Miss Crimson’s Final Lesson



In the dead of night, Room 13 still holds class.
They call her Miss Crimson — the new literature teacher with hair like spilled blood and freckles that dance across porcelain skin. Students whisper she was once an angel... until she fell for the taste of sin.
Now her halo burns blood-red, her wings cast shadows darker than any failing grade, and that ruler in her hand keeps perfect time with the pounding of terrified hearts.
“Eyes front, darling,” she purrs, smiling with teeth just a little too sharp. 
“Today’s lesson is simple: Some sins… feel like salvation.”