Chapter 3
Clementine
Friday mornings were supposed to be easy. The kids would be extra excited before the weekend, and we'd usually plan some fun activities. But when I walked into the kindergarten, I wasn't greeted by children's laughter—instead, I was met with Mrs. Davidson's tense expression.
"Clementine, please come to the meeting room. We need to talk."
My heart instantly sank. The meeting room was already full—several parents, Sterling, and... Zephyr? He was wearing that perfect suit of his, looking as serious as a stranger.
'What the hell is going on?'
"Please sit down, Clementine." Mrs. Davidson's voice sounded like she was presiding over a court trial. "We've received some serious allegations."
Sterling cleared her throat, her eyes glinting with malice I'd never seen before. She slowly stood up, her voice beginning to tremble slightly—God, she was actually performing.
"I don't want to do this, but I have to speak up for the children." She wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. "Yesterday afternoon, I witnessed Clementine lose control and roughly shove a child. That poor little girl nearly fell and was scared to tears."
"What?" I nearly jumped out of my chair. "That's not true at all! I never—"
"Please let her finish." Mrs. Davidson cut me off.
Sterling continued her performance: "I was too shocked at the time to know what to say. But when I went home that night, the more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt. I can't let this continue."
The parent sitting next to her—Mrs. Henderson, I remembered her daughter Emma—nodded in agreement: "My daughter came home crying yesterday, saying the teacher was mean. She also said if she didn't behave, she'd be punished. My daughter has never lied."
'This can't be possible. Emma was clearly happy yesterday.'
I felt blood rushing to my head: "Mrs. Henderson, Emma told me yesterday afternoon that she liked my hair. She wasn't scared at all."
"Children sometimes hide their fears," Sterling said coldly. "Especially when they're afraid that telling the truth will bring more punishment."
The air in the meeting room was almost suffocating. Everyone's eyes were focused on me, like they were examining a criminal.
Mrs. Davidson turned to Zephyr: "Mr. Calloway, as an expert, what's your take on this situation?"
My heart stopped beating. Zephyr would speak up for me, right? He knew me, he knew I could never hurt any child.
Zephyr was silent for a moment, then spoke: "Multiple witnesses with consistent testimony is very difficult to refute. In this situation, the school must take preventive measures to protect the other children."
"Zephyr... you've known me for so many years. Do you think I would hurt children?"
He briefly made eye contact with me, then looked away: "Personal feelings cannot influence factual judgment."
"What the fuck are you saying?"
Everyone turned toward the source of the voice. Knox stood in the doorway, his face dark with anger. I hadn't even heard him come in.
"Sir, this is a private meeting—" Mrs. Davidson began.
"Private meeting?" Knox strode in. "You're here framing an innocent woman, and you call this a private meeting?"
Sterling pretended to shrink back in fear: "You have no right to be here—"
"I have every right!" Knox's voice shook the windows. "Because I know Clementine, I know what kind of person she is. Every night when she comes home, she tells me what new things the kids learned that day. She gets happy for half the day when a child makes small progress. You don't know her at all! She loves these children more than anyone in this room!"
Zephyr stood up, his tone filled with contempt: "What does a tattoo artist know? What's needed here is rational analysis, not emotional defense."
Knox turned to Zephyr, the tension between the two men thick enough to ignite: "I know what conscience means! Obviously these things are beyond the understanding of you suited bastard."
"Enough!" I suddenly stood up, tears already streaming down uncontrollably. "Enough!"
I pushed back my chair and rushed out of the meeting room. The air in the hallway felt fresher, but my lungs still felt like they were stuffed with glass shards.
I mechanically walked to my classroom and started packing my things. I knew that regardless of the final investigation results, I could never work here again. Sterling had successfully destroyed everything.
'Why? Why doesn't anyone believe me?'
I crouched on the floor, putting my personal belongings into a cardboard box. My fingers were shaking so badly I couldn't even hold a pen properly. This classroom held so many memories—the children's laughter, their excitement when they first learned to write their names, the sweet way they called out "Teacher Clementine."
Now it was all gone.
I stood up to reach for the photos on the shelf, but stepped backward and hit the game table behind me. Damn table corner was metal and particularly sharp. I felt a sharp pain in my head, then everything went black.
The last thing I heard was Knox shouting my name, then complete darkness.
When I regained consciousness, I felt someone gently stroking my hair. I opened my eyes to see the harsh white fluorescent lights on the hospital ceiling.
