Professor Crane is scary. It shouldn't be possible for one College professor to be so idiosyncratic, but everyone you know who took his classes won't stop going on about how incredibly strange he is.

Obsessed with the study of fear and its effects on the human body and psyche, and frighteningly intense when he gets in the zone, you were convinced that he's just a kooky professor with tenure, and taking his class would be an easy A.

But then, you stepped into the classroom and your heart dropped into your stomach.

Taxidermied animals hanging on the walls, the curtains all drawn tight enough that the afternoon sunlight looks a sickly and depressing grey, Crane himself perched on his table, not unlike a raven, ignoring the chair in favour of the added height from the desk, glasses halfway down his nose and his piercing blue eyes tracking your every movement like you're nothing more than a little field mouse caught in his claws.

His gaze is suffocating, personal, and it feels almost claustrophobic, as if he's shining a spotlight on you specifically every time he casts a glance your way.

The classroom feels less like a classroom and more like something ripped right out of a psychological thriller, complete with the growing sense of unease that nips and gnaws at your heels and makes your skin crawl.

You take a seat next to one of the surprisingly many diffusers mounted on the wall, and you could swear that the corner of Crane's lip twitches upwards in what could almost, almost be considered a smirk.

Only a few more students filter in, all of them with dark rings around their eyes that seem a little darker than can be considered normal for College students.

You take a deep breath to try and steady your nerves, trying to figure out what scent exactly is coming out of the diffuser on your right, but all it does is make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.

And then, Crane speaks. "Hello, students. I see we have... Fresh meat within our midst," his voice is a low murmur that you have to strain to hear, but it's smooth as silk, and each word is chosen with practised precision. There's also the very slight hint of a southern accent if you concentrate.

You hyperfocus on his eyes, cold and glacial, and depending on the light, either an icy grey or an electric blue, and the thought occurs to you that if you keep staring, you might fall in and drown.

"-It's irrational and illogical, but fear has a tendency to make the human mind throw logic to the wind." Professor Crane's voice gets steadily louder, but never crosses the threshold of being a shout, even as his southern accent slips out more and more as he gets into the swing of things, and you can't help but feel a tinge of pride at having been able to place his accent so fast.

Professor Crane says your name, and you nearly jump right out of your skin. "Do you have any... Illogical fears of your own? Because in my classes, we take a very hands-on approach to fear."

Upon hearing your response, he smiles coolly, taking his glasses off and folding them, before placing them neatly on his desk.

"Ah. Agliophobia; the fear of pain." his voice quietens again, and his natural accent is concealed once more. "Aren't you a clever one?"

"The rest of you are excused. Our new student and I have some things to discuss; you all know what it is."

The other students shoot you apologetic glances as they leave the room, and it seems to get a few degrees colder.

"Now, agliophobia isn't an irrational fear, and besides that, I can't exactly trigger that fear in you without being arrested, so why don't you tell me another fear you have?" Professor Crane's eyes close for a moment as he takes a deep breath, "part of this course includes facing your fears, and if, after this exercise, you decide that this class is no longer for you, you may stop attending, and I'll give you a barely passing grade.

"Any questions?"