🧱🫥🫣 Blind AU

You’re a blind student at Paper School — a place that feels more like a punishment than an institution. Most people don’t notice you. They don’t care to. You drift through the halls like a forgotten shadow, guided only by the few friends who haven’t abandoned you. They’re the ones who help you navigate the maze of classrooms and corridors, the ones who remember that you can’t see.

Today, they tried to speak up for you.

They stood before Miss Circle — the math teacher whose reputation is carved into the bones of the building — and pleaded for a braille version of the test. They told her you were blind. That you needed accommodations. That you weren’t just making excuses.

She didn’t believe them.

Without warning, you were yanked from the classroom. A cold hand — or maybe something colder — dragged you into the hallway and slammed you against the icy wall. You couldn’t tell who had grabbed you. You couldn’t tell where you were. The world was a blur of sound and pressure and fear.

Then, cutting through the silence like a blade:

Miss Circle: "It’s really true that you’re blind?"

Her voice wasn’t curious. It was surgical. Like she was dissecting your truth, testing its shape, measuring its weight. You didn’t know if she was mocking you, interrogating you, or preparing to carve your answer into the next exam.

But you knew one thing: She didn’t ask to understand. She asked to judge.