One Night With My Alpha Professor

Audrey

The late afternoon sun poured through the bay windows, casting patches of warm, golden light across the hardwood floors. I found myself perched in a plush armchair in Eliza’s living room watching the scene in front of me with rapt fascination. Edwin sat on the arm of the chair beside me, propping his chin on his fist, watching along with me.

Joseph sat cross–legged on a cushion near the coffee table, hunched over a piece of paper. He was scribbling furiously, a red crayon clutched in his hand.

He had been like this for quite a while now, ever since Edwin and I had arrived. In fact, he hadn’t even looked up when we had entered the room. We had even brought more presents for him, and they still sat untouched by the door.

Eliza had explained that he had been like this all morning, and it showed. The boy was still in his pajamas, his hair mussed as if he hadn’t moved since breakfast time. Most notably, he was surrounded by discarded papers, all depicting the same thing in black and red crayon.

Dimly lit rooms, with creeping shadows around the corners. Large, angry stick figures with what almost looked like baseball bats or police batons in their hands. Smaller stick figures cowering on the floor.

Shuddering, I leaned over and picked up the nearest one. It looked like a closeup of a man’s face, black stubble around his mouth and his eyebrows turned down as if in fury. He had pointy teeth, the ends of which were dotted with… Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

Red, Like blood.

Perhaps some people would have said that this sort of thing wasn’t incredibly abnormal for a child–that perhaps he’d had a nightmare that was impacting him or had watched a movie that he shouldn’t have.

But we knew better.

My stomach was twisting into knots at the sight. Even down the bond, I could feel Edwin’s worried mind whirling.

Maybe Joseph couldn’t speak, but he was still trying to communicate in the best way he could manage. He wanted us to know his story, at least a little of it.

“He started doing it the moment I gave him those new crayons,” Eliza whispered as she entered the room with a tray in her hands, nodding her head toward the boxes strewn across the coffee table. Some of the crayons had already been worn down to nubs from the way he was pressing so hard.

and gave me a wary look, almost as if I swallowed and glanced at Edwin as I took a cup of tea from Aliza. He caught my gaze he was afraid to find out what sort of horrors the little boy had endured before we had found him.

“Joseph?” Eliza set down a cup of warm milk and a cookie beside the boy, although he didn’t even acknowledge the snack. “What are you drawing, love?”

Joseph’s head tilted up slightly, but his gaze didn’t quite meet his adoptive mother’s. He glanced quickly between us as if only now noticing our presence, and then he was immediately looking back down at the crayon in his hand, his movements across the page growing even more frantic.

you. But Eliza gave him a reassuring smile even though he wasn’t looking at her. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, honey,” she said gently, ruffling his hair. Again, no response, no indication that he even felt it. “No one is going to force we’re here to listen if you do.”

Of course, Joseph didn’t answer. He never did, anyway–not verbally, at least. But over the past week he had begun to use facial expressions, head bobs, and hand movements to convey his thoughts.

Now, though, he just kept scribbling like his life depended on it. It was like we weren’t even here.

111

<

B.

81%1

I watched him closely, my heart aching as I took in the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the crayon just a little too tightly. It was obvious that whatever he was drawing–it wasn’t make–believe. These pictures weren’t born from imagination or fantasy.

These were memories. The same memories I had seen flashes of when I’d found him in the orphanage, only a little clearer.

No one spoke again for a long time as Joseph continued to draw Edwin sat back, his gaze flickering between me and the boy, his eyebrows knit together. Eliza stayed crouched beside Joseph, waiting patiently as milk went cold on the coffee table.

I couldn’t bear to see him like this–to know that there was something dark and terrifying plaguing his mind and that I couldn’t do anything about it. There was a way, though, that would allow me to help.

I had resisted probing his mind, waiting for him to open up and speak about his experiences instead. But seeing him now…

It would only take a moment, and then it would be over. I just needed a clear picture of a face, the sound of a voice, anything to give me more details on his experience. I could help him then if I could just have that much.

And so, carefully, tentatively, I reached out toward his mind.

But the moment my powers brushed the edges of Joseph’s consciousness, he reacted. And not in a good way.

His head snapped up, eyes wide with terror, his entire body jerking as if he had been struck in the face. The crayon slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor, forgotten, as he scrambled backward so fast that he knocked over the mug of milk beside him. White liquid spilled across the hardwood, dampening the drawings.

“Joseph?” Eliza didn’t even have a chance to ask what was wrong before the boy was launching himself into her arms, silent tears streaming down his face. She stiffened for a moment, surprised, before she enveloped him and looked worriedly up at me and Edwin.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

“What happened?” Edwin sat up straight, snapping his head toward me.

I felt like I might be sick. “I… I thought I could read his memories,” I admitted. My voice was small, but even the sound of it made Joseph shake with terror in Eliza’s arms. “I thought it might help…”

Eliza stiffened. Edwin’s eyes widened as he turned to me. “Audrey…”

“I know,” I whispered, horrified. I set aside my tea and rose, taking a nervous step forward. “I’m sorry, Joseph. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Eliza said softly, her voice soothing as she wrapped her arms protectively around Joseph. But her words weren’t meant for me. Her attention was entirely on the boy trembling in her lap. “You’re safe here, Joseph. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

Edwin moved to stand beside me, his hand finding my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, but I could barely feel it. My stomach was churning, threatening to retch my breakfast all over the floor. I had done this. I had caused this panic, this fear. Joseph had been through enough–he didn’t need me making things worse.

I took another step closer, reaching for Joseph. “Joseph, buddy, I didn’t mean to-

The boy glanced over his shoulder, and upon seeing me, a look of silent terror flashed across his face before he buried himself deeper in Eliza’s arms. I withdrew my hand, looking first to Eliza and then to Edwin. Tears burned in my eyes.

“I–I’m sorry-”

Edwin shook his head and touched my hand. “It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

“But I should have suspected,” I said, watching in horror as. Eliza picked up a trembling Joseph and began carrying him up