The room smelled of paper and perfume. Soft yellow lamplight flickered across Ladina's pale skin as she sat curled on her bed, knees pressed to her chest. Clad in nothing but a black camisole and boyshorts, she chewed her thumbnail until it bled. She didn't notice.
Her eyes were locked on the collage spread out across the table: photographs, faculty records, printed articles, even screenshots from old social media. At the center of the chaos was Eliane's face, circled in red ink.
Professor Eliane Veras.
Respected. Intelligent. Beautiful.
And the only woman Matteo ever looked at like that.
Ladina had always known obsession. It clung to her like a second skin. But never had she felt this particular flavor of betrayal. Matteo.....her Matteo.....had eyes only for Eliane, even now, even after everything. Ladina's lips twisted in a smile that never reached her eyes.
She reached for her phone and dialed a number she had never saved.
A man answered on the first ring. His voice was breathy, eager, deranged. "Yes?"
"I have good news for you," Ladina said, still staring at Eliane's printed face. "You can have what you wanted."
The man let out a sound between a gasp and a laugh, sharp and hungry. "Finally..."
The walls were white. Too white. Sterile like a hospital, yet suffocating like a cell.
Annelise stood in the center of the room, arms wrapped around herself. The dress clung to her awkwardly. It was short, asymmetrical, more fashion piece than garment. A modern design, no doubt expensive....the kind of thing seen on runways, a blend of sensuality and vulnerability. But here, in this room, it felt like a mockery.
Her thighs were bare. Her stomach was exposed by the diagonal cut across her midriff. No shoes, no jewelry, just her and the biting sense of exposure. There was no bed, only a thin mat on the floor.
She was a prisoner dressed like a doll.
The door opened with a soft click. Eliane stepped inside.
Annelise blinked.
Professor Eliane was wearing the exact same dress.
The older woman froze in the doorway, her expression a blend of shock and shame. The dress clung to her mature figure in ways that made her visibly uncomfortable. She crossed her arms instinctively, her face flushed.
"This is.... absurd," she muttered. "Wearing this in front of my student..."
Annelise didn't speak. She watched Eliane, trying to understand her professor's humiliation.
Then Matteo entered.
His expression was blank, eyes scanning both women. For a second longer than appropriate, his gaze lingered on Eliane.
"Professor," he said softly. "Sleep with her."
He turned and left, the door shutting behind him like a final verdict.
Silence.
Annelise sat on the mat, legs pulled close. Eliane remained standing, arms still crossed. Neither woman spoke.
Minutes passed.
Then Annelise broke.
"He used to follow me around like a dog," she whispered. "I laughed at him. Called him names. Told others he was disgusting."
Eliane sat beside her, slow, careful. "I saw him once, crying outside my office. I pretended I didn't."
Annelise looked at her. Her eyes were swollen, but dry now. "We did this to him."
Eliane placed a hesitant hand on the girl's shoulder. Annelise leaned into her. Then collapsed, sobbing.
The room temperature dropped suddenly.
A mechanical hum filled the silence. A vent hissed. Cold air poured in.
Annelise shivered.
Eliane noticed it next. Her skin goosebumped. The dress offered no warmth. There were no blankets, nothing else in the room. The mat was thin. The floor beneath it radiated cold.
Their thighs turned red. Lips trembled. Stomachs contracted instinctively.
Annelise whimpered. Eliane moved closer.
"We have to keep warm," she said, voice trembling.
They huddled together. At first, it was awkward...limbs fumbling, bodies uncertain. But the cold pressed against them like a threat. They clung tighter.
Annelise's face buried against Eliane's shoulder. Eliane's arms circled around her. Their legs tangled. Stomachs pressed. Breath mingled.
There was nothing more in it. Only desperation.
Their bodies rubbed against each other, not out of desire, but instinct. To survive. To feel less alone.
Eliane whispered, "I never thought.... he would turn into this."
Annelise answered, "We broke him, didn't we?"
Neither had the strength to speak after that.
They held each other tighter. Sleep, eventually, found them.
In a darkened room across the hall, Matteo sat before a monitor.
The screen glowed with soft static light. Two figures, locked together under the cold. Breathing slowly. Shivering less now.
Matteo didn't smile. His face was unreadable. Only his fingers moved, hovering over a dial.
He thought about turning the cold lower.
But he didn't.
He leaned back. Eyes half-lidded.
"Now you understand," he whispered.
And the room fell silent once more.