The Cursed One

Listless eyes stared blankly into space as Whitney sat in her seat, waiting for the lesson to end. The words of the lecturer had long been reduced to a mere buzzing sound, along with the background noise in the class. She had nothing against the teacher of course, the man being one of the few normal professors whose classes she found somewhat interesting at the least.

So, no, she did not hate the class. There were simply more important things to think about at the moment.

Her eyes drifted down to her wrist covered in the soft cream material of her long sleeved shirt. Her other hand came up and slowly moved the sleeve back, revealing the cause of all her worries. There was only one circle left in the rope encirclement. A good quarter of the white symbol was already gone, seeing as she had already spent some hours of her last day in classes.