13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I only had fifteen minutes left of my free hour. I pelted down the stairs at full vampire speed figuring that nobody would see me dipping into my supernat powers whilst they were at PT.

Recruits weren’t allowed in the administrative office but I was hoping that the staff would be busy elsewhere. I glanced in casually and grinned when I saw that the office was empty. So far, so good. I slipped through the casement of the receptionist’s window and went to the TAC officer’s bureau where we’d witnessed Petty’s temper tantrum.

The office was immaculate. We’d helped clean it up but had left most of the organisation to our visiting TAC officer, Captain Engell, who was apparently a neat freak. Everything was precisely so, with nothing extraneous on his desk: he’d gone full minimalist. I bet he only had one book by his bedside at a time and shuddered at the thought.

I checked the time on my phone then started searching. The desk was an old, wooden kneehole design with a long narrow drawer for pens and whatnot, and three sets of drawers down each side. The bottom left and right drawers were locked but I found a likely looking key in another drawer. Bingo!

Predictably, the left-hand file drawer was full of files and they were all financial. I wasn’t surprised since Captain Engell did the academy’s books as well as teaching several classes. Although I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, I took the time to scan-read several of the files, putting them into my memory so I could examine them properly later.

The right-hand drawer was completely empty and there was no sign of dust. That piqued my interest: where were the documents that had resided here? I closed and locked it, then turned my attention back to files in the left-hand drawer. Annoyingly I ran out of time before I ran out of files, so I hurriedly relocked the drawer and sneaked out of the office.

I made it back in time for flag formation. Afterwards I used a little more vamp speed to run upstairs to my room and slug back my blood before hurrying to the cafeteria where I was expected to be for breakfast.

Frustratingly, despite my extra-curricular activities I wasn’t that much further along. I now knew that the ghost was protecting the academy – but I had no idea from what.

I joined my squad with a full breakfast plate. They all looked well rested because they’d used their extra hour to sleep in, the jammy gits. Oh well: I was always tired during the day so the extra hour probably wouldn’t have helped much. I was looking forward to the week of night drills when the schedule flipped and I’d finally get decent day sleep like a good little vampire.

I looked around the room for Sidnee and she gave me a wave. I joined her for class as usual, and we settled down for an in-depth lecture on DV: domestic violence. Fischer himself was giving the class, which only served to show how important the topic was to the academy. What was surprising – though perhaps it shouldn’t have been – was that DV wasn’t always a man hurting a woman but also vice versa. There was also a huge psychological component to it that I hadn’t really been aware of.

‘From the outside it’s easy to query why the victim didn’t leave their abuser,’ Fischer said. ‘Have you heard of Stockholm syndrome?’ We all nodded. ‘Good. Jones, what is it?’

Jones cleared his throat and looked mildly anxious at being called on by the head of the academy. ‘Stockholm syndrome is a psychological response in which a person being held captive forms a bond with their captor. This bond can lead the victim to develop loyalty or even affection for the person hurting them, sometimes to the point of refusing to cooperate with authorities against their captor. It develops as a coping mechanism because the victim’s mind seeks to find some level of safety or stability in an otherwise terrifying situation.’

Looking pleased, Fischer nodded. ‘You absolutely nailed that, Jones. You’re right. The same thing applies to victims of domestic abuse who often want to protect their abuser, which makes arresting that abuser a heck of a lot harder. Many victims are told repeatedly that everything is their fault, that they are responsible for every hit, every punch or kick. They believe that their own behaviour caused the abuse and, as a result, they don’t think the perpetrator is actually guilty of anything at all.

‘It will take time and a whole lot of understanding to get the victim to open up, let alone press charges. You have to be patient and conduct multiple interviews before the majority of victims even start to talk about these things. During those interviews, you mustn’t show your frustration or your anger at their situation. Any hint of aggression and they will close down and clam up – they’ll put you in the same category as the offender. You will be deemed not trustworthy and also potentially dangerous.’

It surprised me to see Thorsen nodding seriously. His notebook was open and he was taking a lot of notes. Maybe he wasn’t a total douche-canoe.

Fischer continued, ‘If you can, it’s often best to get a female officer to talk to the victim.’ He held a hand up to stop the questions as hands were raised instantly. ‘I’m not saying that because the victim is more likely to be female but because, whether you like it or not, women come across as being less aggressive and more empathetic. Even male victims sometimes prefer speaking to a female officer, though I have had occasions when male officers have been requested. Regardless, whoever interviews must be calm, quiet and attentive. You must listen. You should never interrupt.’

He paused. ‘If you take nothing else from the course, remember this: there are occasions where you should SHUT UP and LISTEN. Am I clear on that?’

We nodded. ‘What should you do?’ he asked again, eyeing us all.

‘Shut up and listen,’ we chorused back.

‘That’s right.’ Fischer moved on to practical issues – for example, most victims wouldn’t want the interview to be recorded in case their abuser got a hold of the tape – then talked about how such cases might affect us. He flagged up the need to assess our own mental health, particularly after dealing with particularly difficult or triggering cases. Some of the case studies he ran through were enough to make me feel physically sick. The whole class had been a real eye opener.

Finally we did some role-play and it was good to see everyone taking it really seriously. By the end of the morning's session, I felt a lot more prepared to deal with DV, though I hoped I wouldn’t have to because it made me think darkly of my sire, Franklin, and how different life might have been if I’d bowed to his demands and joined the conclave. Knowing about Stockholm Syndrome had me considering that episode in a new light; I doubted it would have taken me the full one hundred years to get indoctrinated into worshipping the vampire king.

I shuddered. Running away to Portlock was the best thing I’d ever done.