Drowned: A Short Story

Have you ever felt so guilty, that you just don't know how you will recover? It feels like you can't breathe; as if you're being drowned. The water clogging your lungs, shutting all the possible airways in your body, until one day, all that water just takes over your body and it feels like you sink.

Your mind is racing every second of the day, and you can't focus on one thing without wondering about something else. You feel completely broken, demolished, as if it's all your fault. And it might even be all your fault.

I stood in my tippy toes in front of my locker, my chin raised up, trying to see the order my books were in. Though, that was a bit difficult, due to my five-foot-nothing.

"Hey, Cal."

I turn my head, than go back to my locker,

Quinn, try to settle the class down. She clearly wasn't making any progress, since the class kept chatting with their friends like everyone always does. Henry was the only person that I could tolerate (and that could tolerate me, per se) and since he was in another class, I was all alone.

Mrs. Quinn was a tall lady with a long neck and a thin face. She had a bony structure, and lips so thin they were practically invisible (and the fact that she pressed them together so often didn't help). She had hair in a curly bob style, as if her haircut got stuck in the 1930s, and her clothes were there, too. She always wore pattern dresses, sometimes a matching scarf, and old stockings with holes in them, showing off her pale legs.

After what seemed like hours of our frail teacher trying to manage the class, she let out a high pitched yelp that surely grasped everyone's attention. The poor lady's face flushed pink when she noticed all eyes were on her, finally. She cleared her throat, and began walking around the class.

"Clearly," She sang, her hands behind her back in a sergeant way, "I can't trust this class enough to pick your own project partners, so I must pick them myself. And change seats." She emphasized the word

Most of my fellow classmates were spoiled kids who didn't have to work for anything in life, and got anything they wanted on a silver platter. That's most likely why I struggled to get along with people, I actually worked hard to get where I am now.

Henry understood. He was one of the smartest kids in the grade, and he worked hard for that. Sure, he could come off as a teacher's pet sometimes, but the fact that he was a straight A student negated that thought. He was every teacher's dream student; polite, smart... The only flaw that came with him is that he was always late, to everything. But the teachers didn't seem to care, since his grades made up for that.

Mrs. Quinn took the attendance list and began reading out names, loud and clear. "Kristina Burton and Erick Liebbs, Jack Baldwin and Yuri Nakamura..."

I listened precisely until my name was finally called. "Callie Hunter," Mrs. Quinn paused, reading the list, finding a suitable person, "and Olivia