DESIRÉE DOYLE
Half the class had engaged themselves in something else that wasn't listening to the professor by the projector. It was as though he was ranting non-stop.
A few minutes ago, before I got immersed in what I was doing, I had overheard two students flirting behind me and it was so cringe.
It made my skin crawl with disgust.
The murmurings that lingered in the air, coupled with the aggressive taps of fingers against the keyboard were very distracting and I found the sound upsetting because it kept invading my thoughts, diverting my attention elsewhere.
I propped my jaw on my elbow, navigating my cursor on the news site I was currently in. As I scrolled past each paragraph, I could feel my heart being ripped to shreds, clenching in pain at the sight of the dead girl, whose p
