My name is Amber, and I am far from your average teacher. My beauty is my weapon, my stilettos, my ally. The children see me as a role model, unaware of the darkness that hides behind my charming smile and impeccable makeup.
Every day at school is a game for me, a stage where I enjoy demonstrating my dominance. My long silky hair slides over my shoulders as I wander between the desks, scrutinizing the innocent faces of my students. They admire me, and it gives me a feeling of absolute power.
But my secret pleasure is crushing bugs. Yes, bugs. Those little colorful creatures that children love so much. When the classroom is empty, I take out my box hidden under my desk, filled with these little creatures. And then, the show begins. I select one, carefully place it on the floor and, slowly, crush it under my stiletto heel. The crack, the whine of the insect breaking under pressure, is a symphony to my ears.
This bizarre obsession is a reflection of my ambiguous personality.
Every step I take in the school hallways echoes with a sharp click. My signature stilettos are my weapon of choice. I, Amber, love these moments. The children, lined up along the walls, watch me pass. They admire me, they fear me. My beauty, impeccable, hides a darker passion.
My most perverse pleasure? Crushing insects under my heels. I love hearing that crack, seeing the shards of the skeleton scatter on the floor. It is a metaphor for what I could do to those who displease me. But that is not all. My passion for beauty - perfect makeup, long silky hair - is only a facade.
In my class, I reign as a sadistic queen. My students, little supporting characters in my theater of horror, fear me as much as they respect me. I manipulate them, playing with their fears, their hopes, pushing them ever further to their limits. My dominant character and my sadistic tendencies are my essence.
But today, something even darker awaits me. I have prepared a special lesson, a terrifying game where my heels will be more than just instruments of aesthetic terror. Today, I will show them what real fear is, palpable anguish, as I wander among them, a cruel smile on my lips.
The atmosphere in the classroom is tense, the air heavy with anticipation. The children watch me, their eyes wide with fear, as I slowly approach, my heels clicking on the floor like the beating of an aching heart.
I lean toward the front row, my icy gaze sweeping the class. “Today,” I whisper, my voice smooth and menacing at once, “you will learn what it truly means to be afraid…”
And as I raise my foot, ready to crush the first insect, I feel their terror rising. I smile. This is the beginning of my most terrifying lesson yet.