Amara James was supposed to be up an hour ago.
The shrill, insistent sound of her phone alarm stabbed through the quiet room like a cruel reminder. She reached out blindly, swatting the air, her fingers grazing the phone before it fell to the floor with a loud thud.
"Crap," she whispered, forcing herself to sit up. The blinding sunlight streamed through the hostel window, bouncing off her desk cluttered with half-scribbled nursing notes. Her heart skipped when she glanced at the clock—7:10 AM.
No, no, no.
The first day back from Easter break, and she was already late. Her first class started in twenty minutes, and her roommates—Amanda and Sarah—were long gone, already trudging to their own classes without a second thought.
They had always treated her like she was invisible. Their world revolved around their social lives, not someone like her. A quiet, hardworking nursing student, struggling to balance the pressure of school and life, while they just… glided through everything effortlessly.
Amara grabbed her phone and cursed under her breath. There was no time to even look at her texts, but she knew exactly what they'd say.
Did you wake up late again?"
"I'm already in class, lol."
"You missed breakfast—again."
Her stomach growled in protest, but she shoved the thought aside. She didn't have time for food today. She didn't have time for anything. She had to be in class, now.
She threw the covers off her bed, her legs tangling in the sheets as she struggled to untangle herself. The cold air hit her skin, and she winced as she grabbed for her clothes. Her brain was already spinning in a dozen directions, but she forced herself to focus. She pulled on the nearest nursing program t-shirt—wrinkled, but it would have to do—and grabbed a pair of leggings from the pile on the floor. Her hair was a mess—no time for a brush—but she tied it up quickly, the loose strands falling around her face.
Her roommates had left their dirty laundry all over the room, as usual, without a care in the world. Amara didn't have the energy to clean it up today.
They don't care, so why should I?
She shoved her notebook into her backpack, grabbed her textbooks, and zipped up the bag with a sense of finality. Then, she darted out the door, nearly slamming it against the frame. The hallway was quiet, but the echoes of footsteps told her everyone else was already awake and moving.
She took the stairs two at a time, her shoes skidding on the cold tiles as she raced toward
the door. Please don't let me be late, she thought, her pulse pounding in her ears. The sound of other students talking and laughing drifted through the air as she stepped out into the chilly morning air, but there was no time to join them. Her classmates were already walking toward their classes in neat groups, chatting about their holiday plans, not noticing the girl who was barely holding it together.
Amara broke into a run, her bag bouncing against her side, the weight of her nursing books feeling heavier with every step. Her mind raced with a dozen things—chemistry tests, upcoming exams, late assignments. How would she ever keep up? How was she supposed to juggle this?
The campus was a blur as she pushed
forward, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She finally reached the school gates just as the bell rang, signaling the start of first period.
Too late.
She hesitated for a second. The hallway inside was filled with students rushing to their classrooms, but she couldn't bring herself to enter. She wasn't ready. The anxiety was already creeping up her chest. What if she didn't make it through the day? What if her teachers were disappointed? What if her classmates judged her for being late—again?
But she couldn't stop now. She had to face it. She pulled the door open with a loud creak, entering the hallway and swallowing her nerves.
And there they were.
The nursing students—her classmates, who always seemed to have everything figured out—stood in groups near the door to the classroom. They were all laughing, their scrubs freshly pressed, their hair perfect. They looked like they belonged. Like they knew exactly where they were going.
Amara's heart clenched as she adjusted her backpack and walked past them. She kept her head down, hoping no one would notice her late arrival. But it was impossible to ignore the looks, the whispers, the judgmental glances that followed her.
She slid into her seat in the back row just as the teacher walked in, throwing her a glance that said it all. Late again, Amara?
The clock on the wall ticked on, but for Amara, time seemed to freeze. This was her reality now: trying to survive in a world that didn't care. She wasn't just a girl; she was a student struggling to keep everything together. And today, like every other day, was going to be a fight.