[center][h3][color=cyan]γ€Žπ•Šπ•’π•Ÿπ••π•–π•£γ€[/color][/h3][/center] [center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/28hztyw.png[/img][/center] [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center] [hr][center][color=silver]π•Šπ•–π•‘π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / π•Œπ•Šπ”Έβ„π•€π•ƒβ„• 𝔼𝕒𝕀π•₯ / / 𝕃𝕖𝕔π•₯𝕦𝕣𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕝𝕝 β„€: β„π• π• π•ž πŸšπŸ› / / πŸ™πŸ›πŸ˜πŸ[/color][/center][hr] This was ridiculous. Sander leaned back, dread slowly settled in the pit of his stomach, as he processed the information. It happened all so fast. First it was the white-haired stranger in the hall with confusing words and a punch that were more rage than malice, then now this 'game'. It was the Facility all over again. [i]”[color=f7976a]Pay attention[/color]”, followed by a snap of fingers. The light was blinding. He cranked his head sideway, cold weight of the chains of his limbs, slick warmth of blood on his skin. β€œ[color=f7976a]Stay with me.[/color]”[/i] He blinked the unpleasant memory away, forcing his gaze back on the board, though he had no such luck with his trains of thoughts. Even after Fredric had been replaced by some sickly man who carried the not-so-pleasant scent of rotten fruit, his head was still churning, doubt and fear and frustration bled into a potent mixture. At this point, the line between his own thoughts and those elicited by the Stigma was getting blurred. Had any thoughts his own to begin with? [i]He had nothing. He was nothing. To think that he was more than his power. To hope that he could be. Simply ridiculous.[/i] He didn’t want to do this. Yet, at the same time, he did. It was a choice he couldn’t have made, and as pathetic as it was, parts of him was glad that choice had been taken away from him. Everything was better when they were mandatory right? That way, he could blame someone else for his own incompetence. Zhange was right. There was never a monster. He was just a wimp who needed his choices made for him. He hid behind the blood high, because that was all he had. He couldn't face life on his own. He sighed, burying his face in his hands, pressing cold fingers against his forehead. As if the simple gesture could push the sense back into his head. It didn’t work, but that was nothing new. The teacher droned on and on about subjects that was far beyond his understandings, so he decided to focus on something else. Anything at all, really, since he didn’t wish to drown any further in self-pity and regrets. The elective block form came to mind, so he grabbed the form and began reading through everything. There were 8 in total, all of them unremarkable to him. It had been nearly five years since, and he could hardly remember which electives he picked back then. Another quick look through the list, and Sander decided to pick P.E as his elective. Hopefully, they would let him use the track. As for the rest, he just numbered them in order from the top down, barely even stopped to think what the subject could possibly consist of. [hider=Electives] Art/Photography 2 Creative Writing 3 Woodworking 4 P.E. 1 Film Study 5 Music Theory 6 Home Ec 7 Computer Science 8 [/hider] With that done, he moved the sheet of paper to the edge of his desk, shoving it beneath the stack of paper and text books, content to just stared at his folded hard for the entirety of the lesson.