The Holy window from Hell pt.

Appreciating my Chemistry exam that I had just finished over a course of sweating, crying and
cursing myself for being so foolish. Here I was, near my precious window seat that I had worked
so hard for by sacrificing 2 hours of sweet dreams.

The view was not all that fancy but at least the cool air kept drying my fresh tears of failure and
disappointment. Not to add salt to the wound but the choice was indecisive. Stating that I was
dying, would not be an understatement, though not that I had not died before the exams started.
Previously on 'Whiny kiddo gets killed,' Sir Noshad assassinated my self esteem by slamming
the exam schedule on my desk with a bang and a smirk that made my spine shiver. But that is an
absolutely different story for an absolutely different time. Coming back to my holy seat, which
in fact is something beyond human comprehension, I saw a child perhaps in his sixth year of
existence. My tears kept drying as I kept staring at the child's mere bony structure. Black hair,
brown skin, and a mushroom haircut from the late 90s, it was all too clichè yet I had nothing
better to do other than to glare at his annoying haircut and wonder why his parents did him so
dirty.

I shall judge the book by its cover and inform you that the kiddo appeared dumb to my two
functioning brain cells, plus, the kid obviously was not an equivalent to a book so do not come
at me. I must act grateful and admit that the kid was at least a source of entertainment and a
distraction from the moorse code I very confidently printed on my answer sheets. I glanced
around and found a miserable girl about my age and apparently with the exact same number of
brain cells, knock an open ink pot on her white uniform. Well, that was fun.

She cursed her brain cells and I returned to my smug aura, whilst gently tapping my head in
hopes of letting my own pair of brain cells know that I highly acknowledge their existence.
Turing back to the dumb kid whom I named Gangsta Swag. I should seriously stop with the dark
humour already but is not that what I am here for?
Gangsta was now throwing rocks at the ongoing vehicles, which in fact, is an asshole move. As
he kept proving himself as an excuse of a human, I kept eyeing the ugly clock at the ceiling that
was so evidently donated by some student back in the 90s. It said 11:24 AM which promptly
meant that my escape from this hell hole would commerce soon.

Handling my crappy exam to the invigilator, I heard the bell ring.

Just as I came to the conclusion that I would at least obtain the marks enough for me to get
promoted, my eyes subconsciously sped towards the window, through which I saw Gangsta get
his ass whopped by some man in a beard just seemingly bizzare to Hiroshima's haircut.

My lips curved inside my mask that I had worn to protect myself from the demon,
You-know-who, as my feet made their way down the aisle of seats. It felt as if I had won the
world, satisfaction. My hatred for little children grew stronger and I could feel my inner Satan
laughing.