Enigma Nocturne

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Part Nineteen.


“You enjoyed it, didn’t you,” the Headmaster said as he turned his back on Jore’s pitiful form and walked over to his desk.

Jore watched him through a haze of guilt and anger. The boy was practically numb now, in both body and mind. He wasn’t sure whether the Headmaster was referring to his torture, or the situation between himself and Amgine, but he had enough sense to not ignore a direct question from Nairicks, even if it was rhetorical.

“No,” Jore said softly.

Nairicks snorted in disbelief, shaking his head. He turned around to face Jore again, and leaned back on the edge of his desk. “‘No’? Is that all you have to say?”

Jore paused a moment and then nodded, keeping his face a blank, expressionless mask.

The Headmaster chuckled quietly, then stood up and began to push his large red chair out from the desk and towards where Jore sat on the floor, barely propped up by the bookshelf behind him.
Jore watched with indifference as Nairicks moved the chair to rest right in front of him, then the man sat down with a sigh. Silent moments passed as the Headmaster sat before him, looking down at the knife in his hands and playing with it absently.

Jore felt itchy for action in the tense silence. He started to fee bold in his broken and apathetic state. “Why do you do this?” he ventured, and met the Headmasters gaze as the man looked up, mildly surprised at the question. Jore continued, “I mean, I know you take pleasure in fucking up your students’ minds and bodies, but why do you do it to your nephew?”

Nairicks’ eyes narrowed threateningly, but Jore wasn’t finished.

“Couldn’t you just have been content with taking your pick from thousands of kids? …But no, you had him transfer here, right? Are you really that sick? I mean, I do understand how your mind works, but--”

“You understand absolutely nothing, Mr. Meili,” the Headmaster spat, and Jore could see the man trembling with anger. Hearing Jore say those things so clearly and openly to him was the last thing Nairicks had expected.

Jore looked up into his eyes and grinned triumphantly.

The Headmaster’s right hand shot forward, followed by the force of his body as he gripped Jore by the collar of his shirt and lifted him to his feet, slamming the back of the boy’s head on the hard, wooden bookshelf.
Jore merely grunted in pain, then opened his mouth and started to laugh.

Nairicks shoved a knee in between Jore’s legs, then with his left hand he held the knife in-between his thumb and forefinger as he pressed the open palm up against Jore’s bandaged wound. The boy’s laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by a loud moan of pain.
Jore immediately regretted his insubordination as he felt the Headmaster’s left hand move up a few inches to hold his knife up against Jore’s collarbone, pressing down slightly through the boy’s clothes.

“No, you really don’t understand anything… especially, apparently, your current situation. Do you want to be hurt, Jordan?” Nairicks asked, and Jore shut his eyes and shook his head, gritting his teeth in pain.

It wasn’t true, though. He did want to be hurt. He felt like he wanted to be punished for his out-of-control actions towards Amgine, but he definitely didn’t want the Headmaster to get any pleasure from it.

“You’re lying,” Mr. Nairicks said softly, and smiled at Jore as the boy opened his eyes and glared at the Headmaster with a palpable mixture of hate and fear.
Nairicks grinned wider and laughed darkly. “I see that spark… that defiance in your eyes, Jordan. It’s quite amusing now… but it will be even more entertaining to extinguish…”

Jore shut his eyes again, trembling with fear, yet determined to defy the Headmaster at every opportunity. But his will to fight seemed to be drained from him as he felt Nairicks lean forward, and a cool tongue slide slowly up his neck to his chin.
Jore swallowed back a whimper as the Headmaster ran a hand slowly down his tender chest, then rested his fingers on the boy’s hip, gently rubbing his thumb over it.

Jore shuddered. “Stop… D…don’t touch me,” he managed to whisper, and he cursed in his head as he felt his body reacting to Nairicks’ chill touch. The Headmaster’s hand teased at the hem of Jore’s pants as the man kissed softly at the boy’s neck.

He’s… being gentle, Jore realized.

The Headmaster wasn’t hurting him… yet. But the time for words and pleas had ended, there was nowhere to run, and now Nairicks was just playing with him. The man knew how to move. He planned to tease Jordan into submission, hear him beg, and watch his spirit break once again.
As Mr. Nairicks’ lips brushed over his, Jore nearly sobbed as he realized the gravity of the situation he was in. How long could he last under the Headmaster’s cool, capable hands? Would he break, ending up crying and begging to his nemesis? He was trapped… trapped beneath Nairicks once again.

Someone… anyone… help me, Jore prayed in his head. A knock on the door, a phone call, any interruption to stop this situation from going further. Please… someone please help me!


The door to Mr. Nairicks’ office opened quietly, and Jore was the first to notice. His eyes widened, and he stared at the intruder with first shock, then joy, and finally horror.

Mr. Nairicks pulled back and noticed Jore’s expression, and he immediately flicked his gaze to the side to see what had caught the boy’s attention.

There in the doorway, Amgine stood.

The blonde’s mouth hung open in surprise at the two people he saw before him, and his eyes betrayed all his feelings, rushing out at Jore like a wave. Terror, hurt, hate, love, desire, and revulsion.
After a few moments, Amgine came back to his senses, and turned around, calmly closing the office door. Then the boy turned back to face the room, acting as brave as possible.


Nairicks stayed frozen in his position against Jore, until Amgine had closed the door and turned to face him again. He grinned and stepped backward, letting Jore go.
Jore stumbled forward onto his knees, and cursed aloud. Why did he come?! Why Amgine? It could have been anyone else… why him? What are the two of us supposed to do against Nairicks? We are powerless, Jore thought. He watched, dumbstruck, as the Headmaster approached Amgine, who was visibly trembling, though he kept his chin up and met Nairicks’ gaze.

“How nice of you to drop by,” the Headmaster began, walking slowly towards Amgine. “Although… I must admit I am somewhat disappointed in you… You’ve never been absent from my presence for more than a day, before. Why the sudden change of schedule, dear?”
By the time he asked that question, Nairicks was right in front of Amgine, crowding into his personal space. The Headmaster was quite a bit taller than Jore, and next to Amgine he was practically a giant. Jore watched in horror as the Headmaster patted Amgine on the head, and slowly ran a hand through the boy’s soft blonde hair. Amgine shut his eyes, and Jore could see him trembling, his knees shaking-- whether from disgust or desire… Jore wasn’t quite sure.

“Get your hands off him,” Jore growled menacingly from his kneeling position across the room.

Nairicks turned and simply smiled at Jore, continuing to gently pet Amgine’s head. The man then leaned down and started whispering into Amgine’s ear, and Jore saw the boy’s eyes open, then widen in fright.

“Stop that!!” Jore yelled, starting to stand up, but was quickly brought back down to his knees, wincing. Nairicks had irritated the bandages around his torso, and now Jore was experiencing fresh pain. He looked down and saw that a little blood was seeping through to stain his shirt. “…Shit,” Jore cursed quietly, grimacing.
But his attention was turned back to the room’s two other occupants as a small whimper was heard.

Jore’s eyes widened with shock at the image before him.
Nairicks stood facing Amgine, who was now on his knees before the Headmaster. The boy’s blonde head barely reached the height of Nairicks’ hips, and the Headmaster had a hand under Amgine’s chin, making his head tilt back all the way, sure to be painfully. The side of Amgine’s angelic face rested against Nairicks’ thigh.
The Headmaster was gazing down at the boy with obvious desire, but Amgine’s eyes were closed, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Jore could tell he was trying not to cry. What did Nairicks just whisper to him? Jore wondered, hatred boiling over inside him.

“Get… get away from him,” Jore said, his voice coming out more like a pained wheeze, rather than the strong command he wished he could muster. He clutched at his wounded torso, gritting his teeth against the pain as more blood began to flow and seep through the bandages. Suddenly, Jore could barely move. Of all the times to have a relapse…


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