The phantom hands squeezed my neck, restricting my airflow. I felt a sharp pain in my jaw, a burning sensation working its way up my throat.
I couldn't breathe.
It was the icy grip of something that was not quite there, that couldn't be real.
"Help!" I whizzed, the word barely making it past my lips.
Darkness edged my vision as I struggled to get the hands off. My chest heaved, I couldn't breathe. Everywhere hurt.
I was about to give in to the pain when the bathroom door slammed open and the hands recoiled slowly into the mirror.
"Mary!"
It was Ms. Duval.
I collapsed into her hands, coughing and shaking.
"What happened?" she held me closely, not complaining when I buried herself into her chest.
I grabbed her shirt, afraid that she'd let go and the ghost would come back.
"Don't leave me here," I whispered, my voice still hoarse. "You can't leave me here." I couldn't stop myself from trembling.
The chatter of students drifted through the door.
"Come on. Let's get you out of here," she said, squeezing my arm gently in a reassuring manner. "I'll take you back to my place. You can tell me what happened there."
I didn't bother with a response, it hurt too much to speak. I held tightly onto her as she carried me up, bridal style.
"There's a backdoor that's only for teachers. It leads straight to our quarters, I'll follow it so no one gets suspicious and starts to ask questions. Nod if you can hear me, Mary."
I managed a small nod.
"Does this have anything to do with your hair being wet?"
I nodded again, realizing what she was doing. She didn't want me to slip into unconsciousness.
"I'll check your bruises when we get to my room. Luckily I don't have to teach any other classes today. I didn't see you with Charlotte so I came looking in the restroom. It's a good thing I got there on time. Don't you think so?"
I couldn't move my head.
She stopped walking and looked down at me. "Mary?"
My eyes fluttered open.
"Stay with me. Okay? We're almost there."
A minute later I heard her fumble with a key before she opened the door to her apartment. I felt the drop in temperature immediately as we walked in. The entire place was freezing cold.
She opened another door which I assumed led to her bedroom. Soon enough my back hit a soft mattress.
"We're here." She flipped on the switch and light flooded the room. "I'll be right back."
I tried not to stare but I couldn't help it. Her walls were bare, not even a single picture.
There was only the bed, the closet, and a table with a chair tucked into one corner.
Ms. Duval came in later with a bowl filled with cold water and a small towel. She helped me sit up on the bed.
First, she removed my tie before undoing the first couple buttons on my shirt. After putting the towel in the water, she squeezed it and pressed it gently to my neck.
I hissed out in pain.
"I'm sorry. It'll hurt for a little while."
She hooked a finger under my jaw to gain better access. "This will help the swelling."
This close I could see the soft brownness of her eyes. They were my favorite color. Whisky. It had taken me days to come up with the shade of brown I wanted them to be.
"What happened?"
I was weary of what she'd think if I told her the truth. "It doesn't matter. You won't believe me."
She put the towel away and reached for an ointment. "Try me."
"I was washing my hair in the restroom, when the mirror suddenly blurred—" I looked at her, waiting for the look of disbelief but there was none. "Then the ghost of Mary…"
She gestured for me to go on.
"She'd appeared back at the clinic. Then again at the restroom. I thought I was imagining it but her hands came out of the mirror and tried to strangle me. I mean it's okay if you don't believe me, I wouldn't either."
She applied the ointment. "There's still food in your hair. Want me to help you with it?"
Was this her way of changing the topic?
"If you don't mind." It's not like I'd be able to wash it myself with a bruised neck. And I didn't want to bother Charlotte.
"Let me run the bath."
She left the room and came back later. I was about to stand up when she carried me likke before and took me to her bathroom.
"I can walk," I muttered.
She set me down. "You can keep your underwear on if you're not comfortable. I'll leave after washing your hair."
"Okay."
I removed my shirt and watched it drop to the floor. My skirt off next, turning into a pool at my feet.
Ms. Duval checked the temperature of the water again before gesturing for me to go in.
She started to undo the buttons on her shirt.
"What are you doing?" I asked, starting to panic.
"Relax, I don't want it to get wet."
I tried not to look as she pulled the fabric completely off but it was impossible. Underneath the shirt she had worn a burgundy lace brow that had the perfect contrast on her pale skin.
"You're staring."
I turned away, my cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
I felt her come up behind me, a moan slipping out when her fingers massaged shampoo into my hair.
"I'm sorry," I apologized again, slapping my mouth shut.
"There's no need to be. Relax, focus on my fingers on your scalp." She combed through the strands of my hair, her touch careful and light.
Then she started to massage, her thumbs pressing slow circles at the sides of my head. It made my eyes flutter shut.
All I could feel were her hands, turning intimate when I sighed and let myself relax against her. I became all too aware that I was pressed against her bosom.
I reacted before my brain could process it, heat pooling low in my stomach. It was a confusing need to have Madeline—no, Ms. Duval, envelope me completely. Using her first name felt too intimate.
Her fingers swept through my hair again, tugging just enough for my head to tilt back. The pressure sent a shiver through me.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice light and velvety.
I swallowed hard. "Yes."
Drops of water dripped down my neck, just along my collarbone. Ms. Duval gently wiped it away with her thumb, the little contact sending jolts of desire down my entire body.
I felt her hand stop right on my neck, my pulse beating loudly under it. "Do you want me to stop?"