She whispered the name, “Ann Winters,” broken and trembling. The principal nodded, calm but unyielding. “I never forgot.” Carol wanted to speak, to apologize, but the words tangled in her throat. How could regret undo years? The silence between them was filled with decades of unspoken cruelty.
Finally, Carol choked, “I was young. I didn’t know what I was doing.” The principal’s eyes hardened. “I was young, too. I knew what you were doing. And it carved me.” Her voice didn’t rise; it didn’t need to. The truth cut sharper than anger ever could.