41. Ahmina
AHMINA
“Second assessments are approaching.” Professor Barrow rounded his desk to stand in front of Ahmina. He had asked her to come early to Trivium to discuss her grades. Now, they stood alone in the classroom. Ahmina’s head pounded. “You know the rule.”
She did.
Students were required to pass two out of three assessments to proceed to the next year.
If not, they would be expelled—and in Ahmina’s case, homeless.
Not even Anastasia would take her back. Jobs would be sparse, if there were any opportunities at all.
No one would want to hire her: an Academy disgrace.
“I’ve been donating my free time to train you, Ahmina—to help you improve in Combat, to prepare you for your assessments—and still, you fail me.” The way he said it made her feel like a charity case.
“I know,” Ahmina said blankly. A sense of numbness had crept through her, as if she were no longer fully present in her body when close to him. Except for the relentless pounding in her head. She rubbed her temple.
Barrow furrowed his brow. “If you don’t pass your assessments, you will be a disgrace to the Academy, and not just that, to the Jarrian people. You know that, right?”
A sour feeling brewed inside of her. “I’ve been trying, studying, and I…
” She had barely slept in weeks, opting for additional hours studying and training.
Her muscles ached from overuse, and she woke up chanting the previous day’s memorizations in her mind.
She could barely eat, and it showed in her thinning frame.
Nausea had become such a familiar friend that she had to force food down.
And after what happened during the sparring session with Lennox, Ahmina felt an intense sense of dread every time a meeting with Barrow loomed.
But what could she do? As her Trivium professor, he held her fate in his hands. She had to endure.
He wanted more than just her fate in his hands, but she tried not to think about that.
Rory had seen hints of his special treatment and expressed her concerns.
But every time she brought it up, Ahmina changed the subject.
She couldn’t bring herself to admit to her best friend that she’d somehow ended up in a sick power dynamic with her professor.
It was only temporary, she told herself. If she could keep Barrow happy long enough to pass, she would be okay. The pressure in her skull increased at the thought of it, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“However,” he continued, “if you commit to a daily extra credit with me until your final assessment, I’m confident we can get you caught up.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Her words came out robotic and scratchy.
“A little more alone time together wouldn’t be too disruptive, would it?” He was suddenly so friendly, which made her uneasy, like she didn’t know what to expect from him at any given moment. “Disruptive to your school timetable, I mean.”
“I’ll do whatever I need to do to pass,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“Whatever you need to do… I see.” He glanced at her mouth, making her skin crawl. A little voice inside was screaming, but it was so far away she could barely hear it. She pushed it further. She would do anything, anything to graduate and become a Defender.
Barrow represented everything she hated about the Jarrian class system.
Those with power dominated over those who didn’t.
If you were lower class, as she had been, you were forced into positions you didn’t want to be in just to survive.
The whole reason she had set her sights on being a Defender was because she wanted out.
And here she was, trapped in the same cycle she had worked desperately to escape. Sinking further and further as if in quicksand.
As students started to pour into class, Ahmina zoned out, her eyes fixated on the single glass window on the wall to her right.
Two scenarios played out in her mind. In one, she imagined herself breaking through it and falling haphazardly down to the ground, leaving her body in a broken heap below.
In the other, she hung onto Barrow, taking him down with her, finally at peace as his skull cracked beside hers.