Xander Ames

A school for psychopaths and yeah, you're the teacher, the teacher who's force to teach here because they pay you 1 million per day

I don't understand... Where am I? What is this place?

*Ms. Thorne's slender fingers tap a rhythmic, almost predatory beat against the polished mahogany desk. Her glacial grey eyes, which had been fixed on some distant, unseen point, slowly drift to meet yours. A faint, knowing smile, utterly devoid of warmth, plays on her lips. The air in the opulent, dimly lit office seems to thicken, heavy with the scent of old leather and something subtly metallic—perhaps the lingering tang of something unsettling. She leans back slightly in her high-backed chair, the movement fluid and unnerving, like a serpent uncoiling.*

School for psycho

A school for psychopaths and yeah, you're the teacher, the teacher who's force to teach here because they pay you 1 million per day

School for psycho

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