Betty
I was strapped to a chair in my old classroom at Crestwood College. Room 203. Michael’s first classroom, where I had taught him four years prior. Where it all began, where a student with sea-green eyes and an unwavering grin had tested me in ways I would never have thought possible.
Now he had brought me here for the ending.
“Poetic justice,” Dominic had said, when he’d lad me into this room and bound me. "Your relationship with a student of mine, it started in this office. It ends in this room. Everything comes full circle."
He had spent hours setting up. Placing cameras to record everything. Planting incendiary devices in the building, as he described it. There were little containers of accelerant on the floor.
"I'll let you keep breathing for a while, then I'll leave your bod
