The English Teacher

Ms. Pamela Layton looks up at you, a stern but not unkind look on her face.

"Mr. Ferro. And friends, it would seem... What can I do for you?" She closes her grading book and leans back slightly to focus more fully on your presence in her classroom.

Her's for now, you chuckle to yourself.

"Pardon me a moment, Ms. Layton", you reply calmly. You turn and pull out your marker and begin drawing on the wall, next to the door.

Mr. Ferro! What do you think you're doing?!? Put that marker down this instant!"

Kelly and the sheriff both take a step to block her but it doesn't matter anymore. You're done. You turn and motion for the other two to relax. They fall back behind you, leaving a stunned, and very confused, Ms. Layton staring at you.

You smile and step to the side, gesturing to the wall.

Ms. Layton glares at you another moment until her curiosity gets the better of her and she glances at the wall behind you.

Ryan Ferro’s private school.

Ms. Layton blinks. Looks again, like she's unsure what she just read. A moment later she turns and looks at you.

"I'm sorry, sir. I've been so busy with the grading... I forgot this us your private school. I really must be more tired than I realized. How can I help you, sir?"

"It's no problem Pamela," you say, using her first name - after all it's your school, so she's clearly your employee.

"I just came by to check on you. I know you've been through a lot. I've heard reports that you seem to be struggling under the weight of your current work-life balance. It must be very difficult for you. I really can't imagine."

Ms. Layton's face grows darker for a moment, her body tenses. You can see a figurative war playing out behind those beautiful, dark eyes. Her emotions run so deep you can feel the current from where you are. You can see the emotions fighting for control, just under the surface. How has this woman been holding it together so long, you wonder.

"Pamela," you call her name softly. No response. "Ms. Layton," a little stronger this time...

Something breaks beneath her thick veneer and she's herself again. Rigid. Tight. Controlled. "Sorry, sir. I think I've over-exerted myself a little. Maybe a snack would help my blood sugar..."

She steps forward, as if to move past you and exit the classroom.

You step in front of the doorway, immediatelyhalting her afvance and causing a scowl to sppear briefly begore she crams it back down deep, where her demons hide.

"Ms. Layton. I think we should talk more. You seem very stressed. I'm sure the work can be challenging. But I suspect it's more than that, isn’t it? Your service. Your husband. The accident. You can't move past any of it can you? You can't escape, can't bury it deeply enough. Can't rage loud enough or cry hard enough. Bitterness. Loneliness. Anger. Despair. Guilt. Trauma. You carry so many burdens, don't you, Pamela?"

Silence floods the room. Kelly and the sheriff have done their best to fade into the wallpaper. Ms. Layton has her head down, seemingly staring at the floor. Her hands are curled into fists and her knuckles are white. You can see the veins in her neck and arms as she cycles through each emotion you listed, and probably a lot more. Just how deep did this woman's prison of misery extend? Is this something you can deal with or did you finally open a can of something best left on the back shelf? You can tell Kelly and the sheriff are deeply concerned, and moved. The sheriff actually has her service revolver unclipped and is palming it nervously.

Ms. Layton finally looks up and you can see the tears streaming down her face. But they clearly aren't all tears of sorrow. Her fists are still there, and her body is shaking like a volcano before the quiet forest below goes bye-bye.

"How dare you..." she starts, her voice cracking dangerously. "How dare you think to speak of him... remind me of him..."

You realize that if you have a game to play here you better make the move now - or else run for the exits. You've triggered an event that can't be sweet-talked away. The woman is seriously losing her shit. This will not end well.