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"Watch where are you going!"
A girl exclaims behind me after I bump into her, but I don’t have time to stop and apologize since I’m already running late to class. I think I should’ve listened to Mom when she told me not to stay up late, but tell me, how could I stop when the enemies in my book are finally becoming lovers after, like, a hundred books? I had to finish it, right?
Currently, I'm pursuing physiology. I never knew what I wanted to become or what job I’d do, but like they say, "Do what your heart desires!" And my heart has always wanted to help people with their problems, to understand what they’re going through or whatever situation is causing them to feel sad or depressed. I’ve noticed a lot in our society—though not all—but most people don’t take mental health seriously when it’s so damn important.
No wonder more than 700,000 people die by suicide every year.
So that’s why I decided to give this path a chance, and now here I am, almost two years into my degree at the University of East London.
After sprinting like the Angel of Death is on my tail, I finally make it to class. The professor is already teaching something on the blackboard, and my breathing comes in ragged after running so hard. I take a deep breath before walking up to the door and asking,
"May I come in?" Every student in the class turns their head toward me.
Silence.
Why the hell is everyone looking at me like I’ve committed a crime or something? Look away, all of you. I’m just late, which isn’t exactly new— "Oh, who do we have here! Our Zaira with her perfect time management, huh?" Sarcasm drips from the professor’s tone, causing some of the boys to laugh.
Bastards.
I glance at the professor, who is looking at me like I’m personally responsible for all the white hair on his head. I quickly drop my gaze, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.
Translation: I’m afraid I’ll accidentally laugh.
"I’m sorry for being late. I’ll make sure not to repeat this mistake agai—"
"Miss Malik, you’ve been saying that for a whole month now!" His stern, slightly raised voice sends shivers down my spine. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
My body fills with anxiety. It always happens when anyone raises their voice at me.
"I’m sorry." My voice comes out shakier than I intended. What the hell is wrong with me?
