark fungi. My ego wants to think he created that lecture just for me after our conversation, the way it tickled my brain and got all my neurons firing.

Lunch was another hearty meal of turkey and white bean chili, which happens to be one of my favorite dishes. My appetite increased a little, and I was actually able to finish a whole bowl,even though I ate slower than I ever have in my life. Lauren seemed proud of me.