Sepharielle's POV
Another day, another blood-bathed fight with major subjects. It was a normal morning, yet always tainted with a sour twist—a hectic schedule of quizzes and tests.
Never in my life did I imagine experiencing this kind of feeling: even early in the morning, I already wanted to explode. Tuesdays were the worst—every single minute felt like a fight for survival. To anyone else, it might look like a normal classroom, but to me, it was a vast battlefield.
Last night, I slept only two hours, memorizing and digesting every single detail of the PowerPoint presentations. Biochemistry would literally slap me if I came unequipped. I whined endlessly—every millisecond—but still, I studied.
My eye bags were etched across my pale, tired face. I looked like a walking corpse. As usual, I arrived early at school, both to scan my notes one more time and to grab breakfast. My dorm was nearby, but being the ambitious type, I always made it a point to arrive first. Even when sleep abandoned me, I still got up early to prepare everything.
Morning classes were minor; they didn't demand much energy. But the afternoon… my battery was already draining before it even started. Anxiety built in my sweaty palms, pulsating chest, and cold sweats.
"Come on, I studied this. Let's break a leg," I muttered, trying to convince myself as I walked toward the classroom. The instructor's glare promised nothing but challenge, and I braced myself for the battlefield ahead.