The classroom sat empty, the last echoes of the bell long gone. Only the wall clock kept ticking, indifferent.At the front, Ms. Harper remained perched on the edge of her desk, legs elegantly crossed. A glossy black patent wedge dangled from the toes of her right foot, swaying like a slow pendulum above the two-inch boy cowering on the tile.She watched him with the same calm, amused smile she used when a student gave the wrong answer in front of the whole class."Look at you," she murmured, voice velvet-soft. "All that teenage bravado gone. Now you're just a little speck praying to the goddess in patent leather."She tilted her foot, letting the overhead fluorescents flash across the thick platform sole, blinding him for a moment."When you were hacking my gradebook, did you ever imagine this part? Did you picture yourself staring up the exact sole that's about to erase you?"Slowly, teasingly, she lowered the wedge until its front edge brushed his chest. She left it there (barely any weight at all), just enough for him to feel the warmth of the leather and the promise of what was coming."Shhh. Feel that? That's just my shoe saying hello. The real hello comes later."
She began rocking her ankle in tiny, lazy circles, letting the ridges graze his skin, tracing patterns of terror across his body."I could keep you alive under here for hours," she whispered, almost tenderly. "Just the ball of my foot on your ribs, letting you steal one tiny breath every time I shift. I could finish grading papers, maybe even repaint my toenails while you suffocate slowly underneath me."A soft, girlish giggle escaped her lips (sweet and horrifying)."But I'm feeling impatient today."She lifted the wedge a few inches, granting him a heartbeat of false hope, then let it drop so the edge landed across his hips. Not crushing. Pinning."Beg me to finish it."His squeak was barely audible. She cupped a hand to her ear, mock-confused."Louder, baby. Beg your teacher like you mean it."Tears streaked his miniature face. He screamed the words until his voice cracked.
Ms. Harper's smile widened, warm and maternal and utterly demonic."Good boy."She rose in one fluid motion, planting both towering wedges on either side of him like black marble columns. Then she raised her right foot high (so high the classroom lights haloed the sole) and held it there, letting him memorize every merciless groove."Watch carefully," she cooed. "This is the last pop quiz you'll ever take."She brought it down in exquisite slow motion.First his legs vanished beneath the front lip.
She paused.
Twisted.
Savored the wet crackle of bone.Then his torso.
Another pause.
Another twist.
His ribs collapsed like cheap plastic while she hummed a cheerful little tune.Finally his screaming face slid under the arch.
She leaned forward, transferring every ounce of her weight, and held… held… held… until the only sound was the soft, wet squelch of a life turning to paste.She ground once, twice, three times, polishing the floor with what remained of him, then lifted the wedge to admire her work: the perfect red imprint of his flattened body pressed into the patent leather like a pressed flower.Ms. Harper pursed her lips and blew the stain a delicate kiss."Extra credit for staying quiet at the end, darling."With a practiced flick, she scraped the residue off on the edge of the trash can, sat back down, crossed her legs, and let the now-spotless wedge dangle once more."Next student who wants an A," she murmured to the empty room, "had better bring knee pads… or a prayer."