endless patterns, four choices, 15 different ways to fuck up.

the seat is cold

I hear the constant tapping of

Lead pencils from my peers. Papers turning like crashing waves;

the clock ticking, my heart

begins to Match the rhythm;

slow and steady, the palms of my hands creating small pools of sweat.

slippery skin unable to grasp what is asked of me. I begin to slip deep into my mind,

The room is full of anxious souls, stiff and eager. My brain feels cloudy of images of the days prior, unable to unravel exam information from the hatred that stirs in my body. The images of her fill my head with something dark.

As I look at the test the words have formed another fated question

Do you let her overdose?

A. Yes

B. No