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Thirty minutes till the end of class, you bounced your feet repeatedly in front of the clock because you couldn't manage to remain seated any longer; something just didn't feel right, and you were about to cry. You didn't want to remain in the class much longer while the professor mumbled something about how you needed to study for your examinations.
Could you wait 29 minutes, you asked yourself, looking around briefly to see if anyone had noticed your plight. You thought you were going to faint. You let out a heavy sigh and rested your head between your crossed arms over the table, hoping to be distracted from your roiling emotions.
"Fuck me," you said gently, recognising that your strategy was not working. You despised this feeling.
You inhaled deeply as you felt the tears start to rise up in your eyes. You couldn't bear the look on everyone's face when they saw you crying. To stop crying, you forced yourself to nibble on your lower lip. It wasn't functioning. Tears splattered your History notes, and you quickly packed your belongings. As you hurriedly zipped up the hood of your hoodie and grabbed your bags, you quickly wiped your cheeks.
Instead of crying in front of everyone right now, you decided that it would be better to have them all look at you and hear the teacher yell at you for leaving without permission. As you left the class, you could hear the teacher calling your name as you made your way down the hallway and into the female toilet.
As you hurriedly entered the cubicle, your stomach began to ache. You hung up your bag and undid the button and zip on your jeans, dragging them down with your pants to reveal blood. All that just for you to be on your fucking period.
"Shit, shit, shit," you cursed to yourself, cursing the flo app for getting your period date wrong. You forgot a pad and loathed the thought of walking around with blood on your underwear. So you grabbed a few tissues and stuffed them in the lining of your underwear before pulling them up, you nibbled on your lower lip as your stomach began to cramp.
Finally understanding why you were feeling that way and why your period symptoms had to appear in the middle of a lesson, you brushed away your tears. As you left the cubicle and picked up your bag, you came into contact with a brown-haired female who was readjusting something in her bra.
Sasha always wore her hair in a high ponytail, so you knew it was her. You didn't want to look at her just now because you had just stopped crying, so you moved three spaces away to the sink and started washing your hand while minding your own business. You noticed the crushed-up pills strewn about on top of her phone screen, followed by a rolled-up money note. Sasha watched you for a moment, her gaze lingering, before she spoke.
"Yes?" she answered in a somewhat nasty manner. She was growing annoyed by your prolonged gaze.
You were never fond of Sasha, and while you weren't the type of person to pass judgement, everyone knew she was a junkie, as was her entire friendship group. There was something about her that irritated you, and she sensed it from you as well.
