(Flashback now)
She was sitting in class, instead of sitting there, she wasn't sitting there. Instead she was sitting at the front of the class making everyone else feel sick, she was seeing things instead of the teacher. She couldn't take her eyes off the tiny window in the room, focused on nothing else. She wasn't looking at the teacher or the chalkboard, she wasn't even looking at her book for writing her paper. She had disassociative episodes her father had called them. She was 18 years old and this was her second episode.
An episode was different to her. It was just a shorter time that she spends daydreaming. It was of no particular length of time, more of an attention span of the person she had just met. Then she was inevitably snapped out of it with the teacher saying something, something she didn't register at all. Every time she was snapped out of it, she would be punished. Being punished was the worst thing that could happen in her day. Nothing positive could happen in her school. She hated school.
Her episode this time around had in fact ended with the teacher in front of her in the class.
"Robyn? Are you even in this class with us?" asked the teacher.
Robyn was interrupted and starred blankly at her. She didn't respond.
The teacher looked her up and down confused. Robyn was marked by many as 'proper' looking, short shapeless skirts, jackets and curly black hair. She had her typical dark blue school blazer, tied at the waist with a large white ribbon. Her hands were covered in blue and white bandages and her face had two lines, one for each eyebrow that went down into her eye and dead ended. Her eyes were a light blue and the pupil was a small black dot and the cornea and sclera was a dark blue. It was a light blue with a black dot left in the middle of it. Her favourite eye colour, she was bullied for it all the time. She just hoped she would be able to have animals of her own soon, it would be good to have pets of her own. She was the only one in her family with blue eyes, which was very strange.
"Are you even paying attention?" came the teacher again.
Robyn still had no response.
A sharp tap on her hand made her jump. It was the teacher. She stood up so fast she nearly fell over. Robyn's face was red, she had not associated pain with him, but she had not heard him either. It had been terribly quiet in the room. She had not heard him. Focusing only on the teacher. He stared at her, making her terrified.
"Are you listening?" he asked.
Robyn felt the teacher's eyes watching her. He wasn't looking her back in the eyes. Robyn had the impression that he was reading something written by her somewhere, but she had no idea on what that was on.
"No, I'm not listening," she replied.
"Why not?" he asked, he seemed to be annoyed and surprised at the same time.
"Because I'm not interested in listening to you," Robyn snapped back.
Robyn had no idea if she was right or not. Her words stung the teacher. He had tried to teach this class many times before and Robyn had always been there. She was almost always there. Always listening. She supposed her father had more of his attention, as she had more of his attention, than anyone else in the family. That was how he had explained her weird behaviour. Robyn's dad was severely psychologically disturbed and she had no idea why, but she became more fascinated with psychology. When she was in high school, she would talk to the teacher in the hallway, just about anything though. She would question her. He would answer.
