F3e9a7bdcaa485e194a0798bb9bc0b2b

Little Red Riding Hood

United Kingdom

Don't just be another brick in the wall.

I also love summer evenings, cats, bubbles and cuddles :)

Message from Writer

I'm a teenage girl with a peculiar mind. I try to make sense of this hectic world through writing and it does work, sometimes. I really want to become a better writer, maybe even have something published one day.. that would be amazing. It's probably worth mentioning that a lot of my pieces are not finished and probably never will be finished, but I'm proud of them regardless, which is why I publish them. It's also probably worth mentioning that some of my pieces deal with quite dark and sad topics. I'll put trigger warnings at the start of the pieces that I believe should have trigger warnings but if you have any problems with any of the other ones, please let me know. I don't want to hurt anybody.
LR xx

Examination Damnation

March 12, 2016

FREE WRITING

0
I don’t trust him. Something about his face, his stance, the way he tries to crack a joke with the tone of a cracked whip. He gurgles down his energy drink, the sugar pulsing through his veins, stimulating his brain to stay awake just another hour. I’ve done all I can. I need Miss to read it through and decide which bits I need to cut out. I’m over the word count. I’m always over the word count. But she’s not here. So I’m going to be sat for another hour before I’m free to leave this school. Maybe I should have stayed in IT. At least I might have been able to listen to music there. A little bit of Scotland to pass the time. But all the other invigilators have been so kind, so calm. This is the quiet room. The small room. The room people do their exams in if they can’t do them in the hall. That’s why I’m here. But right now I’m on a level two on my ‘How anxious are you’ chart. I should be at zero in here. When he was talking, I was at a four. I felt like crying. I wanted to leave the room. But I didn’t. I stayed. I’m still trying to decide whether that was a mistake. The way my parents see it is: If I stay in the room or done the exam, I’ve done well. The way I see it: if I feel like leaving or not going to the exam, I’ve failed. Because my anxiety or black dog or whatever fucking analogy you want to use shouldn’t affect me like this. The panic creeping up my spine every time the invigilator walks by and peers at my work shouldn’t exist. I know these exams don’t matter, I know they are only mocks, but regardless of what I know, I still have the urge to back into a corner and cry.

I couldn’t breathe last night. I was so angry at myself for yesterday, even though I made it to all my exams. What happened shouldn’t have happened. And I don’t know why it happened. I’m so tired. I feel like death. I just want to curl up, listen to Classic FM and nap for the rest of my days. “But it is Christmas soon, hang in there.” So what if it’s fucking Christmas soon? I hang in there every day. I breathe, I count, I calm myself down. Only to have to do it all over again cause some idiot touched me. He’s staring straight at me now. I can feel the glare of his bird like eyes on my forehead. It makes me want to scratch the skin off. He was reyt rude earlier. Storming in like he owned the place. Telling us to sit and stand and demanding we tell him our names. It’s not our fault we sat in the wrong places. We didn’t know we had places to sit. We’re the special kids, sir. The ones who are naughty for attention or have mental disorders, or both. We’re fragile and unstable. The ones who should have been left to die at birth. But we weren’t, we are in here, just as confused and unready as you are. So please calm down and treat us with a little kindness. Breathe.
 Only forty minutes left.

Print

See History
  • March 12, 2016 - 2:52pm (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.