Wake Me When It's Over

"How much longer are you going to keep this up, Thorne?"

Mom's voice rang across the dead-silent exam hall, sharp enough to cut through the stillness. Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked, step by step, toward where I had fallen.

My cheek was pressed against the cold concrete. A warm trickle slid down from where my head had struck the desk.

"Ms. Collins, I think Cecelia might've actually fainted," a boy nearby said quietly, his voice hesitant.

"Fainted? Don't be ridiculous! This is just her laziness acting up!"

Mom grabbed the back of my collar in one swift motion. Her grip was shockingly strong as she hauled me up off the ground. My head lolled limply, and the back of my hand scraped against the rough floor, tearing the skin open in a streak of red.

"You sleep in class, you sleep while eating, and now you're sleeping during your final exam too?" Mom hissed under her breath, her teeth clenched tight. "You have no shame, but I do. I'm the dean of discipline."

She dragged me toward the exit. My toes trailed uselessly across the floor, leaving behind two long gray streaks.

"Ms. Collins, maybe we should take her to the infirmary?" The younger proctor, Olivia Zanetti, stood up, worry written clearly across her face.

"The infirmary? Ms. Zanetti, don't let her fool you." Mom did not even turn back. She only let out a cold laugh. "She was up all night on her phone, and now she's putting on a show for me."

"But she looks really pale. Something's not right," Olivia said, stepping down from the podium as if to stop her.

"She's faking it. I know my own daughter." Mom yanked the front door of the exam hall open. "Keep working on your exams. Anyone who looks around again will have their paper voided."

With that, the room fell into instant silence.

…

Mom dragged me all the way to a spare classroom at the end of the corridor. It was used to store broken desks and chairs, and the air carried a sharp, musty smell.

Without the slightest restraint, she flung me onto the ground. The back of my head slammed hard against the door with a dull thud. And in that exact moment, something shifted.

My body suddenly felt light.

I drifted upward, hovering in midair as I looked down at myself. The girl on the ground lay motionless, her eyes shut tight, her face frighteningly pale. Her limbs were twisted at unnatural angles.

Mom crouched down and grabbed my chin roughly. "Cecelia Thorne, open your eyes."

Seeing that I didn't respond, my mom let out a cold, irritated laugh, her gaze dropping to the blood near my ear. It had flowed from my temple, tracing down along the curve of my ear and into my neck.

She frowned in disgust and pulled out a tissue from her pocket. "You even prepared red ink in advance just to fake this?"

She scrubbed harshly at my ear. The rough paper tore at the skin, smearing the blood even further. "Disgusting. Just like your useless father—always resorting to cheap tricks."

Mom crumpled the bloodstained tissue into a ball and threw it straight at my face. "Stay here and lie all you want. I'll see how long you can keep this act up."

Then she stood, brushed the dust from her hands, and walked out of the spare classroom without another glance.