I bent down to take out our history textbook as Miss Agatha had instucted. I fumbled, leading to my almost dropping the 200-page volume and a short gasp escaping my lips.
"What was that?" She sounded almost offended– sorry actually offended. "How dare you let out such a frightful scream?!" She said pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me as if she had just discovered that I was the person who murdered her parents 20 years ago. I was confused, what did she mean by 'frightful scream'? Though a couple moments later it struck me, the small gasp I had made when I almost dropped my history textbook.
Eventually she moved on from her unreasonable fit of rage.
Halfway across the lesson, my nose started to itch, but my attempts to control it failed, and I sneezed. But she decided that that was moraly unexceptable.
"THAT IS IT, I HAVE BEEN PUTING UP WITH YOU FOR THE WHOLE LESSON, AND IF YOU CAN'T RESPECT ME THEN MAYBE I SHOULD JUST LEAVE!"
I wanted to argue back, to try to make sense of exactly how me sneezing was a sign of disrespect, but I bit my tongue, living in the delusion that she wouldn't actually leave. But to my astonishment she tucked her version of our textbook into her fake-leather laptop bag, picked it up, and strutted out, all without saying a single word more.
I glanced at the clock, 9:30??!! Our hour-long lesson wasn't over till 10! I examined the room, but everyone else had simply started reading from the textbook, great more abnormal behavior. I peeked out the window to see if by luck, anyone was outside, and just as I was about to give up, seeing someone who screamed authority.
I sighed of relief, maybe, just maybe she would at least try to listen to my side of the story and not immediately jump to the conclusion that I was wrong.
The door opened to reveal a woman who seemed to be in her mid-fifties wearing a grey blazer with a white buttoned-down shirt and a black pencil-skirt for the finish. Her sharp grey eyes beheld a piercing gaze, completing her stern expression of disapproval. Her hair was tied in a tight bun, her shoulders squared and lips pressed tightly for an overall stern, severe and disapproving look.
"Good Morning Miss Victoria Ashford," All of the students rose up very suddenly to greet her, tension filling the room. "Where is the teacher?" Her voice was stern and firm, carrying a slight British accent at the end. "Uh miss she walked out of the cla–"
"Students will raise their hands if they want to say something." She cut me of in an angry tone. I raised my hand. "Yes?" She said, addressing me. "Miss Agatha walked out of the lesson just a few minutes ago," I explained. "Must be because of one of you little bratts," she replied. "Uh, actua–"24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXS5jjRHY7F
"That's it! Did you not just hear me tell you that students will raise their hands if they wish to speak?" She didn't need to raise her voice to be intimidating. Then she had one of the janitors come and get me. I was half-carried half-lead to a plain white room that I had never seen before. Once thrust inside I saw that the room was completely bare, no windows, no shelves nothing, just a small light bulb hanging from a thin strip of wire.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMrLnoQ0UT8
Almost immediately did my claustrophobia started to kick in, and my attempts to bust open the door were left in vain. In the end I resulted to curling into a ball and taking long deep breaths to console myself. After a while everything went black.
Written by: @Nora13, edited by @Slayer22
ns3.142.194.159da2This is based off the time we were having an after school dance practice for a proformance and a group of 2-3 girls were constantly talking after many warnings and our teacher left mid lesson.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsSpoSsDs01
