Coleston. Mrs. Coleston—a joyless, soul-crushing, frigid woman who could suck the life out of a room merely by stomping past it in her orthopedic nu...se’s shoes. Each day, her hair was pulled back in a bun so tight that it probably acted as a facelift. She dressed in boring, solid-colored outfits that looked like they were stolen from the wardrobe of a Victorian-era nanny. The students hated her. The other teachers avoided her. Amongst the hard-ass teachers in the school, Mrs. Coleston had the. It may have passed my mind at that moment if she didn’t find that idea appealing as gaining entrance into the room was easier than expected. With the crowbar still in hand, I was quick to grasp both the door and her mouth in one fell motion. Easily gaining the upper hand in such a physical contest, I forced myself inside and re-fastened the door. Leaning in close to her ear, I whispered, “Don’t scream, and the rest of what is about to transpire will be easier and perhaps more delightful for. More

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