[Mature Content]
Stuck with knowing the emotions of everyone she ever met, Emilia is brought under the wing of one of her professors in her last year of university. She feels alienated by her abilities because she hasn't ever understood them. When H...
School started today. My fourth year of college was beginning and somehow it felt like it was still summer, but as my peers walked passed me with their book bags slung over the shoulders and their headphones in, I had a strong dose of reality.
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As I stepped onto the bus to shuttle to my classroom building, I sat down in the only open seat. Two girls sitting across from me started speaking softly to each other and side eyeing me. Their eyes ran up my bruised forearms until they locked eyes with me. Instantly, I blushed and hid my arms behind my book bag that sat in my lap. They were mocking me for whatever psychotic reason.
Their emotions were confusing compared to their outward rhetoric. They were both sad and envious of me for whatever reason, but their whispering back and forth seemed to hide most of their inner feelings toward seeing the bruises on my arms.
Then as they started giggling, my emotions built up and I took a calming breath. My fingers twitched and I reached to pinch the skin of my arm behind my book bag.
"Don't do it, be normal, behave..." my mother's voice echoed inside my head. I twisted the skin on my forearm and winced when I couldn't handle the pain anymore.
The bus stopped on campus and I rushed out of the cramped place to get to my first class of the semester. When I arrived, it was a huge lecture course with well over a couple hundred students in it. I took a seat in the second row of the stacked room and hoped no one would sit beside me. And thankfully, no one did. Maybe they, too, saw the bruises on my arms.
"Welcome to Perspectives 1102. I am Dr. Topalli and this is my teaching assistant, Harry Styles," my professor started class and I pulled out my notebook to sit on my desk.
The professor was an older man with greying hair and an obvious dick-head complex. From the moment he started speaking, I sensed his brooding while he started going over the syllabus. He was a wicked man and a scornful man. But why?
His assistant was much younger, around our age with dark brown hair and an attractive face. He stayed silent as he sat at a desk while Dr. Topalli walked around the room beginning his lecture. His emotions were absent and I wondered if he was a psychopath or sociopath.
"Anger and aggression. What's the difference? Are they bad? Are they synonymous?" he asked and I raised my hand and so did a few other students.
"Young lady in the front," Dr. Topalli pointed to me.
"Anger is an emotion while aggression is a behavioral choice. You can feel angry all day or for as long as you want, but when you choose to become aggressive, that's when it becomes bad and socially unacceptable."
"Good," he nodded his head toward me and I could feel his relief radiating off of him. "What's your name?"
"Emilia, but I go by Mia," I tucked a strand of brown hair behind my ear.
