The Session with Miranda

The cold, sterile corridor of White Hollow echoed with the sharp click of Miranda Wong’s heels as she strode forward with purpose. Bree Jones followed closely behind, clutching her clipboard, her hands trembling slightly. The tension hung in the air, thick with unspoken questions.

“I don’t understand,” Bree whispered, her voice wavering. “Why am I here?”

Miranda didn’t glance back. Her tone was firm, cold. “You’ll see.”

As they approached the therapy room, Bree faltered at the sight before her. Garrett Silver leaned casually against the wall, exuding a quiet, calculated confidence. Desmond Reed, one of the more aggressive guards, loomed over him, his posture dripping with hostility.

“You think you’re special, don’t you?” Desmond sneered, stepping closer. “I’ve seen guys like you before—quiet, calculating, thinking you’re better than everyone else. But you know what? You’re just another punk in here, same as the rest of them. The only difference is, you’ve got people fooled. But not me.”

“Walking around here like you own the place, like you’ve already won. Guys like you never had to fight for scraps. I’ve watched authority figures hand everything to people like you—while people like me worked twice as hard for half the recognition. And now, even here, you think you’re in charge?” Guys like you never had to fight for anything real. But in here? It’s different. Authority doesn’t mean shit unless you can hold it.”

Garrett’s expression remained calm, impassive, but there was a flicker of danger in his eyes.

“Look at you,” Desmond continued, lowering his voice. “All these girls fussing over you. Makes me sick. You’re just another white boy who doesn’t know his place.”

“Desmond,” Miranda’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and authoritative. Her cold gaze locked onto the guard. “That’s enough.”

Desmond sneered, taking a step back. “I’m just having a little chat.”

“You’ve had your chat,” Miranda said firmly. “Now leave.”

Desmond lingered for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Finally, he turned and walked away, muttering under his breath. Bree watched him retreat, her grip on her clipboard tightening.

“Inside,” Miranda ordered softly.

Garrett followed her into the therapy room, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He took a seat in Miranda’s chair, his smirk widening as he leaned back comfortably. Bree hesitated at the door, unsure where to stand.

“Garrett… you shouldn’t sit there,” Bree whispered. “That’s Dr. Wong’s chair.”

Garrett chuckled, the sound dark and amused. “And why not?”

Before Bree could respond, Miranda stepped forward, her gaze lingering on Bree with a knowing glint. Her voice lowered, calm and commanding.

“Bree.” Miranda’s voice softened, her eyes narrowing as she studied the girl’s hesitant posture. Bree glanced between Garrett and Miranda, confusion flickering across her face.

“Slut-Maid.”

Bree’s posture shifted instantly. Her shoulders relaxed, her expression went blank, and her hands fell limply to her sides.

“I stand ready to serve, Mistress. What is your command?” Bree’s voice was soft, monotone.

Garrett’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Well, that’s better.”

Miranda tapped her tablet, her voice steady and clinical. “She’ll remain like this until the protocol is deactivated. Completely compliant. No emotion. Just obedience.”

Garrett leaned forward slightly, his gaze dark and curious. “Come here.”

Bree dropped to her knees and crawled toward him without hesitation. Her motions were slow, deliberate, precise.

Garrett unzipped his pants, his voice calm and commanding. Bree’s hands trembled slightly at her sides as her gaze flickered between him and Miranda. For a brief moment, she hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her expression. Her lips parted as if to speak, but the weight of Miranda’s presence and Garrett’s silent expectation pressed down on her. The tension thickened in the room, a quiet anticipation hanging in the air. Bree hesitated for a brief moment, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. Her gaze flickered to Miranda for reassurance before lowering her eyes submissively. The tension in the room thickened, a quiet anticipation hanging in the air.

“On your knees,” Garrett commanded, his voice low and authoritative. “Show me your devotion.”

Bree obeyed, her lips parting as she took him in. Garrett let out a satisfied sigh, his hand resting lightly on the back of her head.

The tension in the room reached its peak as Garrett’s body tensed. He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on Bree’s head as he came. Bree didn’t flinch, didn’t react. She remained still, her task fulfilled without question.

“Stop,” Garrett commanded softly.

Bree pulled back, her lips glistening. Her blank, vacant stare remained fixed on the floor.

Garrett leaned back, sighing contentedly. “Good girl.”

Miranda stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Bree. “She’s completely yours.”

Garrett nodded, running his fingers through Bree’s hair. “Completely.”

Miranda’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Now,” she said softly, her tone conspiratorial, “tell me, Garrett. Why are you really here?”

Garrett leaned back, his smirk fading into a thoughtful expression. “You’ve read my file. But you don’t know the whole story.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Then tell me.”

Garrett’s gaze darkened as he spoke, his voice low and measured. “In school, I was the best at everything—top grades, best athlete, a leader. But none of it mattered. Scholarships went to kids who ticked the right boxes. Opportunities were handed to those who ‘needed’ them more.”

Miranda nodded slowly. “And they labeled you.”

“They called me aggressive. Dangerous.” Garrett’s voice was bitter, laced with venom. “But I only ever defended myself. The real bullies? They were untouchable. Especially when they started playing the victim.”

Miranda’s gaze softened with admiration, though deep down, a battle raged within her. “And now?”

“Now,” Garrett said, leaning forward, his smirk returning, “I’ll make them pay.”

Miranda’s lips trembled as she stepped even closer to Garrett. Her voice took on a bitter edge, filled with years of suppressed resentment.

“Women of color… I used to think they were victims. I used to believe their struggles were real. But now I see it—they’ve taken everything. They’ve twisted the system to suit them, and the rest of us are left to clean up their mess.”

Garrett leaned back, intrigued. “And you hate them for it.”

Miranda nodded, her hands clenching into fists. “I hate what I’ve become. I hate that I ever believed their lies. But now, I see the truth. And you… you’ll show them who really holds the power.”

Garrett’s gaze darkened with approval. “Good.”

Miranda’s breath quickened as she knelt before him, her eyes gleaming with fervent devotion. “They need to see it. They need to feel it. You’ll break them. You’ll tear down everything they’ve built.”

Garrett ran his fingers along her jaw, his touch both possessive and commanding. “After this…”

Miranda’s lips parted in anticipation.

“…we plan their fall.”

Garrett leaned back, a look of satisfaction on his face. His smirk widened as he gazed at Miranda, who knelt before him with fervent devotion.

“The system will crumble,” Garrett murmured, his gaze distant yet sharp. “Starting here, with every rule they enforce, every lie they’ve sold. It’s already rotting from the inside—they just don’t know it yet. But they will.” “And we’ll be the ones holding the pen.”

Miranda’s eyes gleamed with intensity. “They’ll never see it coming.”

Garrett’s gaze darkened. “Good.”

Before we plan our next steps… Bree?”

“Yes, Master,” Bree whispered, her voice monotone, unwavering.

Garrett’s smirk widened. “Lick me clean.”

“Yes, Master.” Bree’s blank eyes met his as she obeyed, the future of White Hollow already reshaping in their minds.