WITCHES OF WOLF CREEK: TRUTH

Chapter 3: Elinor

I’m about to break down.

The migraine that’s been pulsing under my head since last night doesn’t seem determined to let me go, and the lack of sleep isn’t helping. It must be said that I hadn’t really planned to spend the night at the police station, answering a cop’s questions about the suicide of a girl who was even more depressed than me.

The memory of the disarticulated body of this poor woman makes me feel sick. s**t. I can’t vomit in class, on my desk... Although I did vomit in a police car...

Staggering, I get up and take three steps between the rows of tables. But why must they be so noisy today? Gagging seizes me. I hurry to the toilets, in the hallway, right next to my class. There, I push open a wooden door painted in a pretty, totally topical puke green, and throw myself on my knees, without any dignity, in front of the toilet. I barely have time to gather my hair above my head as the meagre contents of my stomach pass the barrier of my lips.

Whore. I can’t decide if I feel relieved or even more miserable than a few moments ago.

"Are you okay, miss?"

Holly s**t. Not her. Ah, she’s cute, Lise-Ann, with her little pigtails and her big blue eyes, just above a clean dress, white socks and patent leather shoes. But, the truth, I know it. This kid is evil. So, OK, she’s only six, but I’m sure she’s the reincarnation of a dark mage. At a minimum.

With a small smirk, she walks over to the paper towel dispenser, pulls out a nice amount, and brings it to me. Tricks like that don’t work with me, I want to shout at her.

But I say nothing and accept the offering with a simple nod. It’s better to keep your mouth shut when you still have pieces of vomit between your teeth.

"Thank you," I said in a barely trembling voice. "Go back to class, please, I’ll be right there. I must have eaten something not fresh."

Or drink, rather. Yet there were ice cubes in all my cocktails, I’m sure.

"Good, Miss Mona."

Lise-Ann turns her heels in a flight of skirts. No sooner had she left the bathroom than I grimaced. This filthy little plague will tell everything to her mother, who in turn will hasten to feed Radio Portail. Tomorrow morning, Miss Mona on all fours in the toilet is all they will talk about. So nice.

But I’m not at the end of my troubles, except that I don’t know it yet.

I get up, legs shaking, and lean on the edge of the white earthenware sink. I look up and face my reflection in the mirror. I lower them immediately. Why hurt yourself? Besides, I’m sure the cold lighting in the small room is enough of an explanation for my waxy complexion and the large dark circles that adorn my light eyes.

"Elinor? Lise-Ann came to get me to tell me that you weren’t feeling well..."

No! Not this! Not this, not this, not this… I think that right now, I could kill for a Xanax, so I feel on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Levenach… What a surprise! I start straightening up, trying to stay dignified. No, listen, it’s fine. I’m a little… queasy, let’s say. We ordered sushi last night, and… you know, raw fish…"

"I totally see."

Levenach enters the room and comes to stand behind me. I raise my head to meet his gaze. It’s funny, the lighting is much nicer with him. His brown curls, a little too long, sweep over his broad shoulders, which ruthlessly stretch the fabric of his suit jacket. His mouth, a thin red line on his very pale face, doesn’t smile. Just like his eyes, by the way. Their beautiful translucent green is absolutely icy.

Levenach Havek, my dear director. A hell of a teaser… or not. I’ll never understand how Neeve stuck with him for so long when they were younger. Granted, he was a little friendlier back then, but still kind of dark. On the other hand, today, he’s a pure asshole.

In any case, I think we’ve known each other long enough for us to do without pretence.

"What are you staring at, Levenach, huh?"

"I’m staring at one of the teachers of the prestigious Wiccard school who sleeps off her wine during her school day."

"So, what’s it to do with you?"

Yeah, here, my lack of repartee terrifies me, I must admit. Clearly, I’m wrong, and my bravado attitude won’t save my ass.

"What’s it to do with me? Don’t you think that the parents of this establishment have the right to expect better from us? We promised them excellence, Elinor. And we owe them."

"I do my job well."

His eyes seek mine in the mirror. But I don’t see any compassion there.

"You’re lying to yourself, dear. It’s been a long time since you left the ramp. So listen to me. I don’t want to hear your excuses for today. I want you to pack your things, go home and..."

"What? But… are you firing me? Considering the time, you could at least let me finish the day!"

I’m close to throwing up again. I grit my teeth, trying to breathe slowly.

"No," he replies in a cold tone, "I’m not firing you today. But I’m asking you to take a few days to think about all this. If you are no longer able to carry out your duties, I recommend that you resign. And if you decide to come back to take your place among us, I advise you never to present yourself like this again."

It sounds like a threat. Well, it is clearly a threat. Throat tight, tears in my eyes, I can only shake my head. Lamentable. I’m pathetic.

Burning cheeks, swollen eyelids and a puffy face, I leave the bathroom to return to my class.

And there… I remain frozen, appalled. My students have erupted. They are turning over the room, when it’s almost time to leave. There are overturned chairs and desks, objects fly all over the room, luminous and multicoloured flashes streak the ceiling and, on the blackboard, white chalk writes, alone, in large trembling letters: "Miss Mona vomited in the toilet and I’m going to tell my mum". In the middle of this shambles, Lise-Ann is planted in her socks and looks at me with a little triumphant air. I’m sure she’s the one wielding the chalk from a distance. She is just as precocious in magic as she is in wickedness.

"You see?" Levenach whispers behind my back. "That’s exactly what happens when you can’t control your class."

How to answer that? I’m in no position to brag. He’s right all along. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any authority over these kids. I come every morning with a lump in my stomach, I can’t stand my colleagues anymore, I can’t stand the parents anymore… Just seeing these walls lined with ugly drawings gives me hives. I’m only holding on thanks to the antidepressants, which my shrink happily gives me, and the cocktails I prescribe myself every evening with my friends.

As I have nothing to say in my defense, I head to my office to take my things. I’m trying to stay dignified…except one of those brats armoured with youthful magic left a toy car trailing between the rows of tables. My foot slips on it and I violently fall to the ground, flat on my back.

A deep silence follows my fall… before screams and hysterical laughter break out.

I couldn’t even have managed to make a good exit. Until the end, my vocation as a teacher was only a masquerade.

I find myself quickly in the forecourt of the school. The cool air whips my face and feels good. I inhale, exhale… and empty my spleen:

"Holy s**t!"

I interrupt myself as, mortified, a few meters from me, I see the most popular mothers in the school who are already expecting their offspring. And among them, Mrs Fleming, the mother of that venomous little wonder Lise-Ann. She looks at me with a slight smirk, obviously delighted with my decline.

I’m not going to be able to avoid it, I’m going to have to pass right next to them, because my car is parked in the parking lot opposite. Well, so be it. I square my shoulders, raise my chin high and head down the stairs. In my head, the one and only mantra: don’t eat meat, don’t eat meat, above all, don’t eat meat...

Phew. I arrive at the bottom of the stairs in one piece. I go beyond the group of silent mothers, and even allow myself to whisper:

"Lise-Ann Fleming is a filthy little pest, and everyone knows she got that from her mother."

To my great satisfaction, I hear a few mothers giggle, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the tall Ann-Lise Fleming blushing with anger.

But I don’t try to savour this small victory and trace my route to my old car.

Once inside, I collapse. I burst into tears, screaming, crying, sobbing, martyring my steering wheel, until finally the anger, the fatigue and this inexhaustible feeling of failure finally subsided.

Drained of all emotion, I let myself fall back on the back of my seat. I will finally be able to go home. The only thing I still want at this point is a glass of wine and a small cup of Xanax to peck at as an aperitif. It’s snack time, but frankly, who cares about this kind of detail?

I take a look in the mirror before starting the engine. And freeze in place. I’m not alone in this f*****g car.

"Who, what…"

The stranger smiled at me, almost gently. The woman has a completely ordinary face, a little round, hazel eyes and chestnut hair that falls limply on her shoulders. She wears a shapeless beige raincoat, the kind of clothes no one notices. She could easily blend in with the parents of the students. That’s probably what she did, in fact.

"Don’t panic. I’m only here to shut you up. And considering the scene I just witnessed from the seat of this car, I’m sure it will be a relief for you."

What? But… what is she talking about? OK, I’ve thought about it myself a dozen times lately, but it’s still not the kind of thing you delegate!

At the time, I’m not even really scared. Am I anaesthetized by the depression and the drugs that I take in the hope of holding on? Have the violent emotions that have been unleashed since last night damaged something in my brain? Yes, probably a bit of all of these.

On the other hand, when the woman puts herself behind my seat having moved so quickly that I didn’t even see her doing it, then, yes, I seriously started freaking out. And when she passes, I don’t know how, a fine cord around my neck and squeezes with all her strength, while the back of my skull is crushed against the headrest, there, clearly, panic rings the bells.

Oh. My. God. I will die. I’m gonna die in my goddamn car, I’m gonna die hungover, I’m gonna die when my headmaster just kicked me out of my own class, I’m gonna...

Out of the question. An old survival instinct, long forgotten, resurfaces. Inside me, I feel magical energy flowing at high speed, flooding every part of my body, my power pulsing, stronger than ever. A blinding white light fills the cabin, so strong that I have to close my eyes.

A kind of unappealing noise follows. A kind of… Plof? Blop? The pressure on my neck eases, and I can breathe again. Well, a little magic is often enough to scare off any petty criminals, I’ll just have to pretend there’s been a flash of lightning and...

Oh no. When I open my eyes, I realize that I’m screwed. I blew up my attacker. Literally. I can’t even see the parking lot through my windshield anymore. My seats are covered in blood, bone debris and brains and... me too!

Nausea takes over me, I open my door and vomit a jet of acid bile.

When I straighten up, only one idea comes to me. The woman said she was here to shut me up. I see only one possibility. The suicide we witnessed last night wasn’t one. And I’m not the only one who witnessed it.

I grab my cell phone, which fortunately was in my bag and is relatively clean, select a contact, and call.

"Six? It’s me. We have a problem."