Chapter 7

One of the professors walked up to the principal and handed over an iPad to her. Mrs. Deborah, our principal, slightly bowed her head to the professor to thank her and continued with the announcement.

"As you all know, the island is built by man and so is the university you lots are attending at. Now, the reason I have brought everyone here is to announce to each student that tonight, when that clock strikes at 8 in the evening, every student will partake in a special exam that will be held outside of the school premises. The special exam will happen tonight at 8. Don't worry, don't worry. Just for tonight, curfew is lifted, and no one will be penalized for being outside in curfew hours."

The special exam aroused questions inside our minds. Why would they conduct a special exam at night when it can be done during class hours? What is this special exam all about? That is just two of the questions we all asked ourselves and tried to come up with a definitive answer to.

It sure is strange, but for some students, the idea of a special exam in the middle of the night was nothing but exciting. I saw some students form a thrilling smile on their faces like they were actually looking forward to it.

Were they expecting an announcement like this one? An announcement of a special exam? Or am I imagining things again as I always do? It may have become a habit of mine, overthinking things, that is.

"Each section, course, will be emailed later. The email will say where each section should go and the email will further explain the content of the special exam. But let me give you students a piece of information about the exam. It will be hella bloody!"

Her eyes were bloodshot, scared the shit out of me and some other students, caught us off-guard, and spooked us. Eventually, she laughed as if she had delivered it as a joke, but the principal never claimed it as a joke, which planted some strange fright in me that seemed to turn my stomach upside down.

Am I perceiving people's expressions differently because, in my mind, Mrs. Deborah's bloodshot eyes and grinning expression gradually twisted into a more horrific expression?

That was the end of our principal's announcement. What came next was the face-to-face introduction of all the 20 professors standing behind Mrs. Deborah. And at that time, all I had in my mind was the worsening image of our principal wickedly laughing at the sight of me, dead and bathing in my own pool of blood.

"I think it is high time I stop watching horror/psychological stories. My mind is becoming a mess, coming up with all the absurd death ideas of me and those people around me."

For a minute, I closed my eyes and did my best to clear my head off such thoughts to calm myself down and ease my corrupted mind.

The tightening feeling inside my chest had been going on for a while now, ever since the announcement of a special exam. I felt uneasy, somewhat doubtful of the upcoming special exam after school.

Hours passed by, but the tightening on my chest never eased. It has only gotten worse like a hole was being drilled into my heart.

I was sweating heavily, enough for Ira to notice.

Ira, upon noticing that something was wrong with me, he left his seat and excused himself to Ms. Cristina. And sat beside me.

"Hey, Clause, something the matter?"

As he sat down, Ira offered his still cold bottles of water. His face came closer, observing if I was sick or anything, for he put his hands on my neck and forehead. It is to check if I have fever since I was sweating a lot.

"Just feeling restless, I guess? I don't know."

A part of me was saying that it was because of the sudden announcement of a special exam, but the rest says it was something even more. Something that needs a lot of attention and needs to be looked at.

"Clause, you look pale."

Even Ms. Cristina noticed I was different than usual, thus asking, "did you eat breakfast? Perhaps you overdid yourself this morning."

Her words sounded as though there were still more she wanted to say, but she just kept her words short and what was necessary to be said.

The two of them did not want to distract the whole class, so they had their tone low.

Since my throat felt dry, I took Ira's offer and drank some water. Who knows, it might wash down the uneasiness I have. But unfortunately, it did not.

"You should go to the nurse's room, Esecleus. You don't look so good right now."

Currently, our professor, Prof Denise, was lazily explaining the contents of the book he brought with him. The title of the book was Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell.

"This book right here is a masterpiece. I won't argue with—"

Seeing that my condition had just gotten worse, Ms. Cristina raised her

hand, catching Prof Denise's attention.

"What is it, Ms. Andres?"

Prof Denise likes to address us by our surnames, whereas most of our professor addresses us using our first name. Some of them were even buddy-buddy with my classmates. Well, some professors are strict, and some professors like to take teaching naturally, bonding with students during class, and even doing some games for students to participate in.

"Esecleus here isn't feeling so well."

"Hmm, if you are not feeling well, just say so. Don't keep it to yourself because what if something bad happens to you while it's still school hour? Whoever is in charge, your teacher at the time, will be deemed partly liable if something bad happens to you, students. Now go, someone comes with Mr. Villin to the infirmary."

We understood why Prof Denise raised his voice to us. He will be partly at fault if someone gets hurt or something bad occurs. It is his responsibility to keep every student inside their classroom and to keep an eye on them during his class hours.

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