Shout

“I’m sorry,” Priscilla bit out, the words a tremendous weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“You’re sorry?”

She hesitated before giving a tense nod. The woman seated in front of her didn’t look impressed.  

O. sighed, pressing a hand to her temple as if this was a daily occurrence for her. Priscilla always thought she’d been a kind teacher, always patient and understanding, but then again, Priscilla had never been in this amount of trouble before. There was another moment of silence as the older woman collected her thoughts.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” She finally asked. Maybe this was the time to plead or to crumble in defeat, but Priscilla resisted the urge. A hand absentmindedly played with a loose strand of hair. She forced herself to straighten her back. 

“What else am I to say?”

“An explanation would be nice,” O. replied. Her eyes held something dark and unspoken. Something Priscilla didn’t have the strength to face. The load of regret she thought she’d ridden herself of, fell once again onto her back, threatening to crush her under its weight. And perhaps she deserved it. 

She shoved the thought deep into a closet. 

“I realize I made a mistake, but you can’t expect me to explain what I still don’t understand.”

“What you don’t understand? How can you say that? You-”

“I know what I did!” Priscilla cut in, not wanting to hear the words aloud. O.’s eyes narrowed at the outburst. 

“I know what I did,” Priscilla repeated, lowering her voice to a whisper. Her throat throbbed in the silence, reminding her of the demon writhing in the closet. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to breathe and release the tension threatening to snap the nerves and tendons barely holding her together. Her wrist spazzed. Quickly she grabbed it with her opposite hand and squeezed tightly. It still burned from the events of the previous week. 

Priscilla lifted her chin. Looking O. firmly in the eyes she set her mouth in a straight line. “Everything happened so fast,” she said. “Please understand I still haven’t processed that night.” The clock ticked ominously in the background, counting down the minutes of her confession. Its ticking grew louder and louder the more she focused on it, watching as the minute hand drew closer to the ten o’clock spot.

“Can I go?” she asked. “Class starts soon.”

Truthfully she didn’t care if she made it to class on time or not. It was more a desperate excuse to escape the room. O. saw through the attempt.

Folding her hands together O. leaned forward, harsh eyes narrowing further into slits. For the first time in her three years of attendance Priscilla was terrified. The depth of the situation finally caught up to her. The event she was trying so hard to escape was no longer a harrowing nightmare-it was real. 

“You’re lucky you’re a skilled fighter, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” O. said. Priscilla didn’t react to the compliment. She knew there was a ‘but’ coming. She was starting to get used to this constant failure. 

“You should be expelled for this,” O. continued. Her statement buried itself in Priscilla’s chest. Still, she didn’t allow herself to crack. “But, I fought for you and The Board has allowed you a second chance.”

The words hung suspended in the air, begging for Priscilla to accept them. She cautiously obliged but not without hesitation. Both her hands trembled this time. This was a chance to start over, a chance to put all this behind her. It’s what she wanted, what she walked in this room to accomplish, and yet, she hadn’t thought it would be this easy. 

“So how can I make it up to you?” 

O. shook her head, “It’s not me you need to make amends with. It’s the families you stole from that need your reimbursement.” 

Priscilla bit her lip to keep from defending herself. She couldn’t do this anymore. She would never be able to face this.

“Well, if we’re done here,” she said. Priscilla stood up and started for the door. Her fingers had barely grazed the handle when O.’s voice spoke up from behind her. 

“One more thing.”

Of course. Here was the catch. Priscilla turned, arms hanging limply at her sides. 

“Take the next three months off,” O. started, not giving Priscilla a chance to speak before continuing, “You’ll be training with the first years starting next trimester.”

Heat flared in Priscilla’s chest. It took all her energy to maintain her calm facade.

“You can’t do that to me,” she said, voice low. At that O. stood, hands planted firmly on her desk, face cast in shadow.

“I don’t think you get a say in this, Ms. Bach.” 

“But I have two years on them! It’s not fair.”

“People died due to your recklessness!” 

There it was. The truth she’d been trying so hard to outrun. O. had gotten one thing wrong however. Priscilla hadn’t been reckless. It wasn’t in her nature. She’d hyper-focused on the minute details, and in doing so had let her team down. The thought disgusted her. Let them down? It was more than that. They’d died, and fate had let her live as a cruel reminder of her failure. The demon burst out of the closet and grabbed her by the neck. She struggled to breathe as tears forcefully crawled up her throat before slipping and landing in a knotted pile. Priscilla swallowed the lump before daring to speak.

"Yes, I understand.” Her fingers found the door handle again. “I’ll go pack my things.” Silence filled the room. She walked out the door. 

Outside, the hallway was filled with students rushing purposefully to class. I should be with them, Priscilla thought bitterly. No, She corrected herself. I deserve this.

As she stewed in her thoughts a body crashed into her own, almost knocking her backwards. She would have tumbled to the floor if reflexes hadn’t instinctively steadied her against the closest wall.

Priscilla’s stomach dropped. As the body straightened itself, the other person’s eyes flashed with recognition. Ivan Dailey. His sister had been on her team. Their first trial mission and she’d let it end with casualties. An academy first.

Ivan brushed past her, purposefully this time. He didn’t even spare her any words of remorse. 

“Wait!” Priscilla called out to him before realizing she had nothing to say. Miraculously he turned to face her. She stood there, mouth agape, waiting for any words to come to mind. Ivan raised an eyebrow.

“What do you want?”

“To apologize,”

He scoffed. 

Priscilla mentally kicked herself for speaking up in the first place. Still, despite the exasperated look on his face, Ivan stood there, waiting for whatever genius thing Priscilla had to say next. 

“I messed up.”

“Really?” was the sarcastic reply. 

Priscilla frowned and crossed her arms to keep from exploding. “I messed up,” she repeated. “If there’s any way I can make it up to you, I’ll do it.”

For a minute she didn’t think he’d say anything. She half expected him to turn around and continue on his way. Eventually Ivan spoke.

“Next time, don’t be an idiot.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. The message was clear. O. might have given her a second chance, but she couldn’t expect everyone to give her the same opportunity to redeem herself. It was unfair of her to even think of such a thing. 

When it was clear Priscilla had nothing left to say, Ivan’s face slacked. “I’m going to be late for class,” he said somberly. Maybe there was even a hint of pity in his eyes. Pity that Priscilla was pathetic enough to come back to school. Pity that Priscilla dared to confront him. Pity that Priscilla would live with this guilt for the rest of her life.

As he walked away all she could do was stand there. Her wrist was tingling again, poking and prodding her relentlessly. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to move despite the people rushing by her.

She was drowning. Drowning in sorrow, in pain, in regret. Drowning beneath the storm of all these things. Drowning but determined to find solid land again. Things would be okay someday. She would force them to be.