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Not-a-Damsel in Distress: Hallway Edition

Summary: Victor-Hecate's first public short story! Their many protective layers concealed too many features, so a patrolling teacher hehe that rhymed decided to lecture them on it and subsequently put them in danger. A somewhat mysterious girl (Aster @pagesofcursive character) comes to the rescue, which may lead them back to a path they abandoned long ago for the safety of them and the mental peace of those around them.

“Miss Ernesh!” The teacher’s voice rang out across the hallway.

Victor-Hecate Ernesh jumped, their head halfway in their locker. Sighing, they tugged at their scarf, one of the many layers of clothing they wore, and closed their locker. “Yes?” they answered, their voice muffled by the cream bandana they wore.

Coldly, the teacher demanded, “Take off all those… accessories. You know the school policy.”

Victor-Hecate said nothing and began unwrapping their copious layers of clothing. Under the severe gaze of the teacher, they shrugged off the overcoat and laid it on the tiled floor, grimacing at the thought of all the grime from day to day usage getting on the soft leather. They tugged off their grey beanie, a mop of tightly coiled chocolate brown curls spilling out and hanging halo-like around their head. After trying and failing to unwrap their scarf, they tugged off their treasured gloves and added them to the slowly growing pile at their knees.

“Hey!” a voice echoed sharply from one of the nearby lockers.

A pale girl stormed over, her dark, choppily cut, chin-length hair framing her face. A scar traced down the left side of her face, through her eyebrow to halfway down her cheek. Her dark clothing contrasted starkly with her fierce blue eyes. Victor-Hecate’s eyes widened at the impressive figure she cut; they’d heard of her before - Aster had dated Dawn, one of the more popular girls in schools, and was in and out of detention so often, no one could keep track of her misdeeds. “Can’t you see they’re obviously uncomfortable? Why can’t they just wear what they want?” Aster’s icy tone matched the teacher’s.

The teacher raised an eyebrow at the fuming girl. “She wasn’t adhering to the dress code, so she had to change. And frankly, it’s none of your business, so resume getting ready for class.”

Victor-Hecate turned back to their pile of clothing, their spirits lifted a little - they’d finally managed to unknot their scarf, and someone was trying to stand up for them. They stole another look at the girl, who rolled her eyes at the teacher. Stealing a hidden smirk, they got to work untying their bandana, which had gotten caught in their short hair.

“Dress code is stupid anyway,” she snapped, her eyes blazing brighter than before, and she narrowed them at the teacher. “Are their clothes personally bothering you? Because I don’t see how a few extra layers do anything but help them feel comfortable.”

The teacher’s visage grew haughty at the fiery girl’s insolence. “It’s a matter of security. It is hard to identify the student, and he or she could be smuggling something,” the teacher said snidely.

“A matter of security?” she said with a snicker. “Did you know that four of the doors leading into the school and the front gate all have broken locks? There are malfunctioning cameras everywhere, and at least half the windows are cracked. Why don’t you focus on those instead of targeting an innocent student?” As Victor-Hecate ripped their ashamed gaze from the pile of clothing on the floor, they caught a flash of fire curling around Aster’s fist. 

“Mind your tone, young lady,” snapped the teacher.

Finally, Victor-Hecate plucked up the courage to say something. Apparently, their mumble was inaudible to the pair standing above them, as the teacher abruptly asked, “What was that?”

They swallowed and tried to muster up their drive once again. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s fine, really.”

The teacher turned and smugly addressed Aster, who was still standing there, boiling with barely checked rage. “You see?”

Aster’s voice hardened, her eyes growing steely as she reeled back her temper. “You’re terrifying them, do you see that? Although I’m sure that during the dark ages, when you first became a teacher, it was fine to mistreat students, but it’s a different time now.” If looks could kill, the teacher would be dead on the floor. Rolling her eyes once again as the teacher opened her mouth, she quickly said, “Just let them go the rest of the day with the layers they’re comfortable with, and then I’ll help them figure out a new wardrobe after school.”

The teacher huffed before stalking off down the hallway, leaving the pair alone in front of the lockers. Victor-Hecate spoke up again, their voice filling the silence that now permeated the area, “Thank you. That was really brave. I would never be able to do that.” Their cheeks rushed with blood, giving them the color they desperately needed.

Aster’s expression softened a little. “It’s no problem. I hate when teachers do stuff like that.” She paused for a moment. “Hey, do I know you? You look familiar.”

They shrugged, “Maybe. But probably not. I don’t know a lot of people, and as you can see,” they said, gesturing to their backpack, which was bursting at the seams with their shredded layers, “I don’t show a lot of features. But I know you, though.” Victor-Hecate paused, doubting their previous observation. “You’re Aster, right? You’ve caused quite a stir at school. Even I noticed.”

Aster let out a laugh, her features alight with memories of mischief. “Yeah, that’s what I’m known for. What’s your name again?”

Victor-Hecate smarted, startled by the question. “Sorry about that. I’m not really used to people asking me. I’m pretty good at fading into the background.” They smiled weakly, pulling on their backpack. “I’m Victor-Hecate. Take your pick of nicknames; I don’t mind. It’s a bit of a mouthful, I know.” Once again, they wished they didn’t have their powers, or at the very least, were wearing gloves – this seemed like a situation that needed a handshake. Memories of normal greetings, normal interactions with people had faded over the six years of having powers.

“Well, Victor-Hecate,” Aster said, nudging them. They stiffened at the contact, preparing themself for pain, but none came. Thankfully, Aster hadn’t managed to brush any skin. “I think you’re pretty cool. And I’m sure I know someone in your family- any siblings at this school?”

“Thanks. My cousin goes here, actually. You’ve probably heard of her; she’s pretty popular. Violetta?”

Aster’s eyes widened for a moment, a slight blush rushing into her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “Oh. That explains things then. She’s in a bunch of my classes.” She chuckled. “I don’t know if she mentioned, but we kinda have a rivalry going on.”

Victor-Hecate shook their head sadly. “I don’t see her that much. We don’t run in the same circles. Like I said, I don’t know a lot of people.” They shuffled their feet awkwardly, tugging at the sleeves of their light green turtleneck. “Thanks again for rescuing me.” They started walking away, leaving Aster behind, still a little flushed.

“Well, tell her I said hi, I guess.” Her face went red again as they stopped, just shy of a chewed pencil that lay unseen one pace away from the tips of Victor-Hecate’s grey converse. Aster’s hair bounced slightly as she shook her head quickly. “Actually, don’t.”

Victor-Hecate twisted around, taking two steps towards the darkly dressed girl, raising their eyebrows, a smirk spreading on their face. “So, don’t tell her you say hi?”

Aster avoided their eyes, somehow blushing brighter. “Just ignore all of that. Uh, so am I coming over to your house to help you pick out new clothes, or did I straight up lie to that jerk of a teacher?” Fire licked out from her fists at the memory of the argument.

“You can if you want to. But I’d understand if you don’t. I’m not the most sociable person,” their smile faded.

“No, no,” Aster reassured. “I would love to hang out.”

Victor-Hecate brightened, “Awesome. Here.” They swung their bag around and fished in a pocket, searching for stationary. After a few agonizing moments of scrambling, they pulled out a pen and paper. “Write down your number so we can organize this later.”

Aster stretched out a hand. As soon as her fingers brushed the paper, they let go. The pen clattered to the floor, the paper drifting to the rest moments later. Victor-Hecate shot Aster an apologetic look as she bent to pick up the fallen materials. Aster leaned against the lockers, writing out her phone number in chicken scratch, the numbers barely legible. Stopping for a brief moment partway through writing, she aggressively shook the pen, which revolted at being used sideways. Handing back the paper, Aster blinked as the other student snatched the paper out of her hands. Victor-Hecate cringed at the situation, worried their fear was warping another potential relationship.

“Well, text me then,” Aster said, thankfully not mentioning Victor-Hecate’s odd mannerisms.

“Thanks! I will” They turned and started walking away. Suddenly, their foot slid out from underneath them, a pencil flying up in the air – the culprit of the tumble. They fell to the ground, hard, their wrists smacking against the grimy tiled floor. Anyone else would have let out a cry or grimaced at the fall, but Victor-Hecate’s high pain tolerance allowed them to brush off the injury.

“Here, let me help.” Too late, they heard Aster walk up to them, her boots clumping across the floor, and grab their hands to try to pull them up. Pain bloomed in their abdomen, their eyes flashed black as their power flared up. They snatched their hands away, falling once more to the floor. They curled into the fetal position, wrapping their arms around their middle as the phantom wound lingered. By their best guess, it would be a knife wound- and an ugly one at that. They let out a whimper as the pain surged. Finally, finally, it faded, allowing Victor-Hecate to recover and sit up.

Their voice was strained, “I’m good, but thanks.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” Concern was etched on Aster’s face.

Hauling themself to their feet, they replied, “My awful power happened.” They wilted at the worry, the pity on Aster’s face. It always happened. They were maybe, finally, respected as a person, a whole person without issues. And then, inevitably, their power surfaced and put them below everyone else again. They hated feeling weak, but the only thing worse than the pain was the looks they got. No one ever saw them as competent after witnessing a breakdown. Victor-Hecate watched curiosity light in Aster’s eyes. Maybe pity wasn’t the worst. They dreaded her horrified reaction to the reveal of the morbid powers they never wished for.

“Oh, uh- what’s your power then?” The question spilled out of Aster’s lips.

Straightening their backpack, they muttered, “I’m so sorry for the way you go out.” They brushed themself off, relishing in the final moments of ignorance before horror soured the air. Clearing their throat awkwardly, they explained, “Whenever I touch someone, I feel the pain of their death.”

With their gaze fixed on the floor, they didn’t see Aster backing up, but they heard it; her black leather boots squeaked twice on the tiles before her hand pressed against a locker, the metal letting out a crack as it warped under her weight. They imagined the shock on her face, just like the dozens before her. “I- What hap- No, I don’t want to know. Is that why...?” She stammered before trailing off.

Victor-Hecate's shoulders tightened from their slumped position. They were distraught but tried not to show it. “Yeah. That’s why I wear so much clothing - to cover any skin.” Swallowing back tears, they knelt back on the ground and pulled a jacket out from their bag. They slipped it on, jamming their thumbs in the holes by the base of the sleeves and zipping it up as quickly as possible. They forced themself to meet Aster’s gaze before continuing, “If you don’t want to come over, I understand. Nothing like a stranger knowing how you die.”

Aster chuckled weakly, the shock slowly fading from her face. “No, no, it’s- it’s okay.” She smiled at Victor-Hecate, who stood, shell-shocked in front of her. “And, exactly, I’d rather a friend know how I die compared to a random stranger. So, I’m still welcome to come?”

“Oh,” they said, caught off guard. “Of course.” The words were quiet, not quite out loud, but not quite to themself either. “I’d love that.” The pair stood in silence for a few moments before Victor-Hecate piped up, “Just, be careful around knives, okay?”

Aster’s jaw dropped at the statement. It hung open for two counts before snapping shut. “I’ll do my best. See you after school.”

“Yeah,” they said, perking up at the prospect, “Yeah…” As they made their way down the hallway, making a point to avoid the pencil, which sat innocently three feet from where it had been five minutes earlier.

Aster laughed under her breath, before starting on her own way in the opposite direction of Victor-Hecate, who now almost had a spring in their step. That day, they counted down the hours left of school for a completely different reason from their classmates. The only time the wait slipped their mind was lunch – they pulled out their phone, pulling up the number of a person they hadn’t talked to face to face for a long time.