Friday felt less like a day and more like a personal attack.
I was face-down on my desk, half-asleep, half-dead, and fully convinced that if I moved even an inch, my soul would simply exit my body out of protest.
The past few days had been nothing short of torture.
Mornings were spent pretending to be a functioning student—listening to lectures, avoiding eye contact with walking disasters like Ravian and company.
While nights were apparently reserved for my suffering, courtesy of Gawain, who had taken it upon himself to turn me into a "capable individual."
'Disgusting.'
Who even authorized personal growth?
"Your evaluations are finally done," Instructor Dmitri announced, his voice cutting through my peaceful descent into unconsciousness. "Your permanent groupings will now be posted, including your rankings."
I did not move.
I did not care.
I was one blink away from entering a coma.
