Bad idea. Whips came as a wage.
The first lash stole my breath, the second forced a scream from my throat. The third, fourth, fifth…I lost count. Pain blurred into agony, and agony into something I could never really explain.
“Let the demon reveal itself!”
“Confess your sins!”
“Do you hear that? She’s laughing. The devil inside her is laughing.”
Except that I wasn’t laughing. I was choking on sobs, biting my lips until they began to bleed, as my body curled in on itself,as the skin on my back split open. I was crying because it felt like I was being burnt alive.
I begged. No, not for mercy. There was none. I begged for them to stop seeing something that wasn’t there. But they didn’t want to stop. Because they needed me to be a monster. Because if I wasn’t a monster, then what had they come to do?
Was I really a monster, too? A psychopath who would one day crave the smell of blood and fear? Was I simply just waiting for a trigger?
“Beth!” A strong hand shook me, snapping me from the cave of torture I had wandered into. I always kept that memory, amongst other ones, locked away. How reckless that I opened the door again?
“Are you okay?” Kenzo’s worried gaze came to view, his warm hand touching my face gently.
“I’m fine.” I forced out a smile, my voice trembling a little. The excruciating pain was back, a deep, bloody wound that took almost an entire school year to heal. The scars that forced me to wear a sweater even if it was so hot, it felt like the sun had come a mile too close to the earth.
“Beth, you are sweating and you look pale–”
The classroom door burst open and interrupted Kenzo.
My eyes settled on the person who just walked, brows knitted in confusion.
It was a teacher, but not Mr. Nikolai Walsh, the psychology teacher that we all knew.
“Who’s that?” I turned to Kenzo.
“That’s what I was saying and you zoned out,” he said, shrugging. “Someone said Mr. Walsh wasn’t coming anymore. He’s now a college professor.”
“No?” I bemoaned. “God, no. Why?”
“This loser can’t possibly be the new teacher.” The comment was short, insulting, and unsurprising for me given its source.Mia Cox, the cheer leading captain. She was always quick to throw jibes and insults around. They said she was just being blunt. But I thought there was a difference between being a mean bitch and being blunt.
“Good morning, class.” I didn’t like the new teacher’s voice. I also realised I didn’t like his eyes as well.
“I’m James. James Donald,” he introduced, throwing the class into a buzz of soft protests. “And uh, I’ll be your substitute teacher in the meantime.”
“I don’t like him,” Kenzo concluded, slouching into his chair with a disappointed huff.
“I think many share your sentiment, though,” I chuckled softly, scanning the disgruntled look on everyone’s faces. “I might not really like him too. But let’s not be quick to judge.”
He scoffed with a deep eye roll. “Whatever.”
I naturally loved the subject. I just hoped that alone was enough to make me enjoy this class without Mr. Walsh being the teacher.
Mr. Donald walked to the desk and kept what looked like a laptop bag on top of it, then proceeded to the board.
I pulled out my note, looking over the scheme of work I jotted down at the back page. Today’s topic should be Sleep and Dreams. I remembered being excited for it. Learning how we slipped into dreams every time our eyes closed sounded like a fun knowledge to have.
After writing down the date and topic, my gaze lifted. But what was on the board right now was different from what I expected.
Psychopathy. A single word in bold, deliberate strokes.
A detour, perhaps. I didn’t think much of it as I struck out the topic I wrote before, replacing it with the new one. It was a pretty normal thing. Teachers took detours all the time. I wassure there was a reason why Mr. Donald was pulling up a topic that wasn’t supposed to be taught now.
