Blood Dripping Fingertips by Meghan Escott (read ebook pdf .txt) 📕

my thoughts throughout the hour. Professor Alcove had us concentrating on a picture on the board that she had drawn. We had to think about what it meant to us. It meant nothing to me so I started mentally wondering around the classroom and every time I got distracted; Professor Alcove would come over and cut my right arm. In the end, she got a seat and pulled it up next to me so when my mind wandered she didn’t have to waste her breath walking from her desk down to me. Once I got distracted by her being there and probed into her mind. For that she gave me seven cuts, the sacred seven, and spelled out the word ‘NO’ with them. That got my attention and I tried hard the rest of the hour to concentrate on the drawing. By the end of the lesson, she had moved around onto my left arm and had done at least five cuts on that side as well as littering my right arm with cuts with about half a centre meter in between each cut. I would never wear a sleeveless top to that lesson again.
When the bell went, I let out a sigh of relief and looked away from the board. I looked at everyone else who only had one or two cuts on their arms. I moved my fingers to heal the cuts but Professor Alcove cut my two out stretched fingers to stop me.
When I walked over to Sam he had bandages in his hands. He had obviously thought I would do badly in that lesson. He bandaged both arms up to where the cuts then examined the word on my right arm. He shook his head and then put the bandage over it. He handed me one of my black jumpers and I slid it on to cover the bandaged cuts.
He then led me to Drawing and Art which I thought I would enjoy. I’ve always liked art but never thought to take a class in it. Again, there was no one I recognised but that just proved my theory. I walked in and took my seat on the far left at the back. Professor Blake said we could draw what we wanted and then we would have to present them at the end.
Every one started drawing apart from me. All the girls were drawing things like Gothic rock chicks and the boys were all drawing complicated cars or vehicles. I stared at Professor Blake and started to think of his mark. It was a bright purple and was the most complicated I’ve seen, second only to Sam’s. It has lots of thin and straggly lines that connect to bigger and bolder lines. They all join to create a basic mixture of a saint and an angel.
Some one coughs and I come back to the lesson and I look at my paper. I have a perfect replica of Professor Blake’s mark bang in the centre of my page. I turn to the girl next to me who is quietly drawing away. She looks up and smiles when she sees me looking at her. I smile back but stare at her mark when she’s focused on her own drawing again. I think about her bright blue mark. It has stars in a complicated design. They are all different sizes and have different amounts of points. I think about how good that would look on Starla.
Some one taps their pencil on their desk loudly and it brings me back into the lesson. I look at the page again and next to Professor Blake’s mark is a perfect replica of the girls next to me. They are almost overlapping each other so I put jagged but stylish lines around each mark. I can’t see anyone else’s mark but I can see the time. It had only been ten minutes of the lesson which meant I could do eight or nine more drawings allowing time to pack up and show to the class. I raise my hand and Professor Blake comes over to me. I turn over my paper so he can’t see but he nods when I ask him whether I can sit at the front look at my class mates.
I silently move my chair to the front of the class and bring my sketch pad and my pen with me. A couple of people notice what I’m doing but Professor Blake goes over to them and says something in their ear and they go back to work.
Where I am sat I could see everyone’s marks and began to concentrate on them closer to me then moving back. Each time I have finished a drawing something brings me back to the lesson and I start a new person.
By the end of the lesson I had twelve perfect replicas of chosen classmate’s marks. They ranged from simple to medium to hard and then to really complicated. I accidentally made a swirl with the hardest in the middle and the easiest on the outer of the page. I made jagged lines around each one so you could distinguish which was which. I moved my seat back to my desk and sat staring at my work.
One by one, Professor Blake asked students up to show their art work give us a name and tell us what it is. When it comes to me I get up nervously. I picked up my sketch pad and made it to the front of the class where everyone was looking at me expectantly.
When I flipped over the top of the sketch pad, the people who I had drawn marks from gasped. The sketch pad was quickly plucked from my fingers by Professor Blake and examined by him. He asked me to point out whose marks I had drawn and then asked them to come to the front desk never taking his eyes of the drawing of his own mark.
I worked from the outside in and pointed out each person. They came up and the pad was placed next to their mark at various angles. When the eleven students I had drawn had come up and been examined Professor Blake looked up at me.
“Exact copies.” He said in awe. He began to shake his head. I went to my bag and took out the drawing of Josh’s mark I had done two days before and gave it to Professor Blake. This time he nodded and smiled and looked up at me. He crocked his finger in an order to go to him. As I do, the bell goes and people hurry out of the classroom.
“I want you to do something for me.”


Chapter Eighteen

“What does he want you to do?” Sam asked me on our way up to my room.
“He wants me to draw a portrait of everyone’s mark in the dining hall and every time a new pupil comes I draw it on. People’s names will be underneath their marks and teachers will also be on it. It will be a lot of work but I think I can do it with the two spare hours I have a day and the weekends and the Drawing and Art lessons I have.” I said to Sam excitedly.
“I’m not sure about it. You won’t have any time to spend with Josh or Angela. You will be going into lessons and then coming out of ten hours of education into drawing a portrait in the hall. You’ll be up a lot of the day and be tired all the time. This is only your second week. I think you should take it steady.” He said back as we entered my room.
Josh was on my sofa as we came in and he stood up and hugged me as I came in. He noticed I was wearing a jumper when I hadn’t been that morning. He took one look at it and then pulled up the right sleeve his suspicions confirmed. I mouthed to him I would tell him later and he nodded.
“What do you think she should go steady with Sam?” He asked Sam gripping my hand.
“She has been asked to do a portrait in the dining hall of everyone’s marks, adding to the portrait each time a new pupil or teacher enters the school. Professor Blake has asked her to give up the two remaining hours of her night left and her Drawing and Art lessons and her weekends to do this. I think she should do it but give up a whole Saturday or Sunday to do it instead of a bit every day. What do you think Josh?” Sam answered Josh.
“I think the same as you.” He answered squeezing my hand.
“I’ll do it every Saturday. How’s that?” I asked the both of them but Sam answered.
“Brilliant. I will talk to Professor Blake after our lesson. Josh you are welcome to stay and observe if you so wish.” Sam said to me and then to Josh. He nodded and glanced towards me. I nodded as well and then the lesson began.
Sam undid the bandages on my left arm, the better of the two and began to work. He did all of his talking through his mind to mine. Today he tried to send powerful amounts of many emotions through mind to mind.
The first was happiness and I smiled at the feeling. The next was sadness and I started crying. He cut my arm once and tried again. I held back the tears but only just and Sam cut me again to ensure I had no reaction. The next was anxious. I started fiddling with my necklace and my earrings and kept on tapping my feet. I got cut every time I moved to fiddle with something until I thought against the feeling. He did many emotions then he did many at the same time. Every time I moved or made a sound, Sam cut my arm.
When the half hour was up I looked down at my arm and saw that there were as many cuts as the other arm and multiple cuts on my fingers. Josh moved over to me and when Sam’s back was turned healed one of the cuts. For that, his hand got slapped and Sam cut again only this time, deeper and harder. I yelped at the pain but slapped my cheek to stop myself otherwise Sam would cut again.
He smiled at the attempt I made to silence myself and then left the room. I did the bandages up again on my left arm and went over to Josh who had retreated to the sofa when he got slapped. I sat down next to him and rubbed the cheek where he got slapped. He unwrapped the bandages on my right arm to look at the damage. His gaze froze when he saw the ‘NO’ made out of seven cuts. He looked up at me wanting an explanation so I gave him one.
“In Thought Control the Professor draws a picture