One Shots

-Countdown-

Writing Prompt
Inspired by Tumblr
(I'm hungry)

<everyone has a clock, or timer, on their wrist that counts down till the moment you die. it can be altered depending on what action you take. today it altered, from 60 years, dropping down to 15 minutes>

+++
This can't be happening.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

I fucked up. I fucked up bad.

But the problem is, I don't know what the fuck I did. Or maybe it isn't even my fault. But fuck that! I fucked up either ways.!

I swallowed and swivel around in my seat, surveying the class. The don't notice. They don't notice the distress etched on my face.

Why aren't they noticing?

I spun back to the front, focusing on the teacher writing down English notes of the board, the surface of the marker squeaking against the board every so often.

Why aren't they noticing?

I abandoned my work, my table messy with papers and pens.

This isn't the time to worry about education. It's not like it can help.

I scorned, bitterness lacing my tongue. What am I suppose to do? Essay my way out of this predicament?

'At least my snark hasn't left me in my time of distress.' I mused, 'Wait no. Focus.' I condemned.

14 minutes, 37 seconds.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck!

I gulp in fresh oxygen greedily, a horrible attempt to calm myself, as I choke.

'Maybe this is how it happens? Just me choking because I got nervous?'

I don't know whether to call it luck. On one hand at least I know I'm not going to get blown up, but on the other that's one embarrassing way to die.

I can see it already, 'Student chokes herself to death from anxiety!'

Fuck that shit. If I'm dying, I'm going down looking like a badass. Or save someone's crying ass. Either way works.

I grimaced as I steadied myself, hand pressed over my mouth to tone the noise down.

The timer is still counting down. I guess it isn't the choking nerves then.

Breathe in. Swallow. Glance around. Breathe out. Breathe in. Swallow. Glance around. Breathe out. Breath in-

"Alyssa can you focus? What's so interesting?" I flinched in my seat, spinning around so fast I might whiplash myself to death.

My eyelids felt like it was peeled back. I am aware of the sudden silence of the room. Unwanted attention. Oh fuck.

"Well?" She prodded on. I hold back the urge to throw a scissors in her direction. Instead I scowl and mumble an apology.