In Juliet Farrell’s fourteen-year-old mind, whoever invented
math should be strapped to a chair and beaten with hammers. Trying to wrap her
head around complicated algebra caused her to rip up her homework assignments
and stab her textbook with a sharpened pencil. If not for the after school
tutoring of her teacher Trent O’Neil, her head would have exploded like a
suicide vest. Every day for thirty minutes, she would sit in his empty
classroom and work frantically on homework assignments. Meanwhile, Mr. O’Neil
would stand over her with a shit-eating grin on his face and promises of his
undying support.
“Don’t forget what FOIL stands for: First, Outside, Inside,
Last. You have to remember that when multiplying two polynomials together,”
said Mr. O’Neil in his best jovial voice. Juliet had a smile on her face as
well when her teacher’s advice was actually working. “Excellent work, Juliet!
You’ve come a long way in such a short period of time. I like that! If you’ll
excuse me for a moment, I have to use the men’s room. I’ll be right back to
grade your assignment.”
It had been only a few short minutes since Mr. O’Neil left
the room and Juliet was already confident enough to finish her assignment in
record time. Another smile formed across her dimpled cheeks and she gave a
silent, “Yes!” She hugged the piece of paper to her chest like it was a child’s
baby doll. She then danced happily over to her teacher’s desk to lay down the
assignment.
It was here that the brunette haired teen took a closer look
at Trent ’s desk
and noticed something unusual. His drawers were usually locked, but one of them
was slightly ajar. With furrowed brows of confusion, she opened one of the
drawers just out of random curiosity. She had seen him confiscate contraband
from other students before and lock them up in these drawers. Maybe there was a
CD player in there. Maybe there was chewing gum. Or pot. Or a knife.
After shuffling around inside the drawer, Juliet’s eyes
widened in horror and her cheeks were quivering. As she flipped through naked
photos of herself one by one, her blood had chilled and cold sweat poured off
of her face in streams. She even held her hand to her mouth and cried silently
at the perverted nature of these nude photos of her. Obviously they were
Photoshopped, but the sexual acts she was performing in these photos…they
brought up bile in the back of her throat.
“What are you doing with those?” asked a falsely apologetic
Trent O’Neil, who was standing in the doorway with a horrified look on his
face.
“What am I doing with these?” sobbed Juliet. She repeated
that sentence in a scream this time followed by, “You have naked pictures of me
in your drawer! What is wrong with you! Is that the only reason why you wanted
to tutor me?! Oh my god, I feel sick!” The traumatized teen dropped to her
knees and dry heaved on the floor. Her face had turned bright red and mucous
was forming around her nostrils as she sobbed some more.
“Juliet…you need to listen to me. I can explain why those
photos are there. They’re not mine, I swear,” said Trent with his arms held out in a mediocre
attempt to calm his student down.
“Bullshit!” shouted Juliet while rising to her feet. “That
is such bullshit! You’re a pedophile! You’re a goddamn pedophile!” Her
sentences were punctuated by shoving Trent
backwards repeatedly. The teacher had successfully deceived the entire school
into thinking he was a decent person. But with one slap across Juliet’s face,
his true colors showed and they were blood red.
Juliet stomped on Trent ’s
feet repeatedly, causing him to do a painful dance, but he wouldn’t relinquish
his grasp on his student’s hair. In fact, he had enough strength to shove her
to the ground and lay on top of her. His powerful arms pinned her skinny wrists
to the ground while the teen screamed and pleaded to be released. “Let me go!
Please let me go!”
“You want to be released?! Huh?! You want to be released?!
Oh trust me, little girl, I’ll give you the best release you’ve ever had in
your entire life!” Trent ’s
breathing was heavy and labored, but also creepy to listen to. “Don’t believe
everything your sex ed teacher tells you. You’re not going to have green
splooge afterwards. But here’s the kicker, my darling: if you tell anybody
about this, those nude photos go online! One way or another, you’re going to be
known as a fourteen-year-old whore! Whether it’s mine or the internet’s is up
to you, little girl! What do you say?!”
Juliet sobbed the entire time Mr. O’Neil was yelling at her.
No matter the outcome of this confrontation, she was doomed forever. She
thought of all the people who would either know about her rape or see her
Photoshopped pictures online. All the name calling. All the physicality. All
the isolation. The thoughts numbed out her mind like a shot of Novocain to the
brain. Then again, as long as her life was going to be ruined…
“Eat shit and die, you pervert!” screamed Juliet Farrell
before she leaned her head over and bit down hard on Trent’s wrist, drawing so
much blood that it probably curdled while the teacher was screaming in
mind-blowing pain. He rolled off of her and allowed the blubbering student to
get up and run toward the desk where the stack of photos was being kept.
Juliet looked through those photos again with downward
eyebrows and clinched teeth before looking back at Trent O’Neil, who was
sitting on his ass screaming in agony and wrapping his orange tie around his
wrist wound. Juliet then picked up a stapler along with the photos and marched
over to her injured teacher with sick intentions on her mind.
“You want people to see me naked? Fine by me. But it’ll be
on my terms. And the blood will be on your hands!” threatened Juliet. One by one,
she stapled the naked pictures to Trent ’s
exposed skin and caused bigger gushers than the one on his wrist. The teacher
screamed and pleaded, but instead got more pictures stapled to his arms, legs,
chest, forehead, and lastly, his crotch.
The football players’ eyes widened in horror at the sight of
a bloodied pedophile with pictures of a naked teenager stapled to his body.
Trent O’Neil had become a human collage of disgust, disdain, and violence and
all he could do about it was crawl on his hands and knees with the football
team’s hearts skipping a few beats.
“Go ahead. Soak it all in,” said Juliet, who was standing in
a puddle of her math teacher’s blood. “Add those pictures to your personal
spank bank. Jack off to them as much as you want. But if you’re thinking of
keeping me like one of your slutty cheerleaders, just remember that you too
could be just as bloody and bruised as the man who did this to me. So…how about
it, boys? Do you have something you want to say to me? You want to whistle at
me? You want to blow me a kiss? You want to ask me to the homecoming dance? If
you’ve got something to say, say it to my motherfucking face!”
For extra emphasis on how brutal she can be when she’s
crossed, Juliet held up the bloodstained stapler she used to make artwork out
of her teacher. “You’re crazy! You’re fucking crazy!” yelled one of the
football players as all of them started to back away slowly in trembling fear.
“You’re right. I am crazy. Crazy like a fox,” said Juliet
with a sadistic smile on her face. She even licked the blood off of the stapler
to make the football team backpedal just a little bit faster (they were moving
too slowly for her tastes).
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