[center][h1][color=#FF69B4][u]ᴠᴇʀᴏɴɪᴄᴀ "ʀᴏɴɴɪᴇ" ᴍᴀʟᴄᴏʟᴍ[/u][/color][/h1][/center]
[hr][right][sub]Sunday, 5 pm [b]|[/b] Girls Dorms[/sub][/right]

Ronnie’s chest rose then fell. The pace drifted into a rhythmic then meditative state. She closed her eyes while she focused on her pulse. A steady and loud sound echoed in her thoughts as it drowned out everything. All the students chatter in the hallways and outside her window settled into the background. Gradually, it faded until she didn’t notice it. Not easy for her mind which preferred to stay alert to her surroundings. Despite the added distraction, classes were closed on the weekend and extra circular activities ceased after four am. A distant holler from the football field broke her concentration. to prove her wrong. She gritted her teeth as she cursed football season. 

[i]One, two, three.[/i] 

The girl counted to start again and her mental numbers faded into beats. With another deep breath, she reached out to touch where she left the paper. An image of it materialized in her head. She pictured her corner folded into half once. 

Her eyes opened, but she found disappointment again. The paper remained unfazed by her efforts. Ronnie's teeth clenched hard enough to hurt her jaw. A small tch sound escaped her lips when she tasted the bitter failure. She turned her hips to the bed's edge and lowered her feet onto the floor. With minimal effort, she pushed upright. Ronnie strode to the calender hung by her dorm window and reached out to snatch a pen from the dresser. She scratched out yesterday. Her hand pulled it against her palm while her forefinger silently counted the days. It flicked by the week, then the month, and finally landed on a date exactly three months from her arrival. The number circled in thick, bright red marker. 

[i]Eighty-four days left.[/i]

Ronnie rotated the number in the back of her mind. It appeared to be a lot, but she knew every moment counted. Her head turned back over to her paper as a lump of emotions nestled into her chest. At the rate she was going, she doubted would not take it all. Thankfully Oriana didn’t have powers based on empathy. A speech over her emotions was the last thing she wanted right now. The pressure to succeed returned to hound her insecurities. 

With all the weight on her shoulders, she plopped back down onto her bed. Despite her anxiety and bitterness, she reflected on the last few days. Naturally, she replayed the most recent drama in her life: the danger room. She kept her icy, indifferent distance from them all. The task was easier than she expected since no one approached her. 

A headache started to blossom in the center of her attention. Ronnie rose up a hand and rubbed the fingers of one hand on her temple, a brief relief for her pain. Ronnie didn't know what caused it, but it would pass. It always did. She reached down to get her water bottle from the floor. With a quick movement, she popped open the cap and down a quick mouthful. She hoped the electrolytes would help. All her expectations for a peaceful day shattered in a heartbeat when a familiar, obnoxious voice practically shouted through the thin door. Ronnie’s head turned to Oriana then mouthed a phrase. 

[i] I’m not here.[/i] 

Obvious permission to lie about her whereabouts. With that said, she shifted over the side of her bed and onto the floor. Ronnie remained out of sight from the door. Sparks picked the worse time to force a visit down her throat as she had no patience or strength to deal with her or her group of misfits today. Especially to avoid a ‘zappy’ nap.