Abbie bursts through the double doors, his paper-thin feet slapping against the hallway's cold tiled floor. He slams his shoulder against the door, holding it closed with all the strength his frail form can muster.

But then, Mrs. Circle—swift and relentless—smashes through the door with her gleaming compass, sending him sprawling to the floor. A crumpled paper clenched in her iron grip, her arm raised with the cold precision of a predator.

The door hits the ground with a resounding THUMP, echoing down the empty hall.

Trapped, Abbie stumbles backward into a dead-end, his paper face twisted in sheer terror as Mrs. Circle advances.

"Bad grades," she sneers, her voice like a cold wind, "gives students bad consequences."

With a swift motion, she tears the failed paper in half, her compass gleaming in the dim light, ready to strike.