Tower
Reverse: Tyranny, threats to one’s freedom.
I heard the teacher slam the chalk onto the metal shelf attached to the board, I swore I heard the screws holding it on creak ever so slightly, threatening to give, but holding on. Barely. I looked up, and of course the teacher, Ms. Trish, was looking at me with her beady brown eyes that were magnified by her thick black rimmed glasses. Her hair was a gross brown, a mix between a blonde and brown really. Too much dying I always thought.
I knew she was going to start yelling at me, I could always tell. Her face seemed to be a vibrant red whenever she got angry, which was only when I was there. She also had this tendency to flare her nostrils like a wild boar, maybe that’s what her hair reminded me of. That of a wild boar’s.
She looked me dead in the eye and I just looked back at her, like I was a, um… mannequin I think is the word. So then I guess she started yelling at me… I’m not positive about what. I zoned out, again. I really shouldn’t, I know, especially with Miranda sitting right. In. front. Of. Me.
Miranda Shoals is one of the elite popular girls in our school, as I’ve heard while people gossip about others when I’m too close for them to gossip about me. She’s a fake Blondie, with (literally) inch long nails which I (personally) have found out are real, after a few scratches down my arms.
Now I’m not saying she’s a bad person, I wouldn’t know. She just hates me. Like everyone else in our school. So now as the teacher is yelling louder and louder, apparently she asked me something and I didn’t answer, so Miranda –I guess- stood up, walked closer to my desk, and –well- let’s just say that her completely real nails were used to gauge my cheek, ripping the fiber of my flesh. And yah that’s how it went down.
Now most people would have gotten up and slapped her back right? Well at this point I knew the blood was hitting the paper on my desk, and when I looked up I saw Ms. Trish smile that yellowing, coffee stained smile of hers, as she calmed down. Miranda walked back to her desk.
“Now look what you did Angelene,” The boar-gone-human drawled my name like she was drunk. That’s it though, only my name was slurred. “You should have at least enough brains to move a paper when you cut yourself.” The class snickered.
I stood. I just grabbed my bag off the floor and stood. Many a time in the beginning of this hell on earth I would have blushed at the snickers, would have cried. I would have yelled and fought back. Now I knew better, now I knew to just leave.
I knew to back down.
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