…administered randomly and ONLY during the Thursday evening review sessions…
…no make-ups for missed quizzes…
A hot, metallic taste fills my mouth. Not a suggestion. Not an invitation. It’s a summons, a leash, wrapped in the silk ribbon of academic policy.
He anticipated this. West knew I would refuse, and he already had his countermove prepared. He hasn’t just set a trap; he’s backed it with the full authority of the university. I can’t fight it. I can’t report it.Who do I complain to?A TA is implementing quizzes to encourage engagement. He’s a model academic. He’s a monster.
Five percent. It sounds like nothing but to me, it’s everything. It’s the difference between an A and an A-minus. A permanent black mark on a perfect transcript. A flaw, and he knows it. He knows a perfectionist like me would rather walk through fire than accept a deliberate, avoidable imperfection on my record.
My brief moment of triumph curdles into a cold dread that coils in my gut, a sickening drop from the hypomanic high I was just experiencing. I thought we were playing chess, but he just flipped the board over and announced that he owns the whole damn game. The torrent of internal thoughts becomes a chaotic roar, making it impossible to think clearly, to find a foothold. I feel flayed open, exposed.
I stare at the screen, at the final, taunting line.I recommend you attend.
My hands curl into fists on my desk. He isn’t just trying to get me in a room, he’s trying to break me. He’s systematically taking every piece of control I have and crushing it under his thumb. My privacy, my academics, my schedule. He’s colonizing my life, piece by piece. The feeling of powerlessness is overwhelming, threatening to tip me into a dark, suffocating wave of despair.
Fine.
If he wants me in that room, he’ll have me.
But I won’t be there as a student. I won’t be there to be intimidated.
I’ll be there to study him.
The thought sparks a flicker of that familiar defiant energy, a desperate grab for control.
He thinks he’s the predator, watching me from the shadows. He’s about to find out what it feels like to be watched back. I will learn his tells, his tactics, the way he breathes and thinks. I will find a weakness, a crack in his perfect facade.
I grab my phone and text Chloe.
Me:
West is my new TA for Chem 102.
He just made 5% of our Chem grade dependent on quizzes you can only take at his review sessions.
Her reply is almost instantaneous.
Chloe:
You have got to be kidding me. That’s not a choke chain.
Me:
The first session is on Thursday.
Chloe:
What are you going to do?
I look at the announcement on my screen, at the digital cage he has so perfectly constructed. A cold, stern resolve settles over me, pushing back the fear, a snap-back, a desperate grab for control.
Me:
I’m going.
Seven
Kinsley
