Chapter 52 | The Paper

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Elena's P.O.V.

I sat in the classroom, staring at the naked wall. Just staring as if I had the world's time in my hands. It's funny how one can see a clock so differently.

In my eyes, the clock's arms were going awfully slow - almost like they weren't moving at all. My classmates, on the other hand, were anxious and waiting hastily for their English test to start.

What about you? You might wonder, and I'll tell you why.

After enduring everything and realizing the murderous truths that I have faced, I stopped trying.

There were times where some of my teachers would put a test on my desk, but after seeing how I did not show any interest to answer or write anything, they took it away.

They felt sorry for me, I could tell from the way they looked at me when they removed the test. A pathetic sympathy that I despised and did not need.

Always have I been an active student in all of my classes. Always answering and asking questions. Always doing my homework and asking for advice of improvement. Always being the one to get the top grades.

They're familiar to the potential I posses, and they know what I can do. But due to my lack of motivation and submitted work, I began to fail. One class after the other, I received F's.

But I could not be bothered by my sinking grades. It meant nothing.

Just like this English test. I knew I was destined to fail the moment Mr. Walter came into the class with the test papers, handling it out to everyone.

Those who received the tests were now hurriedly scribbling an essay, minutes passing like seconds. The sounds of pencils attacking the papers displayed their nervousness and anxiety for the English test.

I could feel their distress, taste the familiar feeling of not having enough time. But now, I could not even find it in me to care.

At last, Mr. Walter crossed my desk. He stood there for a while, but I did not meet his eyes as I just waited for the blow to strike. I was expecting to be yelled at, to be called out or something in that direction.

However, to my surprise, he did not say anything. Instead, he put a paper in front of me and walked back to his desk.

I glanced at the white, naked paper, trying to understand what kind of a test this was. My eyebrows furrowed, and I turned to look at my classmates' tests to see if we all received the same.

Mine was the only blank one.

Curiosity lifted my head to spill my attention on Mr. Walter who was reading a book. He did not meet my gaze, but I knew he felt the touch of my eyes and bewilderment.

Out of inquisitiveness, I picked up the sheet that felt heavy in my hands. I watched how the empty paper reflected back, analyzing the sheet with a careful eye.

What does it mean? Is he excusing me from the test? Or is he trying to be mean?

I looked back at my teacher, waiting for some kind of an instruction. But his eyes never left the book.

My gaze fell on the blank sheet in front of me, which gave no clue or whisper of anything whatsoever. It did not awake any optional answers for me to hunt after. It was just a blank and empty paper, waiting to be filled with anything.

That's when it dawned on me.

For the first time in weeks, I picked up a pencil.

And I began writing.

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