Page 52 of Watch Me Burn

Anna tapped my arm with a trembling hand. Let her finish, she mouthed sympathetically while tears formed in her own eyes.

Lisa wiped her tears with her sleeve. “Looking back, it was a different time back then. It wasn’t that others didn’t notice. I think nobody wanted to be part of it or get involved. To be associated with a school like that can be shameful. He told me nobody would believe me and that people would call me the school tramp if I said anything. That I was the one who seduced him. They didn’t want to see him outside the lens of a good guy anyway. So, I never said anything, until our power imbalance began to escalate.”

Anna leaned in over the table, trembling. “Are . . . you saying that my dad . . .”

Water pooled at the corner of her eyelids. She gulped back tears, adjusting herself in her seat several times.

Lisa took in a deep breath and balled her fists. “Your dad . . . he forced me to do sexual things.”

I clenched my jaw. Felt nauseous.

What the actual fuck!

“You mean, he used the basketball coaching to . . .” Anna’s shaky voice broke off.

Lisa shook her head. “No, even way before then. In my junior year, I was roped into these after-school ‘check-ins’ where Mr. Hudson would slowly transform from my favorite teacher to the monster he was. Your dad himself actually never touched me. He prepped me for those terrible pedophiles he sold me to.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Anna was reddened and trembling. She must’ve been feeling a mix of emotions—rage, disgust, hurt, confusion. Even I didn’t know how to process this new side of her father. He was the one man who treated me like a true son, always graciously inviting me over for holiday gatherings and extra support when my grandma needed it.

While he exploited a girl who was too scared to speak up for herself.

“What . . .” Anna almost whispered, “do you mean by that? Selling you.”

Lisa looked down at her lap. “He was taping me for some perverts who are into this kind of shit. It was terrible. Horrific. But he practically cornered me into doing it and said he would ruin my life if I didn’t, and then show the films to the whole school.”

I heard Anna retch at my side.

Lisa nodded empathetically. “Who’d think the neighborhood hero would be the devil? He destroyed my life. They mostly filmed in the cabin. But for this one rich old guy, he actually flew me to Florida for—”

Her voice wavered and trailed off. She pressed her teeth against her lower lip, raising her eyes to meet ours, the turmoil in her gaze revealing an inner struggle she’d just overcome. “Fuck. If I didn’t meet this amazing husband of mine, I don’t think I would still be alive. All those years of drug addiction. He saved me. Don’t be fooled by what you see when you pull up in my driveway. I live a happy live with my small family here.”

Anna faintly mustered the courage to speak. “ . . . A cabin?”

My ears perked up in interest. Based on the information we gathered from Longlane’s former faculty, Anna’s father was staying behind in his classroom to “mentor” students—which we now knew meant abusing Lisa or and maybe other girls.

Lisa hesitated to respond. “He took me out to this abandoned shack in the woods. It helped keep things private—‘out of sight, out of mind’ kinda thing.”

“God, how could he do such a terrible thing,” Anna murmured out of disgust as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Were there any other girls?”

Lisa shrugged. “I never saw any, but I once found a used panty in the cabin, so I guess there were more than me.”

“And nobody ever said anything?” I wondered. I was pissed. Shit, for a moment I actually wished I killed that asshole.

Lisa shook her head. “When you’re trapped in an abusive dynamic like that, you start to believe the degrading things you’re being told. Being called a slut, worthless, that no one would take a word I say seriously. Every time I was taken advantage of by some man he brought to the cabin, the more my self-esteem plummeted to the floor. I didn’t think anyone could ever love me again, let alone trust someone as ‘dirty’ as me. I tried to tell my dad. I really did. In my eyes, he was this invincible force. I believed he’d have my back, that he’d confront John Hudson. Instead, he lashed out, refusing to believe that someone as reputable as Mr. Hudson could do such a thing. He even questioned if it was just some twisted cry for attention on my part.”

Silence blanketed the table.

What a fucked-up world we lived in . . .

Sometimes, you were just knocked down so hard by society that your only strategy for surviving was acting out the stereotypes given to you. Once you were branded a negative label in society, people would treat you a certain way no matter what you did. Likewise, the “angels” and “good guys” never got the brunt of being judged poorly before they even put in the work. People already perceived them in a specific way, and the social hierarchy was supposed to mold itself to that.

“The world,” I said, “isn’t fair to victims. A lot fewer people would be wronged in our society if we didn’t act on what we wanted to see as the truth and instead opened our minds to hearing everyone out. I’m sorry you didn’t get the opportunity to share your story with the world.”

Subtly, by apologizing to Lisa, I was forgiving myself. I needed to hear the words that were being echoed back from this woman’s ears—I still deserved a peaceful life after incarceration, and I didn’t need to bow down to accusers like Anna’s mom just because they projected their image of me on every little move I made.

“Thank you,” Lisa croaked. Sniffling, she accepted a tissue from Anna and blew her nose. “Now, what are you two going to do? Please don’t make my tragedy a national news story.”

“We won’t,” I promised.

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