The Good Teacher

Guy returned to his room and went to bed. Sleep evaded him for a while until he caught it by force. It was difficult descent into the land of dreams, but Guy achieved it nonetheless.

The darkness wobbled and rippled like the surface of a still pond after an interloping pebble breached it. Guy felt a faint suction, and then a hard thud as he found himself deposited in an unknown place. The world around him was dim and dank. Drooping foliage surrounded him, like somewhere deep within a dense forest. Yet he could hear no fauna. He could hear nothing, except his heartbeats.

Thrown into an unknown home such as this, Guy surprisingly didn't panic. His perception told him that he had arrived here willingly. How? He did not know - he could not recollect. His memories only told him the validity of the current time instance, everything before was a blur. Guy's body acted on autopilot and trudged forward, through the shrubbery. Curving around the towering trees, ducking under the entangled vines, and leaping over the exposed roots.

He walked for an incalculable amount of time. He did not know how long because he did not feel any discomfort or tiredness. He didn't even know which direction he was going. He just followed where his feet took him.

At that instance, a pained whimper broke through the woods and assaulted his ears. It was faint, almost a whisper, but it resonated like large church bells in his mind. Once again, Guy's feet took over. With an increasing pace, which turned into a jog and then a sprint, he navigated through the maze with uncanny proficiency.

The sound repeated, but much louder this time. Maybe he was getting closer. Maybe the source was evoking the sound more frantically.

The whimper turned into a painful, soul-shattering cry. Guy's environment zoomed past him as he finally burst through the last layer of trees. He was now in front of a hill - bare except for the well-kept garden around it. At the tip of the hill, was a quaint cottage. Its facade beckoned with an inviting warmth, but through the ajar door, Guy could feel an abominable evil leaking through.

At this moment, Guy exited his autopilot state and his full consciousness was dropped into his body. His mind rumbled and whirred into motion.

"Where am I?" He muttered. And in response, another shrieking cry for help resounded. It was coming from inside the cottage.

The voice sounded young, feminine, but hoarse. Almost as though it had been put through the wringer many times before. It was heartrending to hear.

Guy gulped audibly as a realisation dawned upon him. He could already imagine what he was witnessing. This place, this cottage, that sound. But he didn't want to believe it.

"It's all a lie. This is just a dream," he repeated. Often acknowledging that one was in a dream was enough to give them full control over the environment. Guy kept telling himself that it was all a figment of his overactive imagination. But his subconscious was unwilling to concede control. The ambience remained static, and the wailing voice boomed within his mind. Shaking him to his core.

Unable to take it any longer, Guy started to walk briskly up the hill and approached the cottage. As he approached, the agonising screams started to claw into him mentally and emotionally. Guy couldn't hold himself back, his blood was pumping and his rage was boiling over. Not once had Guy ever felt this way in his entire life, not in this one and definitely not in his previous one.

He forced himself into a sprint and burst into the house, pushing through the door with his shoulder. With an audible bang, the door flung open and flew off the hinge.

With veins popping out of his eyeballs, Guy scanned the room. His ears perked up and searched for the source of the sound. But he was only greeted with silence - ear-shattering silence.

The anger in his heart started to fester. What sort of games was his mind playing? He collapsed to his knees and started to pummel the ground furiously. Each punch caused the world around him to shake. The madness locked inside him started to burst out. He did not know how else to express it except by physically venting it.

The anger was unending and as he released it, more formed and took its place. Guy was thoroughly shaken to his core after hearing Grace's revelations. He only wore a calm facade as a mask. Deep down, he was infuriated. He wanted nothing more than to find the man who hurt her and twist his neck. No, that would be too quick. Too easy. If the world was fair, there had to be retribution!

"AAARGGHH!" Guy bellowed as he brought both his fists down.

BOOOM!

Dust tumbled from the ceiling and cracks started to spread out all over the floor, originating at the point of impact.

"This is a first," a voice commented.

Guy jerked his head sideways and looked into the darkness surrounding him. Even though the cottage had windows, no light graced its interior. The only source of light was the entryway through which Guy burst in. From the shadows bathing the room, a figure stepped out.

Guy's eyes widened in shock as the figure's face peeked through.

"It's you!"

"It's me!" the other Guy parroted with a joking intonation. "You feel anger. Why is that?"

Guy didn't respond. He stared incredulously at the familiar form of his past self.

"Even when the mother and her two daughters died at the hands of the abusive man, you didn't feel an inkling of rage. Yet now, all of sudden, your heart aches and your soul quakes. Why is that?"

"Why are you here?" Guy retorted.

"Why can't I be here? I am you, you are me. I am where you are, everywhere, all the time," the other Guy responded.

Then, silence prevailed in the room.

"Why do you look so shocked? Did you think that I was confined behind that mask?" The other Guy mocked. "That mask is the portal to let me enter the foreground, when in fact I exist eternally in the background."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Guy barked back infuriated.

The other Guy shrugged and said, "Let's call it an experiment. I wanted to test something. I wanted to gauge your reaction."

"What are you talking about?"

"What were you expecting to see when you ran in here?" The other Guy redirected. "Were you hoping to see the face of the man that defiled that woman? For the sake of argument, what would you have done if you saw the man here forcing himself upon that girl? Would you have stopped him, or would you have remained passive as you usually do?"

"Stop joking around with me."

"Come on now, humour me for a second."

"Of course, I would have stopped him!"

"At what point would you stop?" The other Guy hinted.

"I..."

The other Guy waited for the mumbling Guy to format his answer. But after minutes of inactivity, he said, "You know that you must kill him. Would you be able to do it though?"

"I would," Guy answered with a resolute expression. His face stuck somewhere between a concerned frown and cold, calculated decisiveness.

"Ain't that intriguing," the other Guy said sarcastically. "Saint Larks, willing to draw blood? Stop kidding yourself! You couldn't hurt a mosquito sucking your blood in front of you. What confidence is there in annihilating someone else - a human no less?"

"He is no human. He is a monster. An inhumane monster. And he should be treated as such. What he did to Grace... it is unforgivable."

"With what strength? You talk a big game, but when push comes to shove would you even have the power to enact your decisions?" The other Guy challenged.

"The congregation you are creating for our Church, do you think you can protect it from the infidels who seek to demean and destroy us?"

"What are you talking about?"

"THE SECT! You act so enthusiastically, but you seem to forget that a Sect is a mercenary group at heart. Mercenary work involves fighting, maiming, and killing. Can you even do it?"

"If I must."

"Talk is cheap."

"What do you want me to do?!" Guy shot back.

"If you let me have control. I will solve everything for you," the other Guy tempted. "This revenge would be the top priority. After all, there is no place for selfish deviants in a world built on the Absolute Truth."

"Enough!" Guy demanded. "Release this farce this instant."

"No."

"Do it!"

The other Guy did not respond and simply dissipated. Guy's anger returned twofold. In a fit, he rushed towards the walls of the cottage and flung his fist against it. A fist-sized hole formed as the wood shattered. With another punch, the structure buckled. Guy did not pause and resumed the rage-filled demolition operation.

He then beelined to the sleeping quarters. To his disgust, he found that there was only one. Which meant that the man slept with her from the start. He probably shared the bed with her, endearing himself with the innocent child. Lowering her guard!

With another primal scream, Guy grabbed the mattress and bedframe, and cleft it in two. He proceeded to pummel the walls, hell-bent on destroying the disgusting place.

Once the cottage was no more, he moved on to the garden. He uprooted and burned the fields. He then desiccated the soil, removing all beneficial minerals from it. He then proceeded to pummel the ground, levelling the hill.

Guy's carnage extended outwards. He fell the trees and burned everything to ashes. His anger knew no bounds. He did not want this awful place to exist in his mind. Even a remnant of it, be it a figment, was disgusting.

After what felt like years, Guy stopped and beheld the carnage he had wrought. The world was burning around him. The ground was charred with soot and debris. The skin of his fist had torn in many places. His bones were showing, blood was caked everywhere. Yet Guy still hadn't found peace. It was just that there was nothing else to vent it out on.

Guy reined back his anger and sat down into a meditative pose. He slowly descended into a deep trancelike state, until he suddenly felt a pop.

Guy opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling of his room. The first rays of the sun peeked through his windows and tumbled across his face.

Guy held his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths to suppress his emotions. The anger hadn't subsided. It was just that there was nothing else to vent it out on. Nothing justifiable, at least. Not yet.