Calypso was greeted by a voice before the lights finished blinding her.

“Ah… Ms. Calypso Grimes, am I correct?”

The girl didn’t even know who she was for a second. Her senses discombobulated her, and it took moments before the over-sensory faded…

For Calypso to realize that she’s showed up to her first college class. With everyone, from students to the professor eyeballing her.

“…I-I-I—” Calypso looked around in confusion.

“Three I’s in one breath? I assure you that you’re making quite the first impression already, no need for more egotism. But, I did ask you a question.”

Calypso had to focus, so she focused on the professor.

She had a messy head of black, entangled locks that grew past her shoulders. Her face barely peeked out of the locks, being weathered and worn despite seemingly young, with rounded glasses that barely hung off the nose. Wearing a light green suit top that looked in better shape than her hair, with a long white skirt with a floral finisher that hit her ankles, which black dress shoes appeared under.

Calypso had to stop further, trying to meet the woman’s gaze, but it was too late. She felt like she was gawking at the professor’s wheelchair—making it a spectacle versus apart of this woman’s everyday life.

“Sorry, yes, I’m Calypso…”

The professor gripped her wheels, angling herself to face Calypso, “Thank you, Ms. Grimes—I never thought that transfer students were more literal nowadays. Is there any explanation that you’re so late to my class and showed up at the near end of it…?”

Calypso looked down at herself before anything, trying to drown out the faint laughter she heard. An excuse to look bashful (which was very real), but to confirm that she’s actually dressed right now—which was a baggy yellow shirt and black shirt with sneakers.

Calypso rose and shook her head at her professor. All of this was trivial, given how she’s fighting an oncoming panic attack, and trying to shake off the effects of an actual fume state.

“Well, at least I value honesty,” the professor was blunt as she was banal. She gestured toward a free seat.

As Calypso walked towards this seat, she gripped at her old school bag—she even had her school bag! It was buried in one of her suitcases—she had to actively find it! This went beyond a blackout episode, beyond anything “normal”.

So into her own head, Calypso slipped as she sat into her desk, fumbling into it.

“Drugs are pretty rad, huh--?”

Calypso turned her head at the swift slap to the side, just in time to see the target say “ow”.

A shaggy haired youth, red shirt with a screaming and faded explosion on it with blackened jeans. Very noticeable buck teeth with uncaring eyes crested with bushy black eyebrows. He rubbed at his side, as a tan girl in cheerleading gear scowled at him with her arms crossed.

“I call it like I see it. She’s clearly zoned the fuck outta her mind, I’m allowed to say shit—”

Calypso heard the professor clear her throat, before she could get a name. It started with J.

“Ms. Grimes joining us gives me the excuse to reiterate the rules. We operate on a strictly professional relationship, I expect you all to perform at high-end level, and finally, we are all adults here. We respect each other at a baseline level and I will not accept anything less. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Moses,” the class sans Calypso mewled out. Finally giving her a name to this intensity.

“Now, since we’re on the same page—due to Mr. Barker’s slight he made, I expect 2 pages, written or typed, about yourselves and what book impacted you the most. I’ll be lenient and not mark off for grammar, given that I wasn’t going to give you an assignment on the first day until now. Thank you and dismissed.”

The hall was filled with groaning as everyone shuffled their things away.

Calypso felt a kick behind her chair. It wasn’t a forceful one, more disguised as a stray movement.

“Thanks a lot, bitch…”

The J-Baker boy proceeded to walk in a huff, into the outgoing crowd of disgruntled students, with the cheerleader arguing with him as they exited the door.

“Ms. Grimes. A moment, would you?”

Calypso snapped out of fog trance once again, blinking excessively. She looked to her professor, and struggled to get out of desk, before grabbing her bag and walking forward.

Mrs. Moses leaned forward, putting her arms on her desk with her fingers tented together.

“I understand that things have been harrowing for you lately…”

Calypso’s eyes widened, searching the woman up and down.

Only for Mrs. Moses to raise her hand, “As they gave me your files, they made a note of it. I was puzzled and asked if that’s a massive breach of privacy, but knowledge can’t be taken back: just used in an even-handed manner. But sincerely, my thoughts go out to you during this trying time.”

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“Thank you…” Calypso felt the words spill out of her mouth. None of what was happening felt real yet.

“But. When you come into my classroom, I expect you to perform like the rest of your peers. By entering, you’re telling me that you believe that you’re ready to be educated and prepared to work on your career. Keep that in mind next time, when you’re unfit and debating about attending.”

“Of… Of course. Of course. Again, sorry…”

Mrs. Moses pushed her glasses back onto her hazel eyes. “That being said. Go to our consoler services and request another week or so off. Clearly you’re not fully recovered, and it’s irresponsible to have you continue as if nothing’s wrong. I recommend it.”

Calypso perked up, once again out of her fume state. It was odd hearing this blunt, detached tone suddenly have warmth to it.

Only to see the professor looking through her papers, reading and paying the girl no mind. “Hope the rest of the day proves better for you, Ms. Grimes. I can’t wait to meet you properly.”

Calypso could only nod, knowing that the teacher couldn’t see. Grabbing her head, she immediately made her way for the exit.

“Oh, and I am expecting those papers when you return,” Mrs. Moses voice cut though. “Along with the other possible outstanding work—but I won’t mark off points for tardiness, at least, so you have my kindness—”

***

Calypso forced herself to walk back to the house. She could’ve found Sal somewhere on campus, to gain a ride back, but that would raise too many questions she did not have the answers to.

As she was running, out of breath even before reaching this point—earlier in her journey, Calypso was surrounded by woodlands. She looked down, at the dirt road despite kicking up particles into the air, she didn’t care. She knew that they were there anyways, that they were here too, that they were watching.

She took the advice of her cousin, travelling down the Old Vessel, let it lead the way back, doing the near-impossible task of making sure she was heading towards the woodlands but not taking in the landmarks for later.

There was no more trust in herself. Her body is fearing her, she’s unable to focus, now there’s lapses in memory. Calypso was going insane, and it could be felt on many levels. She needed to direct her possible last moments of lucidity in one last ditch effort.

It was a struggle, but Calypso pushed through the forest, onto the fields of farmland, finally arriving at the house, storming up the white porch.

Jerking the door open and rushing inside, Calypso didn’t care about the rather confused mumbling that echoed within the walls. She made a break for the bathroom, pushing herself inside as she tumbled onto the floor with a thud.

Scrambling upwards, Calypso hoisted herself using the tub edge as a prop, before cranking the one of the nozzles. The sounds of rushing water muffling Calypso’s very audible pants of worry.

Calypso’s head turned towards the knock at the door so fast, she was convinced something popped.

Knowing that it wouldn’t have mattered, as she stared hopelessly at her scrapped leg seal the wound in seconds.

“Cal? Cal is everythin’ okay in there--?” Uncle Bradley asked, clearly bothered.

Calypso couldn’t hide the very real emotional distress that was brewing in her tone, nor her struggles not to cry.

“I ne-need a moment, please,” Calypso sputtered out. “I-I want to be alone r-r-right now, please, I-I’m sorry—”

“…Okay. Just know we’re here to help, al’ight? Shout if ya’ need to.”

She had to hold her simpering, so she could hear the pregnant pause, followed by the sounds of walking down the stairs.

Shuffling back onto her feet, Calypso faced the sink and turned it on for good measure. Taking in her utterly frazzled look in the mirror. Her hair stuck to her face that poured with sweat, her eyes beady, her lips dry.

“I don’t know… Who I’m talking to… Whatever you are, whatever I am—but I demand to get an answer right now…!”

She had to grip the sides of the sink, as Calypso started to away as sudden vertigo rocked her fevering mind.

“Tell me…” Calypso struggled to raise her voice, struggled to keep her eyes open. “Face me! I-I fought to live and I am going to live, da—darn you! Now tell me what I need to know--!”

She snapped into place. Her face that was just stretched into accusation and fear suddenly settled into a blank daze. Her eyes wide open, her mouth agape. Not exactly hung open, but parted in pause.

Calypso saw as her body shuddered in a chill. But that wasn’t quite what happened, it was her trying to define something that was completely unnatural.

Her muscles didn’t just stiffen, but… produced what could only be called a fleshy wave of tension. Slowly and roughly rolling up her body. All with a sickening squelching sound.

She immediately reared back, slamming into the wall as she struggled to scream for a moment, only pained squeaks followed out of her trembling lips. She was on the verge of wailing out, was about to grab her head in despair before a glint of light shined in one of her eyes, that were about to close in frustrated desperation.

As Calypso looked on, tilting her head in confusion steeped in dread, that she’s gotten her answer. Too bad she didn’t like it.

It was the gem. The gem that was her seemingly immaterial and immortal soul, was resting in the sink that was filling with water. Droplets and water residentials were splattered everywhere, showing that it somehow flopped out of her.

There was nothing to it, Calypso immediately fished it out. As big as her dainty palm, the disk was clutched by her shaking fingers as the girl then turned everything in the bathroom off, and stormed out of it.

Slamming the door of her new room, Calypso stared at the gem, panting as she focused on the one blemish on an otherwise beautiful work of art.

The visible red shard that was embedded within.

She didn’t know what she was doing, but Calypso jumped on the bed, throwing her bag off, digging into it in a frenzy pulling out a binder. Opening it to a fresh page of paper and a pen at the ready with her other hand, she yelled at the stone.

“Alice, you got me into this mess—you explain what the hell is going on, right now!” Calypso spewed venom in her voice. “You’re still with me, I know you’ve been watching, not doing anything—you want me to forgive you for fu—screwing up so massively?! Then clean your mess!”

Calypso instantly felt the pull.

Her hand took a life of its own, scribbling wildly against the sheet, as Calypso looked on, actually surprised that this worked. Shocked that Alice was here the entire time, not helped he once.

Before any resentment began to settle, Alice was done writing with Calypso’s hand:

“limited words, 5 or less

Im so sorry

I fucked up massively

Not only killed you

But gave you a curse

Im sorry

Im sorry

Im sorry”

Calypso couldn’t breathe. A lump formed in her throat, and her hand was taken again as Alice wrote the next page:

“they call you:

the monster’s monster now

not monster but not human

transforming nearing, hours away

been happening, chipping you away

cant stop

cant ever stop now

I cant remember anything else

im sorry”

She let go of the pen, she let the gem fall to the wayside. Calypso could only whimper softly into palms.

Until she felt her face rumble under them, with an accompanying growl.

So panicked, she flailed her arms and didn’t care where they landed. Until she looked down, seeing her hand hit the gem.

Getting a perfect view of what happened along it’s surface.

The milky waves weren’t design… They were clusters of screaming faces in agony. Transient in shape, until they morphed into Calypso’s very visage. Each one, while portraying different expressions, all were emotions that she harbored. And even then, despite how visceral the imagery was, they were still muted. Pathetic.

She couldn’t throw it, because who knew what could happen if it shattered. She couldn’t run away, because that results in her family looking for her. No matter what she could do, it all became meaningless.

Calypso could only wait, as she shivered and rocked in place. Prepare and wait.