I walked through the hallways with my head down, my books pressed tightly against my chest. A black hoodie hung over my shoulders.
I felt everyone's gaze. I heard them whisper. I heard them place their money.
"I feel so bad for her."
"How long do you think she'll last?"
"I bet fifty bucks they'll kill her within the month."
I sucked in my breath. I chewed my bottom lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
They felt bad for me. They didn't know how long I'd last. They thought I'd die this month.
Well, if that's what they predict, I'll have to prove them wrong.
Or at least, try.