Here's a brief passage that will let you get to know my character a little better:
II
Cillian walked down the cold utilitarian hallway to the staircase that led down to the coolers. He descended the stairwell and went down another hall and turned a corner. There before him was the classroom, its double doors open and waiting to swallow him up. In the silence his heartbeat was loud as thunder. Cillian took a deep breath, clenched his fingers tight and walked through.
Instead of being in the Anatomy classroom, he found himself in a very different one. A classroom that he had not seen since his freshman year in college. It was built like an auditorium with bleacher style seats. They were occupied by people that Cillian had long since forgotten.
He saw himself sitting there in the second row, a gangly scarecrow with a mop of black hair and hazel eyes behind a pair of half-bent glasses. He hadn’t changed much since then, he realized. Cillian was still that scarecrow, albeit a bit taller and without the glasses.
Standing before the students was a tall woman that always looked quite homely. She wore no makeup and her graying hair was pulled back in a tight bun. All in all not the most pleasant professor to spend an hour and fifty minutes looking at.
Her eyes had a steely predatory glint as she looked over the prospective Biology majors. Sizing them up like a lion before the kill. It made Cillian want to drive his nails into the sockets and pluck the wretched things out.
“How many of you are thinking about medical school?”
Hands rose, including Cillian’s. The woman nodded.
“It’s a long road, let me tell you. Most won’t accept anything less than a 3.5 average…” she started discussing other non-medical school related things such as where certain offices were on campus. Then she looked straight into Cillian’s eyes.
He flinched and took a step back. “One screw up and there goes your entire life, right down the drain. All it takes is one bad grade, Drake.” She uttered huskily. “One bad grade.”
The professor stepped over to the podium and picked up a manila folder. She nonchalantly flipped it open and withdrew a few papers and begins riffling through them, making tsk-tsk sounds as she went.
“Look at this—a D on your first Biology exam.” The professor waggled the paper before Cillian’s face. “And it only gets harder from here on out.” She threw the test away and plucked out another. “An “F” on your second Chemistry exam.” She shook her head, tsking. “You’re flunking without even trying, Drake.”
It was true that Drake had spent a week preparing for that Chemistry exam. But when the paper was placed before him, all the knowledge and formulas he had learned were gone quicker than they came.
“In short,” the professor said in a matter of fact manner, “You have no future, Drake.” She began furiously ripping up the papers and let the shreds fly everywhere like confetti. An ugly leer stretched across her face. “No future. Go back home, mister valedictorian of the senior class.” She sneered. The woman leaned forward so that she was face to face with Cillian. “Did you earn the title, or did daddy buy it for you?” the professor asked in a bubbly voice.
Cillian lost himself. He let out a mad cry and threw himself at the loathsome professor. She hit the ground and he bounced back up, kicking her viciously. He heard something crack. It only fueled his anger. Long after her cries grew weak Cillian’s rapid kicks started coming slower and slower until they stopped. He was a mess. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes.
No future.
What had he done?
Cillian’s quiet contemplation was interrupted by a loud snap! and a stomach-turning combination of wet crunching and popping . The professor’s head had turned a full circuit like the little girl’s in The Exorcist. Those eyes had gone sickly yellow and her pupils turned to slits like a cat’s.
“No future for you, Cillian Drake!”
III
Cillian bolted upright in bed throwing the covers off. He ran a hand over his cold face and through his sweaty hair. The dream made no sense whatsoever. Sure the professor had pretty much told them that if they didn’t maintain the 3.5 average they could kiss medical school goodbye.
But Cillian had held onto his dream. The professor’s little speech had certainly cut down the class size, but that was her job wasn’t it? And his thoughts…gouge out that *****’s eyes…his thoughts were what frightened him the most.
Don’t forget you almost killed her.
Christ, what was that all about? Why had he done that? Could he have really killed her?
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Disturbing enough for ya?
---Morzan
t:
.....they need to educate themselves
Also, the island wouldn't happen to be Avalon, would it?
