It wasn't until I was locked into the middle of writing the third part of this story that I realized I never went into detail as to why I am doing this. So I just want to clear the air before I continue. I promise I will not take up too much of you time.
I'm a professional journalist, and got my doctorate from California University ("Cal-U") as we call it. But this is in California, PA, not the state. I was working freelance for about three years and made some decent money, but still had to keep a steady job on the side. I worked until I had enough in my savings, and decided I wanted to back to school to study Psychology.
It was during this time that I recalled the events with Selena, due to a lecture my professor gave the class on how some psychopaths don't know the difference between right and wrong. A lot of cases were due to the assailant's upbringing, and how they were conditioned to see things through a different, albeit, more morbid filter than most people.
It was over a year by that point that I didn't have a good story to write about, so I got myself back into the groove of my current profession. I don't need to get into the details of where that went, since you've all read that for yourselves. That's why I am doing this. I'm hoping this story will be my big breakthrough and help get my career going full throttle. That may come off as a bit selfish, but so far I feel I have not hurt anyone during the whole process of getting this story out there.
Okay. Enough of a history lesson. You're not to here for my story.
THE PUNISHMENT
Do you guys remember Mrs. Redfield? She really was a good teacher. Just the kind of person who is meant to work with kids. One of those rare kind who are almost never found in her profession. She was the last person anyone would suspect of doing what she did. I will admit that Selena was a horrible person; the kind that you wouldn't even know how to make suffer for what she's done because nothing may have seemed good enough for her.
It was two weeks into May, and my class were more excited than others because not only were we getting out of school soon, but we were seniors. Our time in that cesspool of youth was almost over. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits and this was the time of year when Mrs. Redfield would slack on protocol and let us do whatever we wanted during P.E., which did still happen that year, but something was off.
Mrs. Redfield, even though she tried to carry herself as the jovial person she always was, seemed drastically less enthusiastic than normal. It was hard to tell at first, but I noticed little tell-tell signs. Usually, she didn't mind talking to the students individually while everyone else did their thing, and would shoot the bullshit with anyone who would ever lend an ear. As long as it wasn't raining she would let us go out onto the football field (that's where we were that day) with a large supply of gym equipment, and let us go crazy. A rope for Tug-of-War, various sets for racket games, kickballs, softballs, soccer balls...you get what I mean.
While everyone was having fun I could just tell something was missing. Kind of like the feeling you get when the weather suddenly drops in temperature. You may not have been paying attention, but it catches you off guard. I just brushed this thought away, thinking it was just of all the excitement I was feeling. Since I was a loner, and none of my friends were in the class, I decided to find a game I could play by myself. All I could find were horseshoes, but that's too boring. Then I remembered we had this tennis court right next to the field, so I decided I would hit a ball against a wall for the whole class.
I gathered a racket and a couple of tennis balls, then made my way to the court when I saw Mrs. Redfield sitting half-way up the bleachers. That's when it hit me: the one thing that didn't feel right that day was that I didn't hear Mrs. Redfield talking animatedly with any of the students. Sure, it was something that I just unintentionally blotted out during class, much like refrigerator noise, but this is something I instinctively expected to hear so regularly.
Even though I never necessarily heard Mrs. Redfield, her voice still had a way of filling the air, whether you were aware of it or not. I looked up at her and she had her head in her hands, her body hitching up and down. I couldn't hear her, but it's not hard to tell when someone is crying. I felt bad and wondered what the problem could be, but knowing there was nothing I could do I tried to forget about it and went to the tennis court.
Other than Mrs. Redfield's odd behavior things continued with its monotonous pace at E.F., but with a little more spark in the air than usual, since graduation was right around the corner. I, on the other hand, was a little more bored than usual because the few friends I had were skipping days at school. I once confronted one of them about this, and all they did was lift their hands palms in the air and asked "What are they going to do? Suspend us?". Three days away from graduation, Mrs. Redfield had to cancel P.E. during the day, and rescheduled the class for after school.
This didn't make a whole lot of sense to any of us, but due to so many students skipping out, we were informed that up until graduation it was mandatory that all students showed up for all classes, or they would have to face Summer-school if they wanted to get their diplomas. My old school had a funny, if not sometimes unethical, way of doing things.
As predicted, little Ms. Perfect (Selena) didn't show up for gym class in the after-hours of school. However though her friends were there. I didn't give it much thought when I first saw them there because I'm so used to having class with them, but then I remembered the circumstances we were under and realized something was amiss. Selena's friends were obedient dogs who went everywhere with her, there is no way in this reality that Selena would stay at school any later than she felt she needed to. If she wanted to cut class, then that meant she automatically spoke for everyone else in her tight-knit circle.
I didn't necessarily care, but still thought it was out of character for them to be without their ring leader. Since I had no friends to talk to I just stood idly at the bleachers waiting for class to start. Mrs. Redfield was late, and by that time I realized I had to take a piss, so I headed off to the boy's locker room. When I got there I saw that grocery bags were taped over every single one of the urinals. I'm sure any guy reading this knows that's what maintenance does when a toilet is out of order. This was suspicious, considering they weren't covered about half an hour ago.
This would have been a nice prank by the graduates, but whoever did it was late to the party. But my bladder was beginning to have trouble holding the flood gates, so I went to one of the toilets in the stalls. There were five stalls, and I tried opening the first one, but no luck. More childish pranks, I figured, so I tried the next one, and that wouldn't open either. As I was beginning to become aggrevated tried the stall in the middle and it swung open. The toilet seat itself was missing and was replaced by a bucket that was hanging over the bowl.
Someone was really going out of their way for a dumb joke, and the smell of the waste that already filled over a quarter of the bucket was horrible, but I didn't care. I emptied my bladder in the bucket and dashed back to the gym. When I returned I went about keeping myself at the bleachers. There was still no sign of Mrs. Redfield, so I did one of my favorite past-times and just eavesdropped on any nearby conversations. I know it's a creepy thing to do, but isn't it more entertaing to hear people make fools of themselves instead initiating a conversation?
Minutes later, with the memory of the disabled toilets slipped from my mind, I heard one of the girls in my class talkig to her friend.
"What's going on with the bathrooms?"
My attention peaked as if a bee stung me in the ass, and listenend intently. I don't want to go through the trouble of recounting the whole conversation, because I think it's obvious what the issue was. Sure, there are no urinals in the girl's room, but they also had one solitary toilet available to them; bucket and all.
At this point Mrs. Redfield was running up to fifty minutes late for class. Then something white came rolling fast into the gymnasium. A white sheet hung over a figure sitting in one of those spinny-chairs with wheels. Then came in Mrs. Redfield. I wish I could say I was happy to see her back in her usual charming mood, which she was, but her eyes had this glazed look to them. The best way I can describe it is that the lights in the room shined a little too bright off of her eyes. That kind of look people get when they are in another dimension away from reality.
Withoutout a word, Mrs. Redfield retreats back out of the gym, into the hall, and drags in behind her a crate full of various sporting equipment. She then stops and looks around at the class with the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, but this was far from the look of someone who was "happy". She then reaches into the crate and tosses a kickball to Billy, a slender kid with short blonde hair. Although, I don't have anything bad to say about Billy, he was one of those kids who you knew came from a preppy family when you gave him just one look. He wasn't bad, but he definitely had a will that was made out of Silly Putty.
Billy almost didn't catch the ball since he was so enamored, as well as everyone else, with the covered figure sitting in the middle of the gym, but did catch it more out of reflex than awareness. Mrs. Redfield folded her hands in front of her and bounced up and down on her tippy-toes.
"This is it everyone! The last time we'll all be together. I thought it would be fun if we did a little bit of everything today. How does dodge-ball sound for starters?"
The figure in the chair sprung awake (assuming it was unconscious when it arrived), and began jirating in place, but couldn't escape. Then the muffled scream of a girl came from underneath the sheets. Mrs. Redfield approached this figure and placed a hand on the sheet.
"Come on guys! Let's make this a day to remember!" Mrs. Redfield pulled the sheet off of the figure.
There she sat, layers of duct tape on her mouth, her body bound to the chair with ropes, her hands tied in front of her, and her face streaked with mascara due to so much crying. I'll never forget how blue and clear her eyes looked. They were glowing with pure fright, and looked like crystals. I know she was evil, but Selena was beautiful.
One of Selena's friends ran to her aid, but before she could get close Mrs. Redfield reached behind her, pulled out a gun and aimed it at the girl's head. The girl froze in place like she hit a brick wall, petrified. Her chin shook wildly like something was trying to escape from her mouth.
"What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?"
Mrs. Redfield didn't respond and dragged Selena to the far other end of the gym against the matted wall. When she turned around she saw that Billy was till holding the kickball and came back to him, then placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and guided him to the center of the gym floor.
"Come on, Billy. You start the game."
I actually felt a bit bad for Billy; he looked so lost and confused. Mrs. Redfield clicked the hammer on her pistol and Billy threw the ball without thinking. The ball landed dead-on Selena's nose, drawing out from her another muffled scream. Selena panicked and thrashed around in her restraints so hard that she brought herself to the floor, landing sideways.
Mrs. Redfield came up to Selena, kneeled down, and retrieved a pocket knife from the hoodie she was wearing. As she opened the knife Selena screamed from behind the tape on her mouth so hard, I wouldn't have been surprised if larynx burst. The scream was so full of fear and panic that she sounded as inhuman was she was.
Mrs. Redfield then placed a hand on Selena's forehead and rubbed it gently while shushing her. She then carefully put the tip of the blade in the center of the duct tape and cut a hole horizontally across Selena's mouth. Selena didn't waste any time screaming all kinds of obscenities at Mrs. Redfield, and with all of that tape on her mouth, she looked like some deranged puppet.
Mrs. Redfield took the butt of her pistole and cracked it down on the bridge of Selena's nose. I remember it sounding like a pencil snapping in half. Selena stopped screaming, but whimpered as Mrs. Redfield lifted her back up and placed her back against the wall. She then went to the crate of sporting equipment and brought out a tennis racket. Mrs. Redfield studied the tennis racket, while tapping the muzzle of the pistole against her chin, deep into contemplation. She then turned to face the class.
"I'll be right back. Everybody, stay where you are. And don't even think about trying to escape, because it'll do you no good. I can hear the doors open, and believe me I will, and when I do not all of you will make it out."
Mrs. Redfield left the gym, and everyone was basically traumatized at this point. All of Selena's friends who were there didn't waist any time trying to help her out of her restraints, but found the knots on the ropes were too complicated, and none of them had a sharp object at hand. Mrs. Redfield came back, pulling a tennis ball shooter behind her, and the girls dashed back to the other side of they gym as fast as they could. Mrs. Redfield had no response to this and set the tennis ball shooter in front of Selena, approx. 8 feet away from her.
She then plugged it into an outlet behind the nearest bleachers and powered it on. Each ball hit Selena dead in the face, further causing more damaged to her broken and bleeding nose. Mrs. Redfield stood against a wall, pulled out a cigarette from behind one of ears, and lit it up. She took her sweet time smoking it too, then when she finished she turned off the machine and snuffed out the cigarette butt on Selena's cheek. Her face was so coated with tears and sweat that I could hear the hot ash sizzle against her skin.
When Mrs. Redfield stood upright the lights in the gym reflected off of something metal hanging off of the back of her pants. They were handcuffs. Mrs. Redfield proceeded to take out her pocket knife and freed Selena from her restraints, but left her hands bound. Selena, too dazed and weak to fight, let Mrs. Redfield drag her the wooden climbing frames that were behind where Selena was sitting off to the left side of the matted wall.
Mrs. Redfield knocked Selena down to the floor, fastened one of the cuffs around the ropes on her wrists, and shackled her to one of the lower bars on the frame. After this task was done Mrs. Redfield reached down and pulled off Selena's pants, exposing her bare rectum. Mrs. Redfield looked at Selena studiously, tilting her head like a curious dog.
"No underwear? Not a surprise."
"This is so fucked", one of the boys said. I think his name was Brandon.
Mrs. Redfield turned on her heal and looked Brandon right in the eye.
"I'm sorry? Is there a problem?"
"Why are you doing this?", Brandon asked.
"Don't be a hero. Not for those who are beyond saving."
Mrs. Redfield went back to the sporting goods crate and retrieved a plastic peg along with some horseshoes. She then went back to Selena and wedged the peg deep into Selena's anus. Selena let out an ear-piercing cry and paddled her legs up and down in the air like a child throwing a tantrum.
"Let me go! I can't take it anymore! Somebody please help me!"
I know there are people who wanted to help her, but what would you do at that age when someone you're supposed to trust would point a gun at your head? Most of us may have been dumb kids, but we weren't suicidal. Mrs. Redfield turned around and looked at the class.
"Does anyone want to play horseshoes?"
Her tone of voice had changed. She sounded like what she has been doing had finally dawned on her, and her voice became very timid and uncertain. Nobody answered and Mrs. Redfield looked back at Selena who was crying uncontrollably.
"You did this to yourself, you know?"
Selena looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Redfield with those wide crystal-blue eyes.
"Why are you doing this? I didn't do anything wrong!"
Mrs. Redfield looked like someone slapped her in the face. She then burst out into an hysterical laughter which rapidly turned into a crying fit. She left the gym again, laughing all the way down the hall to the locker-rooms. A moment later she returned with a large bucket in her hands. The stench immediatley filled the room, and it was the unmistakable smell of raw sewage. Mrs. Redfield stood over top of Selena emptied the bodily waste she collected from the buckets in the boy's and gir's bathroom on top of Selena's head.
Mrs. Redfield dropped the bucket, and with a blank expression, dropped down on her knees and brought her pistole back out from the waistband of her pants. Selena continued to glare at Mrs. Redfield with those blue eyes of hers.
"My father's going to kill you!"
Mrs. Redfield laughed again.
"You fucking brat. You always get your way, don't you? Stupid girl, you've already lost! You're father's going to kill me? That is one satisfaction I will not let you have."
Mrs. Redfield brought the pistole to her head and pulled the trigger.
AFTERMATH
I want to make it clear that Mrs. Redfield was a good woman, and was probably the best teacher that Elizabeth Forward had ever seen. She was unquestionably the last person anyone would have expected of causing harm to anyone. It wasn't until they interviewed her family on the news that I found out what made her snap.
Before Mrs. Redfield got into teaching, she was a secretary worker at a steel mill factory a few towns from where I live. She had an 8 year old daughter at the time and was a single mother. One day while she was at work, she got a call during her lunch break that a book shelf in the library of her daughter's school fell on her, causing head trauma and putting her into a coma.
Her daughter was in a vegetative state and was put on life support for about two months. The doctors made it as clear as they could to Mrs. Redfield that if her daughter did wake up, she would have already suffered severe brain damage and may not live longer than a couple of years. But Mrs. Redfield, like any good parent, didn't give up on hope.
Finally, her daughter did wake up, but at the same time she wasn't there. The doctors and Mrs. Redfield worked with her as much as they could until they decided she was healthy enough to go home, but not without assisted living. One night, about a month after Mrs. Redfield had her daughter home, she could see her daughter's condition was worsening. She took it upon herself to put her daughter out of her misery and put a pillow over her face. I don't know how Mrs. Redfield got away with it, but at the same time I don't blame her for what she did.
It wasn't long after that event that Mrs. Redfield contemplated suicide and almost carried it out one night until she heard something outside of her door. She opened the door and saw a kitten sitting there on the WELCOME mat, staring up at her. What struck Mrs. Redfield about this cat was that it had the same green eyes has her daughter had, and the cat was female. I know that means next to nothing, but Mrs. Redfield was a superstiously religious woman, so she got in her head that this kitten was the reincarnation of her daughter.
Mrs. Redfield took the cat in and raised it as her own. Things were fint for several years, but Mrs. Redfield lived in a rural area, the kind of place where there are more trees and less neighbors. She decided it was time to move to the nightborhood, because coyote sightings were becoming more prominent and she liked to let her cat for exercise on nice days. But where Mrs. Redfield moved to is where she really put her feine in danger.
I had no idea about this until after that day in the gym, but Mrs. Redfield moved into a house that was close to Selena's. They weren't exactly next-door neighbors, but Selena's house was close enough that you could see and hear almost everything that went on. Things such as a certain cat that was little too noisy, maybe?
Mrs. Redfield's cat was in heat during the last couple weeks of school, so she naturally got a bit too noisy. One night the air was just too still and it was very warm, and Selena was sleeping in her front lawn in a tent. The way I heard it was that the cat snuck outside and wouldn't shut up, so Selena took matters in her own hands, as she always did, and went into the house to get her father's shotgun.
Mrs. Redfield was awoken by the blast. She turned on the front light of her house, opened the door, and saw her cat laying on the front lawn with a scattered mess on the stump of her neck. She took this as her losing her daughter again and went over the edge.
On the day of our final gym class, Mrs. Redfield had it all planned out. She had the schedule for a late class set up in her favor, and after apprehending Selena and putting a rag of either over her mouth, she stole her phone and, pretending to be her, Mrs. Redfield texted her friends, and ordered them to go to the class after school.
That's the story, and that's what really happened. I've heard other variations, but these are just exaggerated legends made up by kids who weren't there and who don't believe in it. I don't know if this was the ending any of you wanted or if you think Selena got off easy, but that's what happened. But as for Selena? The last I heard, her father finally shit himself, and got a life-sentence in prison. The FBI really wanted a piece of that guy and they made a four-course meal out of him when the opportunity came.
Since Selena no longer had anyone to turn to, she eventually went into a psychotic breakdown and her family committed her to a psychiatric hospital in Canada. I'm guessing she went there just for the free health insurance, but Canada is good for that kind of thing from what I hear.
But that's it. End of story. I want to thank all of you for hanging in there with me, and for your patience. But I hope you learned something from this story: No matter who someone is, whether they are good or evil, have power or absolutely nothing, everyone breaks just as easy.
Submitted September 11, 2017 at 12:13AM by nightmaremasochist http://ift.tt/2xXDSfZ nosleep
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