"and who told you to help me? why are you doing this?"
"maybe because there's no point scoring 100 if you're not here to see me beat you."
⊹ ࣪ ˖ lee hwayoung has nothing better to do than to beat yang jungwon, who's been her enemy for as long as she...
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Delving your head deeper into the stack of past papers you have nearby, you heave a deep sigh. Piles and piles of convection currents and radiation and Boyle's Law. All because of a 98 on a Physics test. And the Economics test doesn't even balance out the scores. It was absolutely irking, the way their expectations were so unrealistic yet achievable, and you hated the way these dreams laughed at you when you were just one careless mistake away from a 100.
The bold red ink of Ms Jung's pen confronts you eye to eye, like you're the one who shouldn't be seeing so much scarlet. Like you're the one who should be winning. Like you're the one who can't lose.
Like you're the one who was born to be first. Always.
This competitive spirit, in perpetuum, stems from the psyche of your parents that was channelled into your very soul. Like you were made as their tool to win, to achieve the dreams they never got to achieve, to do the things they didn't, to be their sacrifice to accomplish all the goals they never could.
Like you were their prized possession, like an excuse to make up for their lack of effort during their teenage years. Like you were their trophy, used to show off their amazing 'talents' of parenting, to boost their egos and their thriving reputations and their supercilious pride.
You shuffle through the worksheets within your reach. Just the same old application questions of thermal physics. There's absolutely no point in completing these. It was just one careless mistake where you forgot to change the unit, and now these are the consequences you face. It's numbing, honestly, to take a view at the canvas of white that paints your vision. And a veil descends over your eyes, one that's been clouding your view of the world.
The world, full of colour and music, birdsong that is jingling melodies to your ears, flora and fauna that bring magic to the nature around you.
Blinded by grey and cement walls and the ticking of a lone clock.
Instead of living like a normal child, you were hidden, surrounded in the concrete jungle you've come to hate more and more as time passed. You've grown used to days without leisure or laxing, days where you were trapped in a windowless room forced to memorise the times tables years before you could even attend middle school.
You were shrewd away like a mouse in its hole, left to its own devices and coerced to complete tasks close enough to resemble child labour. It was far beyond your capabilities, but what choice did you have? You could either do or not, in which case the latter ended up with no meals for days on end.
And that was what infuriated you. To not have the freedom to do anything you want, or have anyone at all who could possibly understand how you felt or the hardships you'd endured up to this point. Most of your fellow classmates have only ever witnessed your successes and achievements and thought, "She must be such a gifted genius to do all this."
You slam your booklet close, sighing heavily whilst resting your weary head in your palms. Your elbows are propped up on the desk, supporting the weight on your shoulders that are tired from 17 years of ache and unhappiness.
