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“How did you live your whole life ‘til now being so inept at basic algebra?!” I feel his cold glare at the back of my head.
“Again. Until we cure this malady that is your incompetence.” His tone is loud and aggressive, bouncing off the walls in the empty storage unit, but my brain instead focused on the tremors his deep voice sends down my spine.
“Can’t you hear me?” I feel a hand grip the back of my neck, making me gasp out an airy, breathy whine, the chalk on my fingers breaking in half as I try to stay upright.
“Perhaps I underestimated you. It seems you’ve a more disgusting problem than dullness, you vile thing.”
I feel his hand ghost over the front of my throat as a warm weight hovers over my back. His other hand plants itself by my face, fingertips digging into the hastily written numbers on the chalkboard. His warm breath in my ear, making my vision spin.
“Is your inability to perform properly during my lecture a result of incompetence, pressure, or,” he whispers, lips nearly grazing my cheek. “Perhaps depravity?”