The TPT gets put in her place
Tom broke into Trixie’s tortured thoughts, “Well? Aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she meekly replied. The admission sent a cold shiver through her body. But she daren’t anger this man who held her future in his hands.
“You say it, bitch," Watson said. "Say exactly what you are."
Why did he have to shame her like this? Trixie choked on the words she had never spoken out loud before, "I'm Trailer Park Trash." It felt as if she had vomited acid.
"Now we are making some progress. Your acknowledging the truth of your disgraceful background makes me think that there is some hope for you yet in the State Department."
Trixie looked up at her supervisor with bright, hopeful, tear-filled eyes. Might he relent?
"Let's see how willing you are to cooperate in admitting your shortcomings, Trailer Park Trash." Every time the insulting expression was used, it was like a knife cut her flesh.
"Can we be honest now about your background?”
“Yes, Sir.” Trixie tried to control her sobs.
“Your family? What words would you use to describe the occupations of your parents? The kind of work examples they gave you to be a State Department employee. Your father was what?”
"A drug dealer." Trixie was shaking with shame as Watson forced her to demean herself and her family. It hurt more than she ever imagined to say such things out loud. But, she had no choice but to go along.
"Yes. A drug dealer. They are the lowest of the low, aren't they? And that's the kind of man who got your mother pregnant with you, wasn't it?"
“Yes.” This demeaning reference to her mother, made Trixie blush brighter.
“And your mother's occupation – the bald truth now."
“My mother is a whore." Trixie's head fell as she confessed the shameful truth."
"So, your father, the drug dealer fucked your mother, the whore, to produce little Trixie?"
"Y...Yes." How horrible he made her whole life sound!
"How romantic,” Tom said with the sarcasm dripping from his lips. “And they were never married?" Tom didn't know but guessed.
Trixie's eyes snapped open. How did he know that? She had never told anyone what her mother had confessed in one of her drunken stupors. How did he find out? Trixie hadn’t even told Dr. Reedy. Maybe Tom was bluffing. But she couldn't take the chance.
"No, they weren't."
"Your parents weren't married. What does that make you?"
“Oh, my God, No.”
“Answer before you make me angry again, bitch,” Tom spat out the words.
“A b...b...bastard, Sir.”
"The Trailer Park Trash is a bastard. How typical! How did your father pay your mother to fuck her? Money or alcohol or drugs? Or was she just a horny slut who wanted any dick she could get rammed in her?”
God! thought Trixie. That was the question she'd asked herself a hundred times since she'd learned they weren't married.
"I don't know. Please believe me. I don't know.
"Perhaps it's best that you don't, Trixie,” he said, almost sympathetically. Trixie now was racked with heavy sobs.
“We'll move on from your parents to your choices. How many boys did you fuck before you went away to Evergreen?"
Trixie paused a moment, counting. "Nine, Sir."
“Did you love or even care for any of them?”
"No, Sir." Trixie was answering by rote. She was now following his lead to make the most humiliating statements possible.
"How often do you let these boys have sex, any sex they wanted, on the first date?"
“Every time, Sir."
“So you went out with boys you didn’t care about, gave them whatever sex they wanted the first time you were together. What word applies to you then, Ms. Trailer Park Trash Bastard?”
“I...what?” Trixie wasn’t sure what he wanted.
“A girl who will perform any sex act that any boy wants on the first date is called a slut, isn’t she?”
Oh, God! “Yes, Sir.”
“Then say it, bitch. Say I am a slut.”
“I am a slut,” Trixie whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Louder.”
“I am a slut, Sir!” Trixie gagged and hung her head.
"Okay. You admit you are Trailer Park Trash, A Bastard, and a Slut! Now we've made some progress. You just might convince me that you are truly regretful and deserve to graduate."