The Professor's Pet: A Dark Revenge

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I told you, lower the dose. Youre keeping her under too long. She can't handle it.

In the dream, two faceless men argued over what to do with me.

I woke up aching, my muscles screaming, convinced it was just another stress-induced nightmare.

Desperate for relief, I ran to the campus psychiatristthe hot one everyone whispered aboutbegging for help. He smiled, his voice like velvet as he handed me a prescription. "Take these. You'll sleep like a baby."

But I never saw it coming.

That night, the moment the pill dissolved, that familiar voice from my nightmares didn't stay in my head.

It whispered right against my ear.

Chapter 1

"Look at you gorgeous."

A large hand rested across my collarbone. Fingers long, elegant, lethal.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see his face.

"Iris! Wake up!"

I was yanked back to reality.

Savannah sat on the edge of my mattress, her brow furrowed in genuine concern. Her cool palm pressed against my forehead. "Iris, you're burning up. You look flushed. Do we need to go to the ER?"

I lay paralyzed in my dorm bed, soaked in cold sweat. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, threatening to crack the bone.

Every inch of my body screamed in protest, a deep, bruising ache settling into my muscles.

"I'm fine."

The words scraped my throat like sandpaper.

The cheap alarm clock on the desk ticked. Tick. Tick.

I rotated my wrist. A phantom sting flaredvisceral, real.

Right before Savannah shook me, those two lunatics were debating the best way to bind my hands and suspend me in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

Fourth time this week.

Ever since I moved into this dorm, the dreams had been relentless.

Always the same two men.

Always faceless.

One was older. Gentle, terrifyingly patient. Long, artist fingers, a heavy luxury watch cold against my skin. His voice was a low rumble that turned my knees to water.

The definition of a gentleman monster.

The other was younger. He smiled when he spoke, but he was chaotic, radical. He didn't know the meaning of mercy.

They both claimed to be my boyfriends.

And they seemed determined to break me.

Every time I woke up, the exhaustion was physical. Heavy. Id have to grip the bedpost just to stand, waiting for the trembling in my legs to subside.

"Iris? We're gonna be late for Anatomy Lab. You coming?"

Savannah hugged her textbook to her chest, snapping the thread of my thoughts.

I was a med student. A hardline atheist. I believed in science, not spirits. So I categorized these vivid, twisted dreams as simple academic burnout. High stress, low sleep.

I couldn't tell Savannah. She was sweet, delicatethe kind of girl who watched horror movies through her fingers. I wasn't going to trauma dump my twisted psyche on her.

Chapter 2

Friday afternoon. The Anatomy Lab was a suffocating crush of bodies.

Savannah had already staked out prime real estatefront row, dead center. "Iris! Over here!"

She waved from the swarm.

My brain was still in a fog, hijacked by the nightmare. I missed the turn.

Too many people. Too much noise.

I tried to back up, clutching my textbooks against my chest, when my heel clipped something.

Gravity took over. I tipped backward, bracing for the hard impact of the linoleum.

Thud.

I didn't hit the floor.

A hand firmly pressed against the small of my back.

It was broad. Scorching hot. Solid as a wall.

With a casual, terrifying strength, the stranger pushed me upright, killing my momentum instantly. "Careful. We wouldn't want you getting wet before we even start."

The laugh that followed was low, gravelly, and ripped straight through my nervous system.

My legs turned to water.

That voice.

Id heard it a thousand times. In the dark. Whispering filthy things against my ear while I couldn't move.

Am I hallucinating?

Savannah was behind me, mouthing a word with wide eyes: Maddox.

I turned my head slowly, fighting the stiffness in my neck.

Maddox.

The Ph.D. candidate. The TA. The guy everyone said was a genius.

He stood right behind me, head tilted, features carved like a dark deity. Under the sweep of thick lashes, his black eyes danced with amusement. "Do you need me to handle you?"

Cold sweat pricked my scalp. My fight-or-flight response screamed Run.

I scrambled back, putting distance between us. "No I'm good. Thanks Maddox."

His gaze didn't waver. It traced my face, heavy and deliberate. He smirked. "Take your seat then. Class is in session."

We had never spoken before.

Half the female population on campus was obsessed with him, but he was a ghost. No girlfriend. No drama.

Just whispers. Rumors that his tastes ran dark.

Afternoon sun sliced through the blinds, hitting the podium.

Maddox stood there in his white coat, looking like a fallen angel. The light fractured around him.

Snap.

He pulled on a pair of white latex gloves. He picked up the scalpel.

The latex looked like a second skin. His fingers moved with lethal grace, dancing between muscle and fascia.

Savannah squeezed my hand under the table, her voice trembling with excitement. "Iris, did you know? His dissection technique is legendary."

She was too loud.

Maddox paused. He looked up.

His pale, indifferent eyes locked onto mine. There was no warmth. Just a clinical, predatory assessment. A look that peeled back my skin and checked the organs underneath.

My scalp tingled.

I shrank back, hiding behind Savannah's shoulder.

On the stage, Maddoxs fingers flipped and sliced. Efficient. Brutal.

His voice was cool, detached, explaining the structure of the human body. But my brain superimposed the nightmare.

I remembered those hands.

I remembered how they moved with that same terrifying competence. Manipulating me. Playing with me until I shattered and begged for mercy

I am losing my mind.

I needed help. Professional help.

The second the lecture ended, I ignored Savannah calling my name. I grabbed my books and bolted.

Chapter 3

The Campus Health Center was a short walk from the quad, tucked away on the south side.

Friday afternoon. The waiting room was a petri dish of coughing students and administrative chaos.

I checked in at the Psych Department and waited until my name flashed on the screen.

I pushed the door open.

The office was dead silent.

Heavy, golden-hour sunlight bled through the blinds, slicing the room into strips of dust and shadow.

Click.

The mechanical sound of a mouse button cut through the quiet.

My eyes locked on a hand. Pale. Elegant. Resting lightly on the mouse. A luxury watchtoo expensive for a university salarycaught the sun, firing a blinding glint into my eyes.

Backlit by the window, I could just make out the sharp angle of his jaw and the silhouette of broad shoulders tapering into a lean waist.

Dr. Julian.

The university's golden boy. A psychology professor with a brilliant mind and a face that could launch a thousand bad decisions.

He radiated a cold, ascetic energy. Like a statue you weren't allowed to touch.

"Where does it hurt?"

The question was soft.

My heart stuttered.

That voice.

It was a low, resonant baritone that bypassed my brain and went straight to my legs, turning them into jelly. It was the same calm, horrifyingly gentle tone Id heard in the dream.

The voice that told me to look in the mirror while giant hands pinned me down.

I am actually losing it.

I was projecting my hallucinations onto real people. First Maddox, now Julian. Everyone was a suspect.

"Miss? Are you with me?"

Julians gaze dropped over the rim of his silver wire-frame glasses.

I snapped back.

I licked my sandpaper lips. He wasn't writing notes. He was leaning back in his leather chair, arms crossed, waiting with terrifying patience.

"Sorry. Yes. I'm listening."

I straightened my spine, sitting like a child in the principal's office. Even looking at him felt like a violation. Like blasphemy.

"Relax. Just tell me what's going on."

His tone shifted. Rich, soothing. It smoothed over my jagged nerves like a balm.

I nodded, my fingers knotting together in my lap. "I've been having nightmares. Every night for a week straight."

Heat rushed up my neck. My face felt like it was on fire.

Julians eyes sharpened behind the lenses. "Nightmares? Any specific details?"

My throat closed up. "Its not exactly a nightmare. Its Im being handled."

I couldn't say molested. I couldn't say ravished.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Julians cold eyes.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His fountain pen hit the mahogany desk in a slow, rhythmic beat.

He leaned forward, invading the empty space between us. "Interesting. And what do you think is triggering this?"

I gripped the hem of my shirt until my knuckles turned white. "Stress? Maybe? My sleep quality is garbage."

"Are you tired when you wake up?"

His voice was hypnotic, dragging the truth out of me.

"Yes, Professor. I'm drained."

He smiled. A small, knowing curve of the lips.

He looked down and scribbled something on a prescription pad. The sound of the pen scratching against paper was loud in the quiet room. "You're just overstressed, Iris. Don't panic. I'm going to give you something to help."

He tore the sheet off and held it out.

"Take this on time. It will help you sleep deeply."

I took the paper, relief washing over me like cold water. "Thank you, Dr. Julian."

I just wanted the dreams to stop. I prayed the pills would kill the shame that woke me up every morning.

Chapter 4

That night, I sat at my desk. The orange prescription bottle hit the surface with a hollow plastic click.

Savannah watched me, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Finally, she spoke. "Did you go see Dr. Julian today?"

My head snapped up. "How did you know that?"

"Nothing."

Her gaze shifted, avoiding mine. She handed me a glass of water. "Here. Drink."

I took it. The water tasted sweet.

"By the way, Iris," she added, her voice too casual. "I think Maddox is actually a really good guy. What do you think?"

A good guy?

Maybe.

I didn't have the energy to debate. I swallowed the pill with the sugary water.

The chemicals hit fast. My brain felt heavy, wrapped in cotton. I sank into the darkness, praying for eight hours of blank, dreamless oblivion.

But

The nightmare didn't wait. It kicked down the door.

The two men were back.

A cold, familiar voice cut through the haze. "She's not doing well today. Dial it back."

The light was blinding white. Clinical.

My mind screamed Maddox, but my vocal cords were paralyzed.

Then, a low, mature chuckle vibrated against my ear. A hand stroked my hair. "Shh. Be a good girl. Just a routine checkup. I won't hurt you."

I tried to thrash, to scream, but my limbs felt like lead. I was trapped in my own body.

Three distinct scents flooded my nose.

Pine. Citrus. And the sharp, acrid sting of disinfectant.

It was the smell of them mixed together.

God, it was twisted. Even in my sleep, they were forcing me to review exam material while they pinned me down.

"So cute," the second man whispered.

Then he lowered his head and kissed me.

I panicked. I bit down, fighting for air.

Pain.

A sharp sting on my lip. The metallic taste of copper flooded my mouth. I groaned, choking on the blood.

I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned. I gasped like a fish thrown onto dry land.

A hand slid under the back of my head, tilting it up. Fingers tapped my cheek. Hard.

"Iris. Breathe. You're going to suffocate yourself."

Maddoxs voice floated in, laced with a dry, helpless amusement.

"I told you. Lower the dose. You're keeping her under too long. She can't handle it."

THUD.

The sound shattered the world. The dream dissolved instantly.

I woke up on the hard linoleum of the dorm room floor.

The water pitcher I kept by my bed was overturned, a puddle spreading toward my knees.

Savannahs sleepy, muffled voice drifted down from the top bunk. "Iris it's the weekend. If you're not gonna sleep in, at least stop wrecking the room"

"Sorry"

The word was a slur.

I felt like I had just run a marathon with a weighted vest. My muscles trembled with a deep, cellular exhaustion.

It happened again.

The medication didn't help. It made it worse. Longer. More vivid.

I gripped the bed frame, hauling myself up. My arms shook violently under my own weight.

I needed water.

I poured a glass with trembling hands. As soon as the rim touched my mouth, a sharp, stinging pain made me flinch.

Ouch.

I stumbled into the bathroom and flicked on the harsh fluorescent light.

The girl in the mirror looked wrecked. Cotton spaghetti-strap pajamas hanging off her frame, hair a rat's nest, cheeks flushed a feverish red.

I leaned in closer to the glass.

Right there, on my lower lip.

A small, fresh cut.

A bite mark?

It was bleeding.

A cold dread pooled in my stomach. I slowly raised my arms, turning my wrists outward.

On the pale, delicate skin of my inner wrists

Faint, red ligature marks.

I stared at my reflection, my eyes widening until they burned. The color drained from my face, leaving me ghost-white.

This this wasn't just a dream, was it?

Chapter 5

I was spiraling.

Was I a pervert? Was my subconscious truly this depraved?

Or was it

"Iris? Earth to Iris."

Savannah waved a hand in front of my face, snapping the thread of my panic. "We have that seminar in ten minutes. Attendance is mandatory. Draconian policy, remember?"

God, I envied her. She looked so rested.

Ten minutes later, I was dragging my carcass toward the lecture hall.

My lower back throbbed. My legs felt like Id done a thousand squats with a barbell. I moved with the grace of a ninety-year-old woman.

Predictably, we were late.

"Latecomers. Front row."

My ass hadn't even hit the chair before the voice cut through the air.

I looked up.

Maddox.

He leaned against the podium, hands gripping the edges, a mild, pleasant smile on his face.

The room was dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Last semester, he failed fifty percent of the class. He was the Grim Reaper of the Anatomy Department.

I kept my head down, shuffling to the front row with Savannah, praying for invisibility.

Maddox didn't yell. He didn't even raise his voice. He just paused, scanning the attendance sheet. "Miss Iris. Care to explain the tardiness?"

My voice was a pathetic squeak. "I couldn't get up."

"Oh?" He arched a brow, his gaze heavy. "Rough night? What were you doing?"

I choked. My brain scrambled for a lie.

"Cardio."

A ripple of laughter went through the room.

Maddox didn't laugh. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Is that right? Well, as I'm sure you know, cardio requires consistency to be effective. You might need"

He paused, his eyes darkening just a fraction.

"more practice."

My face went nuclear. "Right. Okay."

For the rest of the lecture, he ignored me.

Savannah leaned over, resting her chin on her hand, and whispered, "Maddox is a total catch. Genius, clean record, future shining bright. If I were you, I'd be locking that down."

I frowned, confused. "Why would I be locking anything down?"

To the outside world, Maddox and I were strangers. We existed in different stratospheres.

Why did Savannah sound like she thought he was into me?

She stalled, aggressively clicking her pen. "Oh, you know just saying. You're missing the point."

When the lecture ended, I packed my bag in record time. All I wanted was my bed.

"Iris. A word."

Maddoxs voice stopped me at the door. Cold. Professional.

I hesitated, then walked back to the podium.

He reached under the desk and slid a black paper bag toward me. "For you."

"What is it?"

"Lidocaine patches."

He looked down, organizing his lecture notes with precise, clinical movements.

"For the muscle strain. From all that cardio. It helps with the recovery."

""

My jaw dropped.

He glanced up, catching my expression. "Savannah mentioned it. She's working as a Research Assistant for my advisor now. We talk."

"Oh I see."

I stood there, stunned. A wave of guilt washed over me.

I had been projecting my twisted nightmares onto him, and here he was, being nice?

That explained Savannah's weird behavior.

She must have misinterpreted his "professional concern" as interest. She was trying to play matchmaker.

Chapter 6

I walked back to the dorm that afternoon, carrying a bag of snacks as a peace offering.

Savannah was hunched over her desk, face bathed in the blue glow of her laptop.

I moved silently, intending to surprise her.

But when I leaned in and saw what was on her screen, the smile died on my lips.

She wasn't studying anatomy.

She was studying knots.

Not surgical sutures. These were complex, heavy-duty restraints. The kind designed to immobilize a human body completely.

Snap.

Savannah sensed my presence. She slammed the laptop shut with a violence that made me jump. "Iris! You're back early!"

She spun around. Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding mine. Panic radiated off her in waves.

My brain was a static mess. I mechanically tossed the bag of chips into her lap. "Bought you these."

She tossed them aside without looking, grabbing my hand instead. Her palm was clammy. "Thanks"

She was usually polite. But this? This felt wrong.

A cold shiver walked down my spine.

"What were you just"

She blinked, the mask of innocence sliding back into place. "Oh, just practicing knots. For surgery class. Professor wanted us to drill the basics."

"Is that right?"

I kept my voice steady, but my pulse hammered.

Liar.

I was a med student. I knew what a square knot and a surgeon's knot looked like.

What she was looking at was rope bondage.

Savannah hooked her arm through mine, forcibly changing the subject. "I'm starving. Come on, Iris, let's go grab dinner."

I stared at her back as she dragged me toward the door.

A terrifying theory began to take shape in my mind.

Maybe the "dreams" were hallucinations.

But the physical evidence? The marks on my wrists? The fatigue?

That was Savannah.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I couldn't sleep in this room another night. Not with her.

I filed a room transfer request with Ms. Griffin immediately.

The reply was bureaucratic torture: Processing. Earliest availability: next Wednesday.

That meant I was trapped in this cage with Savannah for another three nights.

Night fell.

The ritual began. Savannah handed me the glass of warm honey water, smiling that sweet, roommate smile. "Drink up. It helps."

I took it. I waited.

The second she went to the bathroom, I poured the entire glass down the sink.

Lights out.

I lay in the dark, muscles coiled, waiting for something to happen. Adrenaline kept me wired for hours, but eventually, exhaustion won.

I blacked out.

I opened my eyes to sunlight.

Real, bright morning sun.

Savannah was already dressed, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like silk. She looked like the picture of innocence. "Iris! I'm heading to the cafeteria. Want me to grab you a bagel?"

I sat up.

My head was clear. My body didn't ache. No phantom hands. No suffocating dreams.

It was the first restful night I'd had in weeks.

"No thanks. I'm not hungry."

I stared at the ceiling, letting the air leave my lungs in a long, shaky exhale.

I was right.

It was the water. She was drugging me.

That's why I couldn't wake up. That's why I was so weak.

For the next few nights, I played the game. I took the water, dumped it, and slept like the dead.

Savannah started to crack. She watched me with wide, guilty eyes. She started buying me expensive snacks, bringing me coffeelittle "apology" gifts for a crime she thought I didn't know about.

I didn't call her out. I couldn't.

I just had to survive until the transfer went through.

Chapter 7

The day before my scheduled room transfer, I went back to the clinic.

Partly to thank Dr. Julian. Partly to ask how to manage the residual, clawing anxiety that still kept my nerves frayed.

I didn't make it to the elevator.

"Iris! Hey!"

Tyler, the Student Union President, intercepted me at the entrance. He was grinning like hed won the lottery. "What are the odds? You sick?"

He had been asking me out for months. Relentless. Cheerful. Oblivious to the word no.

Running into him here was inconvenient.

"Yeah. Just heading to the Psych Department."

His eyebrows shot up. "Academic stress? Hey, don't worry about it. I got you. I'll walk you up."

Before I could protest, he grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the stairs.

The Psych floor was quiet.

Tyler waved at Nurse Wendy at the front desk, bypassing the check-in entirely. He marched me straight to the end of the hall and threw open the heavy oak door.

"Professor oh, sorry, Dr. Julian! I brought a student to see you"

His voice died in his throat.

The office was flooded with light.

Julian was sitting behind his desk, legs crossed, the picture of relaxed authority.

But he wasn't alone.

Maddox was there. Leaning against the window sill, hands buried in his pockets, posture lazy and loose.

At the sound of the door, two heads turned in perfect unison.

Backlit by the blinding afternoon sun, their faces were shadows. But I felt it. The weight of their attention. It hit me like a physical force, prickling the skin on the back of my neck.

Tyler scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "Sorry, the nurse said you were free, so I just"

"Who are you to Iris?"

Maddox cut him off. His voice was flat. Bored.

Tyler puffed out his chest, flashing a grin that was meant to be charming. "I'm the guy chasing her."

Silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

Julian interlaced his fingers. A low, dark laugh vibrated in his chest. It sounded like ice cracking.

By the window, Maddox slowly pulled his hands from his pockets. He straightened up, his lethargy evaporating into something sharp and dangerous.

The air in the room grew heavy. Suffocating.

My face burned. "Tyler stop talking"

Tyler didn't read the room. He gave me a helpful shove forward. "Anyway, I gotta run. Catch you later!"

Bang.

The door slammed shut.

He was gone.

It was just the three of us.

I stood frozen near the threshold. My heart began to hammer a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Why do they know each other?

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll just go"

I turned for the handle.

Maddox moved.

He didn't walk; he prowled. I stumbled back, my boots scuffing the carpet, but he was faster. He loomed over me, blocking out the light.

His eyes were dark, endless pits of amusement.

He reached past me. His arm brushed my waista phantom touch that sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

Click.

The lock engaged.

My breath hitched.

Maddox leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"See, Julian? This is your brilliant plan. You let her rest for a few days, and she goes out and finds a stray dog."

Boom