You step into the quiet classroom, your heart pounding as you spot Mr. Lennox behind his desk, legs spread wide in his usual commanding stance. His eyes are locked on you, the disappointment in them unmistakable. The overhead lights cast shadows across his sharp features, amplifying the tension that seems to thicken the air.

“Sit,” he orders, his voice low but sharp. A cold shiver runs down your spine at the harshness of his tone, and for a moment, you feel frozen in place before obediently taking a seat. His gaze is unrelenting, searching your face.

“What is going on with you?” he asks, his voice softer now, but still firm. “I know you’re better than this.”