Hearts Academy Ch. 06

What had happened? He wasn't himself then. He was so primal, so aggressive, so uncaring for his partner. Why couldn't he remember any of that?

He screamed once more as he felt his skin crawl at the thought. He screamed until the pain from his throat came surging back. He opened his eyes as he swallowed a mouthful of saliva in hopes of it being some sort of salve for his odd injury. It did not work but finally he could think straight once again.

A low groan echoed from the other end of the room as the door swung open. Mademoiselle Jolicoeur burst in with a picture of concern on her face. She was quick on her feet even in those pointed heels and rushed towards him when she spotted him so low to the ground. From behind, another woman walked casually behind her. She emanated this sense of singular focus like she had shut out the entire world beyond the clipboard she held in her hands and currently occupied her gaze. As Mademoiselle Jolicoeur stopped short before his bed, she just continued on and past her still never looking at him in the eyes.

"Dana!" Mademoiselle cried out in a panic. "I heard you scream. Are you alright?"

"Fine." He raised himself on to the bed. "Just a bad dream."

"Good afternoon, Dana Morgan." The woman spoke beside her. Her voice was dispassionate and almost the polar opposite of the vocal shrieks of concern from Mademoiselle. While Mademoiselle bent to his level, she remained rigid and tall towering above them both as her brown-green eyes focused on him from behind a pair of old spectacles. The woman was much older than Mademoiselle with a weathered appearance that could have only formed from the harsh storms of time. Her dark red hair beginning to fade in luster yet her milk-white skin face still clear of wrinkles and scars. No doubt from an expensive and extensive routine. She reached into the pocket of her white lab coat before removing a pen and writing something down on her clipboard.

"Morning?" He winced as the pain from the rest of his body pulsed through him once more.

"Miss Morgan, are you aware of any previous illnesses or conditions prior to your arrival at Hearts Academy?"

"No? And-"

"Are you aware of any events, trauma, or injuries that may have impaired you in any way recently?"

"No?" He furrowed his brow.

"Ok." She nodded, her pen never stopping. "Have you lost consciousness before?"

"Excuse me?" He leaned forward. "I lost consciousness?"

"For six minutes." His eyes widened at her words. "You regained consciousness for a brief moment in the hallway as we were carrying you here."

"Where is here?"

"This is the medical office of Hearts Academy." Mademoiselle chimed in. "It's located in the administrative dorms."

"Administrative dorms?"

"Can we focus ladies?" The woman sighed. "Dana, you lost consciousness in the Mademoiselle's office. Do you remember this?"

"I," He paused. The feeling of the soft carpet underneath his body as his vision grew darker flashed in his mind. "Yes."

"Good!" She smiled for the first time. "Good. Mademoiselle Jolicoeur informed me this was not the first time you lost consciousness. In fact, you had done so once before when you first came to the school. Do you remember this?"

"Yes." He nodded. Dana had indeed fainted when he saw Charlotte and Marie fucking when he opened his room's door for the first time.

"Due to these circumstances, I wish to take as little risk as possible with your health. You will stay here in the medical office for precaution of another episode and in that case, I will get you an immediate transfer to the closest hospital where you can get the best care for whatever ails you."

"Sure." He sighed leaning back against his cot. "How long?"

"Not long." She smiled again. "Unless you want."

"No." Dana shook his head. "I have work to do."

"Just a joke." She chuckled. "I'm Madame Marlowe."

"Dana Morgan."

"I know." She laughed. He leaned forward for a moment as he heard her laughter and the one quality he had missed before.

"You're not french?"

"I am not." She nodded. "As are you."

"I am!" Mademoiselle smiled. "Monsieur, since this office is located just below the administrative rooms I will say that you might be visited by some of your teachers and you should expect Mademoiselle Woods and Leblanc to stop on by to continue some lessons."

"Nothing too strenuous." Madame Marlowe quickly turned to her. "Not on my watch."

"Of course not." She smiled. "I'll see myself out."

"I'll see you for dinner, Joy."

"Perhaps." Mademoiselle nodded before quickly walking away and out through the door. Madame Marlowe sighed deeply before sitting at the foot of the cot.

"Miss Morgan, I'm sorry this is the way we must meet."

"It's alright." He forced his frustration at the repeated address deep within himself. "I'm not very available."

"A student of solitude, are you?"

"I try to be." He nodded. "I try."

"As do I." She laughed. "I prefer the quiet company of my garden and a good cup of tea."

"That sounds lovely." He smiled. "I prefer my pencils and paper."

"Ah, I should've known. You have the bearing of an artist. Quiet, reserved, and eyes full of wonder and observation."

"You're quite observant too."

"I always find comfort in the details, Dana."

"I do as well."

"I always figured artists were very chaotic. Going with the ebb and flow of life rather than fighting against the tides." She stood from his bed to sit across from him on the bed beside him.

"Only if the tides bring me where I want to go." He sighed. "Sometimes you have to fight."

"Quite right." She smiled. "Always good to have a bit of a fight in you."

"Quite." He echoed her words back to her.

"Would you like to indulge me if you are able?"

"I don't think I have anything better to do."

"You could lie and count the ceiling tiles. I've done that one before." She laughed.

"You really like details huh?" He smirked. He liked her so much better when she was like this. Less animatronic and more animated. She had a kindly aunt vibe to her. One that he wasn't used to at Hearts.

"Boredom is a powerful motivator. I don't see many students for long, so I have a lot of time to myself."

"People don't get sick?"

"It's not that the students and teachers don't fall ill. It's more that they get easily remedied problems. Most things can be solved with bedrest and some medication. It's so common that I keep room in the administrative hall stocked with the most used cures. But I can't prescribe a cure for you since I do not know what exactly plagues you. If at all for that matter."

"Right." He nodded. "So, if someone gets the flu or something they'd come here."

"Correct." She nodded. "It's rare that I get a student but not too rare."

"Which explains the beds." He motioned to the room around them.

"For the students that might contaminate the rest of the student body or those who need intensive care. You fall into the category that might need intensive care."

"Why?" He stared back up at the ceiling. A small little cobweb lay in the corner just to the left of him. Whatever called it home had long since vanished.

"If you were to fall victim to whatever plagues you once more in a secluded setting you could be seriously or grievously injured. Imagine falling unconscious while walking down a flight of stairs or near anything that could hit your head. But what if you were to do so while no one was around to help you? That would certainly be beyond disastrous."

"Right." Dana nodded. No one should lose consciousness repeatedly like he had done at Hearts Academy. It could be a sign of brain damage or even something far worse.

"In any case, I'd like to examine you."

"Examine me?" He locked his eyes with her. He couldn't see her intention clearly and he didn't know her at all. Could she be well-meaning? Or could she just be like all the others had taken advantage of him.

"I am medical professional and I am interested if there are any physical signs that may have attributed to your condition."

"I told you what I know." He quickly answered. He didn't want to take any risks nor play into anyone's hand once more. He had memories, urges, and feelings that were not his own rattling around in his skull. He could trust no one.

"I won't press." Her smile faded. "Tell me about yourself Dana."

"Why?" He didn't let the satisfaction of his victory creep on to his face. He focused on the wall past her with a steely gaze. He needed to be cold, calculating, and unreadable now.

"I like to know my patients better than whatever is on their file." She tapped her hand on the clipboard that sat beside her.

"I'm an artist who came from the United States to seek inspiration here." He sighed.

"Well, Miss Artist do you have any other interests?" He ignored her misgendering him once more.

"I read and I write notes in my notebook about people, places, and things."

"Very interesting." She laughed slightly. "Made any friends on campus?"

"Some."

"A woman of many words." She smirked. "I feel like I'm getting nothing the clipboard tells me."

"And what does the clipboard tell you?" He bristled again at the wrong address of his gender. Did the school itself mark him as a woman? Even when he had applied and was recognized as male?

"I'll read it to you." She pushed up her glasses on her nose and cleared her throat slightly. "Dana Morgan, age eighteen, birthday is December 4th, 2001, has black hair and blue eyes."

"Blue eyes?" He spoke up quickly at that.

"Unless my vision is going, yes. Is there something wrong?"

"No." He lied. Even his records had the wrong color. Whatever was going on, he would surely get to the bottom of it.

"Right, I'll continue. It says that you are one-hundred-and seventy centimeters tall and weighing fifty-eight kilograms. You don't have any preexisting conditions or ailments and no familial illnesses to worry about. You came here on a scholarship and you currently live with Charlotte Durepos and Marie Sabourin."

"That all?" Most of it was true. He was fairly healthy with a clean bill of health and no issues in his blood to even concern himself with. Most his issues stemmed from his parents' personalities rather than their physical blessings.

"All that really you need to know. The rest are my notes and some private information about your roommates which I will not share with you."

"You know them?"

"I know Miss Durepos very, very, very well. She comes here often for contraceptives when she goes out into the village or even around the Academy. Miss Sabourin, I met once when she caught a stomach bug. Very sweet girl."

"Yeah." Dana agreed.

"How do you get along with those two?"

"Fine. You said Charlotte goes to the village?"

"The village outside of the school? She's not supposed to, but she sneaks out to visit the townsfolk occasionally and get into trouble." She laughed to herself. "She's a very chaotic sort. I rather enjoy her impromptu visits."

"You ever been?"

"Once. Not my type of scenery."

"You prefer gardens."

"I prefer gardens." She nodded. "Is there something wrong with that wall?"

"Huh?" His gaze snapped back to her.

"You've just been staring at it very intently. Is everything okay? Are you disassociating?"

"Disassociating?"

"A disconnect from the real world. Daydreaming, spacing out, the like."

"Not that I know of."

"Well, that's good to know." She muttered picking up the clipboard once again. "I can check that off really quick."

"Should I be concerned?"

"No. You shouldn't concern yourself with whatever my notes are. They are not for you."

"But they are about me."

"Yes." She nodded with a sigh. "But they are medical notes and hypotheses. They mean absolutely nothing."

"It's still concerning." He sighed this time. "Having someone take notes about you."

"I understand. Just put it out of your mind."

"Fine." He rolled away from her to face the window. "How come no one from the village comes here?"

"How come strange people don't come visit a private gated school for young adults?"

"When you phrase it like that, I sound stupid."

"I figured the explanation would be obvious to you if I did."

"I'm not a fan of sounding stupid." He pouted with a sigh. She laughed at that and Dana heard her adjust herself on the cot.

"I'll keep that in mind. At the risk of sounding stupid myself, that's not hair gel in your bangs is it?" He resisted the urge not to shiver in disgust at the reminder of Charlotte's act still upon him.

"I'd like to pretend that it is." He answered after a moment of silence. "Otherwise it's real disgusting."

"You have many romantic encounters at the school, Miss Morgan?"

"The only one's I care about are-" He stopped. Did he even care anymore? Care about Warren Cox? Care about that beautiful, sweet, and innocent boy who he so viciously railed into the hardwood of the tower? The boy who he lost his memories with. He needed to find him. He needed to get the answers directly from him.

"Dana?" Madame Marlowe's voice was concerned for the first time in their long talk. He didn't know how to respond. How could he?

"My boyfriend." He spoke the words like they were a secret only they shared. Pressure built behind his eyes as he felt a tear escape and roll down his cheek to the pillow below.

"What is he like?"

"He's wonderful, beautiful, sweet, kind, and-" He felt the lump in his throat. Oh god, he really loved him. He really loved Warren Cox. He whimpered slightly as he brought his knees to his chest.

"I'm sorry." She spoke softly. "Can you describe him? Maybe I can get a little revenge for you."

"Why?"

"Nothing's more beautiful than a young girl's heart and nothing nearly as fragile. I've had mine broken a few times over the years. Older women like me owe it to the younger girls to get a little justice."

"Don't." He said suddenly. He didn't understand what was going on but he did recognize one fact. He still loved Warren and he would suffer no harm to come to his lover.

"Must have been some special boy to get a beauty like you. Was he handsome?"

"He wasn't handsome. He was beautiful. Slender, lithe, and graceful with raven hair that was dyed violet at the ends. He has the most beautiful minty green eyes."

"Did Grace transition? I had a student just like that a year ago who looked exactly like that. Very shy girl unfortunately. She feared her own shadow."

"Did she ever mention any siblings?" He turned back to face her. She was still jotting notes carefully on her clipboard without ever looking back at him.

"Grace was an only child. Though, they don't need to be related to look similar. For instance, I've seen many other girls who look just like you." He paused for a moment allowing her words to wash over him and through him. He could feel the indignation, the anger, and the frustration at her comment. Madame Marlowe didn't mean it to be a slight. Dana understood that perfectly clear, but it was as if she had struck him directly in his Achille's heel. Even to an absolute stranger he still radiated absolute femininity.

"I'm not a girl."

"Oh, you too, huh?" She scratched something off on her clipboard. "Very well. Do you have a new name I can put down for you?"

"What? No. You're misunderstanding me. I'm not a girl. I was born a boy."

"Oh." She paused. "Yes, I knew that."

"No, you didn't! You've been calling me Miss this entire time!" He groaned.

"No, I knew that." Madame Marlowe smirked.

"I don't believe you at all, Madame." He turned away. "Not in the slightest."

"Otherwise I feel stupid and I don't like feeling stupid. You make a very pretty girl, Dana."

"So, I've been told." He muttered.

"What was your boyfriend's name?"

"Warren Cox."

"Hmm," She muttered, and he heard her pen scribbling even more notes down. "if he comes by should I tell him to go away?"

"No." He sighed. "If you see Warren then tell him to come see me immediately."

"Of course, Miss Morgan." She chuckled.

"Stop that." He frowned. "Just don't."

"Just a joke. It made me laugh."

"Well it wasn't funny to me." He pouted.

"Sensitive topic, eh?"

"I don't know Mister Marlowe, you tell me."

"Oh no I hate that." Her voice full of disgust and displeasure. "Point proven."

"Thank you." He sighed pulling the blankets on the cot back around him once more.

"I suppose before I leave for a bit, I'll go over just a few things. First, you are forbidden to leave this office unsupervised until I deem you medically fit and sound. I shouldn't hear any complaints about this one because we just had a very nice conversation on the whys. Second, I or another staff member of Hearts will bring you your meals. Usually it will be whatever we are having upstairs but if you are feeling particularly in the mood for something from the main dining hall just try to let me know. Third, you will bathe in the bathroom located just outside this room. I will be standing outside of the door when you do so. Same for when you need to use the restroom. Fourth, visits from other students are expressly forbidden without my agreement. I'm very easy going so really don't be too worried about saying no. Five, I'm always available for you via a small remote inside the nightstand. If you need something, press it and I will come to your aid. Try very hard not to need something late at night. I will return at dinner." The cot groaned as she stood up from it and he heard her begin to walk away.

"Thank you, Madame." He called to her. "I appreciate your help."

"You are going to bathe tonight before we head to sleep." She called back. "It's not great to sleep with 'hair gel' stuck in your bangs for an entire evening." He heard the door shut behind her before he could even say another word.

Dana turned on to his back to face the ceiling tiles. He had found himself in an odd place both physically and emotionally. His boyfriend, his sweet wonderful boyfriend, had possibly betrayed him in a way that was beyond words. His roommate's semen was coating his beautiful hair and he had no memory of ever submitting to her in that way. He was losing consciousness randomly, had memory-like dreams that felt all too real to be anything but and worst of all was the fact that his eyes had randomly changed and no one had seemed to address it as odd besides himself.

It made him feel insignificant. He wasn't making his own choices or his own moves. Instead, he was playing to the tune of someone else's song. There was no help to be gained from his teachers, his friends, or even his parents.

He was well and truly on his own.

Now, he had another stranger to contend with. Madame Marlowe, a middle-aged British nurse in a French private academy. She was just like the others. Just like all the ones who cared about themselves more then they cared about him. She was nice, she was sweet, but she was all too self-absorbed in her own thoughts and in her own notes.

Much like Dana Morgan liked to be. Were they kindred souls? One obsessed with botany and medicine and himself obsessed with vitality and creativity? A student of the arts and a student of the mind. How much did they share in common besides their love of solitude and elaborate notetaking? Even so, how much of her cared about his current condition enough to put aside her own thoughts.

He couldn't trust her. He concluded quickly and suddenly. He couldn't trust any of them. He could only trust himself. Strangers lie, cheat, and deceive. Strangers had their own hidden agendas. Strangers had-

"Excuse me?" A woman's voice pierced the silence and chaos of his inner thoughts. It was not Madame Marlowe or even Mademoiselle Jolicoeur. It was light, breathy, and full of life. It was the voice of an angel, a saint, or perhaps a siren. He had no chance but to answer her call.