“Tsk, they said I'd have some difficulty cause I'd been assigned as your partner.”
“Just shut up and copy my answers.” I handed him the paper with all the questions answered.
“You weren't listening, were you?”
I gave him a fixed glare before looking away.
“Um, why is there...?” His voice trailed off, as if in confusion.
I glanced over at him and he was staring at the blood on the page. Cursing to myself quietly, I tried my best to keep my composure.
“I'm just going to copy them, then. Did you hurt your hands, or something?” He said nervously.
“None of your business.” I mumbled.
“People are going to notice. There's blood all over your hands.”
“Don't waste my time. Is there anything else you need?” I said, hiding my hands under the desk.
“Well, we're supposed to discuss our answers, but I doubt you'd be willing to do that.”
“Just go and hand it in.” I avoided his eyes.
“Why're you so annoyed? I only did what they asked me to, you know.”
“You're still talking? I have nothing else for you. Now, please leave me alone.”
I watched him walk away and turn his copy in. He seemed a bit upset, but I couldn't find it within myself to really care. I wasn't sure why I was still watching him while he sat back down and avoided my eyes. He seemed to have black hair and blue eyes, but I didn't make too much eye contact to know for sure. I grew a bit annoyed with myself because I couldn't figure out why I couldn't tear my gaze away from him. His eyes met mine and I nervously looked down at my hands. The other people in the room started to talk rather loudly and I started to get even more nervous. I wasn't able to push away the negative emotions I felt. The pain that was coming from my hands returned when I drove my nails into them again. Much to my dismay, those thoughts of my father had resurfaced and added to my anguish. I wanted him to be home a bit more often, but I knew there wasn't anything I could do about that. There was no way I could even manage to tell him something like that. I was shaking a bit and I couldn't focus on what the instructor was saying. The other people's voices were starting to cause my head to ache. Once class was dismissed, I quickly left and hid in the stairwell. I could hear that guy who had been my partner talk to someone else right beside the door. They didn't seem to notice I was there and I considered hiding someplace else, but it didn't look like I could leave without them seeing me. I tried my best to stay quiet.
“See? I told you she was a piece of work.” The other student said.
“She looked sad, I wonder why.” He replied.
“Why does it matter? She isn't worth your time.”
He didn't reply to what they'd said.
“Oh, come on. She's like that because she's crazy, that's all there is to it.”
“Don't say that.”
“Everyone else knows already.”
“Whatever. Let's go before we're late.”
They walked off without ever noticing my presence.
It seemed that I hadn't been wrong about what others had really thought about me. Like they would ever understand what I had to deal with. That I couldn't block out my problems with blissful ignorance, or even, drown it in stupidity. And yet, I was a bit glad that he had somewhat stood up for me and I wasn't sure why. Looking down at my hands, I saw that they were dirty with blood. I went into the washroom and did my best to wash it all off, but I didn't get too far because of the pain. Luckily, I didn't have a class to take, so I took my time.