Motherhood
"We're rolling in 3…2…1." The cameraman focused the lens on Lana Winters, who straightened up and smiled artificially.
"Welcome, from the people of Boston to the people of New Orleans. This is Lana Winters, reporting to you live from the Robicheaux Academy, the infamous 'witch academy', to investigate whether the phenomena of witches coming to the light being true. I'm here to interview the dean of this establishment, Cordelia Foxx, to get the scoop. Come with me and enter these gated walls to see a world many do not see." Lana spoke to the camera, microphone in hand.
Ever since she has heard of this school, Lana wanted to know every detail, every fact, every secret, this school had to offer. Not only would it get her back in the spotlight, Lana would also prove to the general public that there are no such things as witches. It is another sham, a ploy to get into people's pocketbooks. But to get ratings and hold on to her fading reputation as a reporter, she sucks it up and pretends to believe this lie in hopes of finding truth.
The gated walls open, and she and her camera crew enter cautiously, viewing the students, the atmosphere, even the campus itself. Lana saw the students, from all shapes and sizes, wearing all black, greeted her and her crew with warm smiles and welcome. Lana's almost touched. Almost. Her eyes scan her surroundings quickly, making mental notes to ask Ms. Foxx about. When she's approached the front door, she greets the silent butler with questionable scars, who in turn beckons her in.
The butler takes her coat wordlessly, tells her Ms. Foxx will be there shortly, and vanishes into a sea of students. Lana became swept away by the beauty of this place: crystal chandeliers, portraits of elegant women set off the pristine white everything, with Stevie Nicks playing 'Rhiannon' with a white piano not too far away. Since when did witches become so…glamorous? Who could even afford Stevie Nicks on their salary? A champagne glass filled to the brim placed in her hand that she doesn't remember having added more to Lana's curiosity. She expected grimy walls littered with blood-written pentagrams, goat heads plastered to the walls like trophies, naked women dancing around fires as mutated men screamed for mercy…
She watches too many movies.
Instead of disappointment, Lana drinks her champagne (nearly gagging on the exquisite taste) and nods her head in approval, loving what she's seeing. When she hears a soft voice and even softer clicks of heels on wood, Lana whips her head around and sees Cordelia and nearly dropped her glass.
This was the great Cordelia Foxx, the dean, or Supreme, of this establishment. Cordelia, so strong-willed, so beautiful, so…much of a spitting image of Lana in her younger days, sans the blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
As if Lana's narcissism couldn't get any worse.
The interview begins in Cordelia's office, with Lana's questions beginning sharp and aiming for the jugular.
"Why have you begun this establishment?"
"What has happened to the previous Supreme, minus the cancer?"
"What about the mysterious disappearances of three of your students? Can you tell me what has happened to them?"
"How are you able to finance this academy?"
"Ever since your husband's tragic death, why must you keep his last name on your records?"
"How did you find the first girls for this academy?"
"How did you know you were a witch? What powers do you have?"
"Do you have any answers regarding the unsolved murder cases of Delphine LaLaurie and two police officers prior to an unsolved kidnapping case of an infant from November of last year? Does it have any connection to your witchcraft?"
"What has happened to Madison Montgomery prior to her enrollment in your academy? Her family has not seen or heard from her within six months."
Cordelia answers them all without batting an eye, though Lana could tell some of her answers were rehearsed. Cordelia's ease with her dirty laundry and confidence in her answers agitates Lana to no end. There's something Cordelia's hiding, a crack in the armor that needs exposing. The fact her own crew is buying into her lies were angering the aging reporter to a breaking point.
"Show me your powers. Prove to me everything you say isn't bullshit." Lana blurts out, creating silence among the room. Cordelia sighs, closing her eyes, and opening them again. What frightened the crew was that her eyes are nothing more than whites, reflecting Lana's surprised face.
"Give me your hand, Lana. With my power of sight, I can see and know everything about you, even your darkest secrets."
Rolling her eyes, Lana holds out her hand. Smiling, Cordelia grabs it and a pregnant pause occurs.
"What are my secrets, Cordelia?" the reporter asked, acid on her tongue and a smirk on her face.
"Your secrets are… you dye your hair every Wednesday of each month, you were a survivor of Briarcliff and were wrongly convicted, and your first lover was… Wendy Peyser."
Ice fell into the pit of Lana's stomach.
How could she know such information? Lana hasn't told a soul after her book hit the press. The people who knew beforehand were dead or too old and senile to remember. There's no reasonable way Cordelia could get her hands on that info unless…
"Is all that true, Ms. Winters?" the camera panned onto Lana's face before she could respond.
"Well, I do dye my hair every Wednesday, I am a survivor of Briarcliff, I was wrongly convicted because during that time it was considered insanity to be gay, but as for Wendy Peyser," Lana began to choke, but regain composure.
"Ms. Peyser was nothing more to me than a roommate and a good friend. We never were lovers."
'My God you are pathetic, the way you stop at nothing to defend a lie. I'm starting to believe it's the truth," Wendy's voice echoes in her mind, filling her with guilt.
'Forgive me, Wendy. Please forgive me.' Lana mentally replied.
Cordelia sauntered over to her, her white eyes boring into Lana's, looking into the depths of her soul. For what it felt like hours, Cordelia said with a smile, "Well, I suppose my power of sight sometimes falters. Excuse my faux pas." Her eyes changed back to normal and it was over.
Tension has been broken and Lana can breathe again. She gave the cue to cut the camera and to go on lunch break. The camera crew was gone, leaving the two women alone.
The tension resurfaced.
"Would you like to know what else I saw, Ms. Winters?" Cordelia closes and locks her door before turning to her.
"I saw that you've murdered two people, that you're a manipulative, cold-hearted bitch who wrote lies to sell a book," Cordelia sits down at her desk, pouring herself a glass of scotch.
"I respected you for killing your rapist, but to kill your own son…"
"Who told you that? Those are lies you're spewing! Lies! I could have you in court for slander!" Lana grabbed Cordelia by her blouse, snarling her teeth. Cordelia calmly stared before throwing her to the wall with her telekinesis. Lana fell to the floor with a soft thud, groaning in pain.
"You and I both know that what I've said isn't lies. I saw everything; I knew everything, even the little things you tried to hide. Honestly, your evil gives Bloody Face a run for his money. We need to talk."
Picking herself up from the impact, she looks warily at Cordelia.
"Talk about what?"
"I want to interview you, I have some tough questions you need to answer for me," Cordelia hands Lana a glass of scotch.
"What are the questions?"
"Let's start with Motherhood."