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"She needs to be punished," I tell Avery. "Let me do this for you."
"You'll get sent to the hole with me," she says. "I can't let you do that to yourself."
I blink at her. She's putting me first.
No one ever puts me first, not when they can get what they so desperately want instead.
I look at the cunt still coughing on the floor. She vomits, spewing black-speckled shit across the rug.
I yank her up and slam her back into the chair. She's still coughing as I take out my phone.
"You're going to admit to everything you've done to her," I say, pointing at Avery. "All of it, every last bit, and I'm going to record it. Then today, you're going to tender your resignation and leave. If you aren't gone by this evening, I will make sure that video gets blasted everywhere. It'll be so big you won't be able to buy silence this time. Do you fucking understand me?"
She coughs again and nods.
"W . . . what happens if James—Dr. Boucher, I mean—won't accept my resignation?" she asks.
I lean in close so I can make sure she gets a good look at me. "Then you will make sure he does. I don't care what you tell him as long as it isn't about Avery or me. Tell him you have a family emergency. Tell him Hell called, and they need their best gal back. I don't give a shit."
"B . . . but . . ." she begins.
I'm starting to lose my patience. If she keeps pushing me, I'm going to light her up.
"But what?" I snap.
"Boucher will want to see her." Her gaze slides to Avery. "She cost the Academy a lot of money and almost got the police involved too."
"Look," I tell her, "I don't give a fuck what you tell Boucher, but if she ends up in the hole, I'll blame you. Tell him her parents forbid it, that they threatened to sue for every dime they've already given you. I really don't care as long as it keeps her out of solitary. Is that clear enough for you?"
She nods.
"Good." I hit the record button. "Begin."
"I, um," she says.
"State your name," I command.
"I am Blair Delores Graves," she says, with a little cough while looking at the camera. She pauses.
"I've made some mistakes in my career as Headmistress of Chryseum Academy," she continues.
"Specify it!" I snarl.
"I've . . ." she looks toward Avery and swallows loudly. "I've forced students in our eating disorder rehabilitation program to eat and drink. I've called them names and held them down when they refused to cooperate. I'm not proud of it."
"Continue," I say.
She looks at the camera again, her stare locking into place.
"I've tied them up in my office and held them against their will while I forced them to swallow. I've also lied to parents about progress, and then had their child sent to our isolation unit to be force-fed when that child didn't make weigh-in. I, um, sincerely regret . . ."
"What did you do to her?" I point at Avery. "Tell them!"
"I zip tied a student to a chair in my office and poured soda down her throat while holding her head back, so it felt like she couldn't breathe. I've oinked at her and made disparaging remarks."
She swallows again, tears coming to her eyes.
"I cannot put into words how sorry . . ."
