Chapter 1 - The First Snip of Tyranny
The fluorescent lights of Room 204 buzzed like an angry wasp. Clara sat paralyzed in her wooden desk, her long brown hair gathered in a violent clump by the cold, calloused fingers of Mrs. Gable. The silver blades of the heavy-duty shears gleamed maliciously under the harsh light. Clara’s breath hitched, her throat tightening as she stared at the linoleum floor.
"Please, I'm sorry, I'll do my homework next time," Clara choked out, hot tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, her small shoulders trembling under her light blue collared school uniform shirt.
Mrs. Gable did not blink. Her blonde hair, pulled back into an aggressively neat bun, remained entirely undisturbed. She applied pressure to the steel, her expression flat, devoid of any human empathy.
"This is how you'll remember," Mrs. Gable replied coldly, the metallic crunch of shearing locks echoing louder than Clara’s terrified gasps.
Across the room, Chloe’s phone vibrated against her plastic desk. A bright screen lit up the dull grey atmosphere, flashing an incoming video call from "Dad." Chloe glanced sideways at the screen, her eyes widening in horror as she watched Clara’s hair scatter across the chair rack like dead leaves.
Outside, parked by the cracked sidewalk, Arthur stared down at his phone screen mounted on the dashboard. The live video feed showed his daughter’s devastation. His blood ran cold. His jaw tightened into a rigid line of pure terror and absolute rage. He shifted his sedan into drive without hesitation.
Inside the classroom, Mrs. Gable dropped the severed brown tresses onto Clara’s desk like a trophy of compliance.
"Pick that up and throw it in the trash," Mrs. Gable commanded, turning her back. "Disorder will not be tolerated at St. Jude Academy."
Clara reached out with a shaking hand, her fingers brushing against the soft, discarded strands of her own identity. She stood up slowly, her knees weak, feeling the stares of her terrified classmates burning into her skin.
May you like
Just as Clara reached for the trash bin near the doorway, the heavy oak front door of the classroom slammed wide open, splintering slightly against the drywall. Arthur stood in the frame, his chest heaving, his eyes locked dead on Mrs. Gable.
---
