It took me several minutes to clean up the blood that had dropped to the tiled floor. Since my parents were gone, I could take as much time as I needed - and in this case, I’d needed a lot.
The first half hour was to gather myself and pick up the shattered razor frame, tossing it in the wastebasket on top of the used blade. The next hour was used to shower, letting the sting back into my body and yet again feeling some type of relief. The remainder of the evening was spent in just a sports bra, letting the new cut air out while I attempted to recreate my essay on my computer.
I had a hard time putting thoughts together, though. The nail marks on the underside of my arm still caught my eye. For a moment, I thought about covering them up with foundation or something, but I decided just to let them be there. A reminder of Niall’s insults.
I worked late into the night, my sagging eyelids beckoning me into sleep. I refused to fall, though. I needed to get the essay done - again. What had taken me days to create had to be compacted into a few hours. It was not my best work - in fact, if I were in any other state of mind, I would’ve been embarrassed. But my limited time pushed me on, and I had to comply.
It was about four in the morning when I finally fell asleep, printed essay sitting on my bedside table.
---
“Samm,” Mr. Robertson stopped me as I was walking out of the classroom.
“Yes?” I asked quietly, stepping aside to allow the rest of the students to pass behind me.
Mr. Robertson’s gaze followed the last student out the door, obviously waiting for privacy. When the door closed, he shifted in his chair so that his shoulders were square to mine.
“Your essay,” he said, and my chest automatically tightened. I was tired through all of writing it, but that was still no excuse for the poor workmanship I’d turned in. “Seemed to have a few mistakes and misinformation, Ms. Carter.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said quietly, watching his fingers drum against the surface of his desk. “I know it’s not my best work. Please forgive me, there was a complication with-”
“-What complication?” he questioned.
I flinched. I hadn’t meant to say complication. The word had just slipped my lips. If I even tried to tell anyone about Niall, they’d either laugh in my face or join in with him. I feared that Mr. Robertson would be the same.
“I-I had to-” I stuttered, searching for a cover as my anxiety grew more and more. Thankfully, I didn’t have to concoct a lie before he spoke again.
“Samm,” he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his concerned eyes. “I’m just going to say that if you ever turn in something like that again, your tutoring privileges will be revoked.”
My stomach dropped. Though I had to tutor Niall, tutoring got me credits to use in future years, along with being able to put it down on a college application. Basically, if I didn’t have tutoring on my application, I had nothing. And Mr. Robertson had the ability to take away my tutoring privileges - he’d been the one to assign them to me. And the worst thing was that he knew this work was not quality. He knew it’d been thrown together.
“I understand completely,” I said quickly, staring down at the ground. I probably shouldn’t have, but I gave him another excuse. “I was pressed for time.”
“Hmm,” he said, setting his glasses back on the brim of his nose and tapping his chin with a pencil. “I expected better from you. You’re my top student, Ms. Carter. And you had two weeks to complete this assignment.”
