Hearts Academy Ch. 06

Disclaimer and Notes: Disclaimer and Notes: Hearts Academy is a dark horror/mystery story focusing on the reluctant feminization of a young artist. There are many themes such that cause it to be disturbing for those who cannot handle terror or dread well.

I hope you do enjoy this chapter if you decide to continue reading. If you do enjoy this chapter, please leave a comment/feedback and let me know!

Thank you.

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ACT 2: VENUS

Cerulean, sapphire, azure, the color of the morning sky. These were all words that clashed together in his fragile mind. A thought bubbled to the surface nearly immediately. Was he not born with turquoise eyes? A color of magnificent beauty and uniqueness? It was strong, bold, and bright. It was a feature he had seen time and time again in his own reflection yet, the young adult who stared back at him had none of that. There wasn't a single spec of emerald, olive, forest, sage, or jade. There wasn't a single drop of viridian to be seen. Just the bright warm sky blue without a hint of clouds. A picture of eternal bliss.

But it was not his. This was not his color, his shade, or pigment. It was impossible yet a reality, a figment of his own delusions yet so clearly in front of him. A shaking pale hand reached towards their face in concert with his own motions before raising the index finger of that hand and gently prodding at the anomaly.

Dana felt the pressure of his own actions. The immediate weight of the truth upon him. That was truly him. It was not an imposter, not a dream, but his actual person. In some strange circumstance, his eyes had changed color.

The change was nearly instantaneous with the realization. His stomach churned with reckless abandon, his palms began to sweat, and his throat began to burn as an angry lump formed in his esophagus. A quiet contained spark of panic tore through his thoughts. Until he could focus on the odd sight before him. Like a slow build in a concerto, his turmoil seemingly grew in volume until the full cacophony of his subconscious could be forced into the forefront.

So, it did with violent action. The sweet songs of his anxieties mixed with the dulcet tones of his confusion combined into a beautiful symphony of pure bodily chaos. His stomach swirled and turned over on itself like a violent storm, his eyes began to water, and a steady stream of saliva drippled forth. A tidal wave of bile surged forth and like stinging magma erupted from his mouth and on to the floor. His throat burned and a second stream of his spit fell from his lips. He retched once more falling against his vanity for support. In his mind, the chaos had manifested as a long-prolonged scream.

He felt his knees grow weak, his body heavier by the second, and surges of crackling adrenaline begin to take hold. His scream began to fade into the background as a certain kind of frantic madness set in. Dana's room had been perfect. The walls a delicate crème white, his floors with the color of snow. But now, he had added his own bit of color on to the décor. He had finally removed the pristine purity of the bedroom and claimed it as his own domain.

Horror turned to laughter and in turn, a small chuckle bubbled forth as he continued to stare down at his misshapen blob of filth at his feet. He wiped the sick from his chin as his chest shook with laughter. As the chuckle turned to a small giggle, to a chortle, to uproarious hysterics.

He didn't have much with him. Just two suitcases of undergarments he never wore, a few mementos from home, and various art supplies.

So, it didn't take much time as he stuffed it all back into his suitcases with the widest grin on his face. He just kept on laughing. Just chortling purely to himself with no regard for anyone else besides himself. There was no order, no organization, just pure and uncut chaos.

With a hop, he thrust himself back and on to the bed before nearly tearing the drawer to his dresser off as he pulled the small black object of his salvation out. Without any further hesitation, he turned his cell phone on for the day before dialing the one person who many have had the answers all along. The phone barely rang before he heard someone on the other end clear their throat loudly into the microphone.

"Morning Kiddo." His father's coarse morning voice echoed through the speaker.

"Dad, I need to talk to you."

"Whoa, whoa!" He laughed quietly. A sharp twang of anger rippled through him at that. Even if he knew that he only laughed when he was nervous.

"I want to come live with you."

"Whoa now, kid. I don't have any room or-"

"It doesn't matter!" Dana shouted into the phone. "This place isn't right for me. It's off. I want to come home."

"Homesick, eh?" His father chuckled nervously again. "Can't say I blame you. I remember my first euro-tour after all. Man, did I ever tell you-"

"I'm serious. Something happened Dad. Something really bad."

"You ok?"

"Dad, I think..." Dana paused chewing his bottom lip. He could feel the words in the pit of his stomach. The unfortunate truth of all that had happened to him the night before. All of it made him further sick to his stomach.

"You think?" His father echoed his words back to him after a moment.

"I think I was assaulted last night."

"Whoa!" He heard the clatter of falling objects in the background. "Kid, you serious? Like your teachers hit you?"

"No." Dana shook his head. "I just, I think something happened last night."

"What? I don't understand."

"I remember being with someone and then I woke up confused and covered in scratches and bruises. I think I was assaulted."

"Oh! Kiddo, you lost your virginity! Fuck yeah! There's nothing to worry about. I don't remember half of the times I've slept with anyone. Are you injured?"

"No."

"Are you sick?"

"No." He gripped the phone tighter in his hands.

"Then you're going to be just fine. Go talk to your teachers if you have any concerns but you're going to be fine Kid."

"Dad, I-"

"Say it Dana. Tell me you're going to be fine."

"But I'm not!" He nearly screamed. His eyes grew blurry again and his throat burned once more.

"Dana." His dad's voice became immediately cold and serious.

"I'll be fine." Dana whimpered. "I'll be fine."

"There you go. I've got a show tonight, so I'll be in rehearsal all day. Love you, Kid. See ya."

As soon as the line went dead, Dana threw the phone as hard as he could against the nearest wall. There was only one course of action left. Only one thing he could do.

Tears of confusion formed in his eyes and in a blink of an eye, Dana shoved himself hard against his bedroom door and into the common room that he shared.

The loud burst of sound cut through the air as he stood with a crazed and wild look in eyes while they darted from corner to corner of the room. Then they settled on Charlotte who only gawked in confusion and surprise back at him. He took a step further into the room when she leapt off the couch still staring at him.

"Dana!" She yelped quickly approaching him. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer. Instead, what gushed from his mouth was a crazed jumble of sounds as his hands frantically motioned to his entire body. He had so many questions. Why was he bruised? Why did his throat and ass hurt? Where were all his clothes? But his mouth refused to produce any semblance of coherent words.

"Do you want me to get Mademoiselle Jolicoeur? Do you need medical help?" Her voice was caked with concern and panic. He shook his head frantically as he swallowed hard causing the angry lump in his throat and the pain that already resided to shock him back to his senses.

"Blue eyes!"

"What?" She cocked an eyebrow as she continued to stare at him.

"Blue. Eyes!" He screamed suddenly jabbing his finger towards his eyeballs. She crossed her arms as a puzzled look spread across her face.

"Dana, you've always had blue eyes." She said plainly as if it was the simplest fact in the world. The sky is blue, the earth is round, fire is hot, and Dana Morgan had blue eyes.

Instantly, the fire his belly surged upwards and he felt the hot sting of sick at the back of his throat once again. A cold shiver flowed down his spine until his very limbs began to feel numb and weak. His body trembled as if he was left outside in the winter chill and his teeth chattered as well. His mind reeled in confusion as the anxiety completed its conquest. He wanted to fall, he wanted to lie on the ground and just give up. But Charlotte snickered quietly to herself as she pointed towards his head.

"Dana are you ever going to clean my cum out of your hair?"

His stomach gurgled in anger. His body recoiled in disgust. Before he knew it, he was out of their bedroom and in the main hall. The soft carpet underfoot provided the perfect path for his anxiety to take hold. Ever so quickly, it began to turn into anger. Into an all-consuming rage

In one single explosive burst of energy, he sprinted down the hall as fast as he could. His thighs were on fire and his footing was unsure and sloppy. In his strange serpentine dance, he reached one of the staircases on the second floor and ascended downwards. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he sprinted down the landing and shoved the door to the main corridor open. He sped past the empty lecture halls, past the stained-glass door, and then stopped directly in front of his destination: Miss Woods' studio.

He could feel his heart trying to leap out of his ribcage and pounding in his ears. Anger, frustration, and confusion began to part and leave only the haze of anxiety in their wake. Was this the right choice? Or was this yet another in a long list of mistakes?

The door was impossibly heavy. An insurmountable portal that he could not seem to summon the strength to cross. His feet seemed glued down to the ground and muscles screamed out in anger. He couldn't even seem to summon the strength to move this insignificant piece of wood. He was just frozen, paralyzed, in fear.

Miss Woods' was untrustworthy, violent, and secretive beyond belief. She skulked around the academy always on her phone having hushed conversations under a different pseudonym. So why was he standing in front of her door? What had driven him here? He didn't have time to ponder as Miss Woods' open the door herself dressed in a tight black dress and bags under her eyes. In her hands she loosely held on to the handle of a coffee cup.

"Dana." She yawned raising her freehand to cover her mouth. "What's up?"

"Miss Woods, do you have a moment?" He let his hand fall to his side.

"Yeah. Come on in." She turned on her heels in one smooth motion before heading back into the studio. The art studio was no longer full of vacant canvases instead various paintings of a glorious manor dotted the studio. It sat atop a grassy emerald hill where it towered over a verdant forest like an alabaster mountain. Lining the front of the home were hedges sprouting an arrangement of rainbow flowers. However, in all the pieces different scenes were unfolding. In a piece on the left side a group of women stood at the top of the stairs towards the entrance. In the piece in the middle, a young girl by the hedges reflects a small beam of light on to the leaves. In the piece to the right, a fire had begun to spread across the bottom of the manor. Bright flames that dances across the canvas threatening to consume the entire setting. He felt a pang of sadness at the fictional location. According to the chain of events all that beauty would vanish in the next one.

"These are beautiful, Miss Woods." He said after a moment.

"Thank you." She yawned again. "What brings you down here anyway?"

"I just came to talk."

"Yes." She smirked. "We're due for one of these."

"Due?"

"You never brought me a finished piece-" She paused rubbing her eyes with her freehand and blinking quickly as her eyes focused even more on him. "Hold on a second. Are you naked?"

"Yes..." He slowly spoke covering his shame without a second thought. Miss Woods' walked over to the nearest easel and then tossed a large white sheet at him.

"Put this on." She sounded personally offended by his body. Tones of shock, surprise, and revulsion dripped from her words. Dana's cheeks burned like fire as he wrapped the sheet around his waist and tossed the rest over his shoulder.

"Sorry." He whispered to her. "I wasn't thinking."

"I'll say." She chuckled. "I guess you didn't come down here because you felt bad, huh?"

"Felt bad?" Dana scratched his head. His mind was mush and sifting through the remains for any sense seemed a task far too exhausting for now.

"You were supposed to bring me a finished piece for me to evaluate." She shook her head hopping on to a stool beside her. "Remember?"

"No." He sighed walking further into the room.

"I thought so. Bring me the next piece you finish, or I will have to start calling you in for actual class."

"Alright."

"Dana, what's going on?" She sighed loudly.

"Miss?"

"Based on our couple of conversations I get the feeling that you would never be walking around naked just for fun. Your words are very hollow, your tone is soft, and you seem a bit distracted. So please tell me what's wrong."

"Miss Woods." He paused searching for the right words. How could he tell her what he felt? That he was mysteriously sore with no discernable cause? Or the fact that his memory had a massive gap from last night to now.

"Dana Morgan." She motioned for him to continue talking while she stayed perched on her stool.

"Tell me about this project." He found a small nervous chuckle escape from his lips. Just like his dear old father as he motioned to the pieces in the room with a wide sweeping gesture.

"Dana, you're deflecting from the topic at hand."

"I just didn't want to put on a skirt." He lied once more. He couldn't find the words for his situation at hand. How could he explain something he didn't even understand?

"Deflecting again I see." She rolled her eyes. "You really don't want to tell me what's on your mind huh?"

"I-It-It's not like that." He stammered taking a gulp of cool fresh air. As it traveled down his esophagus, he could only feel the burning pain from whatever was plaguing him.

"My project is an interpretation of surface level judgements. Far too often people see beautiful sights and believe it is the work of angels rather than the cruel machinations of demons. Each piece in the series reflects a hidden tragedy or sin about to unfold. Some are very noticeable while others are far more insidious and hidden from all but the most observant eye and others? Others are impossible to notice without a little help." She covered her mouth with her free hand to yawn once again. What a majestic idea! A series of pieces telling a story of misfortune and despair. A judgement on the sins that befalls most people. Even in the anxious haze Dana knew a great premise when he heard it.

"It's beautiful." He smiled.

"So, you said." She gazed sadly into the empty cup for a moment before brushing a stray lock of amber hair from her forehead. Her voice bit deep into his heart. It was cold and annoyed at his very being. He remembered her spark of violence and resisted the urge to take a step back in fear. Would she ever strike him?

"Miss?"

"You're not well, are you Dana?"

"I," He paused shifting on his feet in silence. "No."

"But you won't tell me why."

"Yes." He nodded.

"Is that also due to the semen caked in your bangs?" He clenched the sheet tighter around himself before shivering slightly. How did she know?

"I don't-" He started but she threw her head back with another sigh.

"We don't talk much or even at all, but you should know that I have a fairly discernable eye. I can see details and secrets with just a simple glance. It's my gift and curse. But you can talk to me about anything, Dana."

"Anything, Miss Woods?"

"Anything." She nodded.

"I'm not sure if I trust you, Miss." Those words got to her immediately as she nearly dropped the mug from her fingers. Her eyes grew wide and she flailed for a moment as the stool began to lean back too much.

"That's very interesting." She said clearing her throat. "I can't seem to think of any reasons you would have to distrust me."

"I can." He muttered slowly sinking to the floor. "I can think of a couple."

"Is this what's bothering you?"

"Part of it." He nodded. "Just a part."

"I've always been honest to you, Dana. I'm not one tell lies or otherwise use deceitful actions. I am an open book."

"Miss Woods," He sighed shaking his head. "I've seen you."

"Seen me?"

"Outside, in here, and around the Academy at all hours of the day."

"Well I live here-"

"Most people don't have three names." His words caused her face to turn pale as the cup dropped from her hand and bounced against the floor.

"Oh." She sighed. For a moment, just a single solitary moment, Miss Woods entire body language transformed. It was rigid, uptight, and nearly trembling. Her eyes darted to the ceiling and behind him before setting on his form. She fidgeted slightly while she adjusted her position on the stool.

"So?" He pressed her. She was no longer looking at him. She was looking beyond him to something unknowable, un-seeable, and terrifying.

"Which names." Her voice was quiet and almost completely devoid of sound.

"Lillian, James, and Lily." She winced at the last name drawing a deep breath through her teeth and shutting her eyes.

"I wish you hadn't heard that." She exhaled. "Dana, what do you know about gender?"

"I don't."

"Well, I didn't want to tell you but I'm a transgender woman. I go by Lillian, but I used to be called James. The third name was used by someone who hurt me. Someone who I don't want to talk about."

"I thought so." Dana sighed. He could see plain as day that she wasn't giving him the full truth and she likely never would.

"I used to play a game with someone I used to know. Would you like to play?" She had a look of disgust as she mentioned the game.

"A game?" Why would a game cause her such distress?

"It's called 'little birdie'. In this game, you and I go back and forth telling a secret for a secret. We cannot lie to each other or the game is over. If you lie, I want you out of my studio. If I lie, I'll forget about your missing assignment and not bother you for the rest of the year. Deal?" He cocked an eyebrow as he studied her face. It didn't even seem like a game. Or not one he'd ever play by choice. But if there was ever going to be any place or time to get her to tell the truth then it had to be now.

"I'll play." He nodded. "Who goes first?"

"I'll start." She smiled slightly. "Little birdie, why are you so down today?"

"I'm down because I woke up in pain and confusion. I have no idea what happened last night. What is Blackstone?"

Her entire face froze into the perfect picture of fear. That one word, that single utterance, had seemed to bring about decades of stress to her young body.

"Blackstone was my last place of employment. A finishing school for girls located on the western coast of the U.S." Her eyes narrowed back on to him and he felt a shiver of fear creep up his spine. "Little birdie, where did you hear that name?"

"I," He stammered clearing his throat. "I overheard you and Mademoiselle Leblanc."

"Oh." Was all she answered.

"I didn't mean to-"

"I know." She sighed heavily. "I know. But it's still rude to eavesdrop on other people's conversations. Do you have any other questions for me? Or is the game over?"

"Wasn't much of a game, Miss Woods." His gaze lowered down to the ground. Had he hurt her? Had his insistence on prying further into her own life been a step too far?