Ever since the shooting, I’ve been a ticking time bomb. Except I’ve exploded many times.

Walking through the halls was my escape from the stress of my classes, listening to people tap their pens or feet to the ground, or the dreadful ticking of the clock. Especially when I could hear somebody chewing their gum with their mouth open.

I made my way to my locker, weaving through people effortlessly. At least, what I thought was effortlessly. My body fell back from the abrupt shove of somebody’s shoulder, my textbook and binder flying through the air, about 15 loose papers departing from my binder as well.

I heard a few stifled laughs, people in the hall stopping to walk around me. How could they be so heartless?

Their laughs fueled my rage, tears pricking my eyes from the immense emotion. A shaky breath left me as I did my best to collect the sheets through my blurred vision. Suddenly, my hand came in contact with another’s and I looked up to see a girl helping to gather my papers.