Enigma Nocturne

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Part Eighteen.


Jore burst into Mr. Nairicks’ office in a rush, all but slamming the door behind him. He walked quickly right up to the Headmaster’s desk and stood in front of it, giving a cold, hard glare.

Mr. Nairicks, sitting casually in his armchair, met Jore’s gaze with a steady, unblinking stare from his ice-colored eyes. After a few moments, a small smile tugged at his mouth as he said quietly, “Mr. Meili… I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

Jore’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as his eyes burned with silent rage. “I’m not here for your sake, Master,” he said through clenched teeth, emphasizing the Headmaster’s personal title with a mocking tone.

“Oh my,” Mr. Nairicks said, finally breaking eye contact with Jore to look down at his desk, sighing. “Mr. Meili... Is that really the proper way to speak to your Headmaster?”

He then stood up, and leaned over his desk slightly, looking down on Jore.
Jore tried to swallow in a suddenly dry throat. He shifted slightly, but kept his narrowed eyes trained on Mr. Nairicks’. He would not back down now.

The Headmaster smiled. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Meili?”

Jore steadied himself, focusing his anger. “You’re the problem,” he stated flatly, and paused, letting his words sink in. Then he spoke with more feeling, “You… you… poisoned me. You ruined me. I was… I had… hopes. And I… I…” Jore’s voice suddenly got softer, and he looked down at the floor. “I… could’ve had a chance.”

Mr. Nairicks raised an eyebrow. “A chance with what, exactly?”

Jore bit his lower lip hard, feeling his hopes decaying. He had shown weakness… yet his anger still filled him. That was all he had left, now.

He looked back up at the Headmaster and said, “I could’ve had a chance with him.”


Mr. Nairicks seemed to study Jore’s face for a moment. “I see,” he said quietly, and sat down, motioning for Jore to do the same.

After a long moment, Jore sat down slowly, once again glaring at the Headmaster. But something in the situation had changed during that moment of hesitation. It was as if the two of them, Jore and Nairicks, suddenly had a… connection. Something like an understanding had passed between them. Jore could feel it… but it surprised him, and he didn’t know how to react. He stayed still, his expression set. He wouldn’t let his guard down.


“…I’m his uncle.”

“I know.”

Jore’s response came so quickly, the Headmaster actually looked up in surprise at the student sitting before him.

“Really? Hm. Then tell me, Jordan… what else do you know?”


Jore’s voice was cold and steady. “I know you whipped him…. and cut him. And I know you… raped him.”

“Yes, I did,” Mr. Nairicks started, and then he smiled at Jore, sending a cold chill down the boy’s spine. “But… you understand my reasons, I’m sure. After all… you, too, know what it feels like to hunger for someone that badly… don’t you, Jore?”

Jore visibly tensed. “You’re… disgusting. To do… that… to someone like him… You’re a sadistic bastard.”

Mr. Nairicks smiled coolly. “So are you, Jordan.”


In a second, Jore stood up, and then slammed his fist down on the Headmaster’s desk, rattling the items on it and sending a few papers into the air.

Mr. Nairicks didn’t even flinch, a fact which seemed to fuel Jore’s anger even more. The boy seethed with fury. “I AM NOT YOU!!” He yelled into the stuffy, dim room.
The volume of his passionate statement was swallowed up by the heavy curtains over the windows, and the dust-laden bookshelves lining the walls.

Jore breathed heavily, trembling with his hatred, his eyes glaring with such intensity that even the Headmaster looked the tiniest bit surprised for a moment.
But then he recovered.

Before Jore could move a muscle, Mr. Nairicks had moved around the desk and was standing right in front of Jore. The boy tried to move back a step, but the Headmaster was ahead of him, grabbing Jore’s left arm tightly. Jore cried out angrily and lifted his right arm to try and hit his oppressor. However, Mr. Nairicks proved once again to be a lot faster and stronger than Jore, and within seconds both of Jore’s arms were being held securely above his head.

Jore didn’t have time to try kicking his legs, because Mr. Nairicks forced the boy backwards as the Headmaster took long, powerful steps towards the nearest wall. Jore didn’t have time to brace himself for the impact, and yelped in pain as the back of his head cracked against a hard wooden bookcase.

Mr. Nairicks ignored the noise this commotion was making. He ignored the few disturbed books falling heavily to the thinly carpeted floor, and he was unaware of the strain on his arms to keep Jore in place. He saw only the anger, pain, and then the helpless submission on Jore’s face as the Headmaster roughly pressed a thigh up between the boy’s legs.

“Ahh! …Nnahh… No, don’t… please, don’t,” Jore begged, his eyes watering with pain and an overflow of emotion.

Mr. Nairicks smiled and leaned in, licking a cold trail from Jore’s chin to his right ear. Jore shuddered and whimpered, squirming in the Headmaster’s painful grasp.

“My dear pet… you’re as irresistible as ever. I could take you here and now,” Mr. Nairicks whispered in Jore’s ear, causing the weakened boy to freeze in terror.

“No… no, no, please… Please, not that… please don’t… M-master,” Jore whispered desperately, hating himself and the Headmaster more deeply than ever before. Jore felt so weak… so worthless… how could he have ever thought Amgine might love him? He was just as disgusting as the Headmaster… and he was helpless to resist him.

Forgive me, Amgine. Soft, fragile, precious Amgine… please… forgive me for what I did to you… and forgive for being unable to save myself from Nairicks. Jore mumbled this prayer as he felt his restrained hands start to go numb.

Mr. Nairicks’ sadistic smile faded slightly as he caught something Jore said. “What was that, pet?” He asked, his voice scarily soft in Jore’s ear.

Jore stayed silent, trembling.

In a flash, Mr. Nairicks produced a long, sharp knife from his back pocket, and pressed the blade against Jore’s neck.

Jore screamed.

The Headmaster clapped a hand over Jore’s mouth, but the boy’s screams of pure terror were just muffled, as he continued to cry out shrilly, tears now running down his face.

“Shut up, boy!!” the Headmaster hissed in Jore’s ear. Jore finally quieted at the shock of seeing Mr. Nairicks truly angry. Jore had done something… to break the terrible man’s composure.

“What were you mumbling, Jordan?” the Headmaster asked, his voice back to its soft, cold purr. He pressed the blade against Jore’s sweaty neck. Jore’s mind reeled as he felt waves of terror-driven adrenaline rushing through him. But he had to stay calm… or else… the knife.

“I… I…. ah…” Jore managed to squeak out, fear stealing his voice away for a few seconds. He swallowed, feeling the blade press hard against his skin. “I… I was… asking… Amgine to… forgive me.”

Mr. Nairicks raised an eyebrow. “…Amgine? Why?”

Jore shuddered at the Headmaster’s tone. They way Nairicks said Amgine’s name… something about how he got the pronunciation so perfect made Jore sick to his stomach. “Because I… I… wasn’t strong enough to… save… either of us from you. …and…” Jore’s voice faltered.

The Headmaster caught his hesitation. “And?”

Jore shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth for a second before saying quietly, “…And… I asked him to forgive me for… nearly… raping him.”


Mr. Nairicks became still and unreadable. Jore kept his eyes closed. But then he felt the Headmaster lower his knife very slowly, and then Nairicks stayed eerily silent for a few drawn-out seconds.


Jore opened his eyes slightly only to see tears cloud his vision. He cursed himself for telling those things to the Headmaster. He could’ve made something up… but now… Mr. Nairicks knew. He knew it all.

Oh God, how could I have said that? Confessed that… to him? … I am so weak. I’m worthless. I’m only good for… bringing pain to others. And… I can blame Nairicks for it all I want… but I know… it’s me. He sobbed quietly at that last thought, hot, accusing tears running down his cheeks.


Jore sagged back against the bookshelf as Nairicks moved away a few steps and the boy’s wrists were finally released. Jore cried quietly, staring blankly at the floor, his entire being gone numb.

The Headmaster watched him calmly.


* * *


Amgine woke up shivering.

He felt weak and foggy, and as he sat up the disorienting feeling only intensified. It was early evening outside. What had happened? Jore had been here, with him… they had lay together, touched, and…

Amgine put a hand to his mouth as he suddenly remembered all that had occurred… every detail until the moment when he slipped into the cold sanctuary of unconsciousness. But what had happened… after he went under?

Amgine tried to calm himself as he assessed his present situation. He sensed no pain on his body, and as he stood up experimentally, he didn’t feel any soreness or discomfort. So… Jore had not violated him. The older boy had been… very close to it, too close, but in the end he hadn’t really… raped Amgine.

The blonde sighed in relief.

But now, he was even more confused. It would’ve been simple enough if Jore had just lied to him and played him, pretending to love him just to use his body. But Amgine knew that the whole chain of events was more complicated than just that. There were things out of place… emotions and so many little things that Amgine remembered about Jore from before, which told him that Jore could never even think about hurting the younger boy. Amgine had believed that earlier… but now… what could he think? Why had Jore changed? He went from loving, sweet, and warm, to smirking, cold, and sadistic.

Amgine shuddered in disgust as his conscious mind actually began to compare his uncle to Jore. No! He thought, shaking his head violently to clear it. I know what… he… is like. He was a truly evil man. Jore wasn’t... isn’t… like him. Not at all, Amgine thought with conviction. And he did know how to spot evil a mile away. He knew from experience… lots of experience. He had been forced to deal with living nightmares. And he had discovered how to survive those… the hard way.

With his knowledge of his uncle and Jore… There had to be an answer to his questions. Amgine knew that he had to be the one to find a solution to this mystery… even if it meant confronting fear itself. He was the only onw who could help. He would not be stopped by his uncle again. Amgine would gladly put himself in harm’s way to save Jore’s sanity.

The two of them would be together again.

Amgine could fix this.

…Couldn’t he?



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To Be Continued...

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Thanks for reading!

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