POV: Elijah
Elijah felt a rush of feelings overwhelm him when he heard the voice coming from the entrance of Victor's apartment. He recognized without even having to search through his mind. It was just there, as if the memory had been resting there every day, refreshed every time he saw her and heard her speak. She had a soft voice and an annoying insistence at the same time. She might look like her, but she was nothing like her. Her voice jumped around her words in a wonderful rhythm, but she was too straightforward, too cruel in the way she spoke. Of course, there was something attractive about it as well, something that made him think that maybe something different would be good for him.
Before Victor came back, Elijah turned around to look out over the city. You could see everything from up here, forget about your troubles, and just drift away whilst watching the scenery. There were lights coming from the apartments around them as well as the cars that passed them below. He could focus on a moving light and follow it until it left his view and then replace it with another light, drifting like souls through the night. He wondered about the people passing by, wondered how many were out for the evening having fun partying, wondered how many would drive home drunk or under some other influence. Maybe they would walk or take a cab, he hoped they would be careful, and he hoped they were not his students. Across the street, he could barely make out a woman who was cleaning a kitchen stove; she had her hair up in a messy bun, clearly not ready for a night on the town. He thought he saw her smile before she turned the light off, revealing the darkness despite the lights, and the underlying flaws of the city. The rain began to fall.
Victor came back into the room and started introducing everyone. Then he introduced Elijah, and now he had to turn around, looking away from the city and the life out there that surrounded them. He was back in their little bubble.
Their eyes met. He remembered her name, and then he forgot it for a second. He saw someone else in front of him. He greeted her with a smile, at least he thought he did. He would have to remember to have a word with Victor about this afterwards.
***
POV: Layla
"What did you just say?" Layla whispered in a snapping tone to Mira.
"Oh, I know you heard me," she grinned. "But don't worry, I am sure you will do great."
This, Layla thought, was the famous, much talked and warned about, peer pressure. Of course, she had been warned about it in preschool and high school, but university? She had not expected such behaviour to become relevant so late. Of course, she should have considered it a relevant warning at any time in life.
***
"Consequences," Victor began. "Is the name of the game."
They had been led into a smaller room, where they were sitting in darkness apart from some candles that Mira had lighted. Chairs had been placed in a circle facing away from each other. The walls were covered in curtains or maybe even actual tapestries.
Layla considered whether she had an opportunity to back out, but she did not know how she would do that.
"Now, our professor has kindly agreed to lead the discussion, so as to keep everything fair and equal."
Fair, Layla thought to herself, as if.
"Please take a seat," Victor said and gestured to the chairs.
Layla sat down, calming her heart by taking a couple of deep breaths. There was nothing to be afraid of, she reminded herself – despite the dark room and the lack of windows. She felt as if she had been hidden away in a basement.
"Elijah, would you?"
Layla watched as Elijah walked over to a cupboard in the corner of the room and pulled forward a bundle of silk-looking fabric. He turned and walked towards Layla first.
"Would you mind?" he asked and held out a piece of the fabric.
"Sure," she found herself saying, before she even paused to consider saying no.
Elijah prepared a string of the fabric, walked behind her, and began to tie it over her eyes. The fabric was soft against her skin, comfortable, but it left her entirely blind. She felt how his hands gracing her skin as he adjusted the fabric. He stroked her hair gently and tightened the fabric once more. He then moved on to her arms and tied them to the chair. His hands touched hers, and she forgot to ask why it was necessary for her to be tied up. He moved on further down to her legs and feet, tying them to the chair as well. She was left completely incapable of moving. She began to get a bad feeling about this, felt her heart beat faster, panic, and think up ways of getting out of this situation. But there was no way out.
"And now," Victor said. "Let's play."
***
In a rose coloured notebook with gold hardware edges:
We have her now. Let the beast be tamed. Let my hunger be satisfied. Let my sin be punished.