Well, they’d answered all the questions. The flimsy plastic clock ticking overhead had heard their mind tell it that almost a thousand times, as they watched the seconds, slower than seconds ought to have been, pass by. Whoever had sat in front of them was asleep - whoever was behind them was still scribbling relentlessly, as they had been for most of the - how long were they meant to sit here, in silence?

It didn’t truly matter. None of this did. It wasn’t a GCSE, not a real one. Practices were pointless. The pressure was gone, so they’d either underperform because they knew, in the back of their mind, that there was no real reason to put effort in, or they’d fail because they knew nothing about what they’d just written and had bullshitted the entire thing because there was no point in revising for a fake GCSE when they could spend that valuable time sleeping, or staring at the ceiling with their eyes closed pretending to sleep. Either was a better waste of hours than staring blankly at a textbook, wishing they were doing anything else in the world.

Someone yawned - it might’ve been the person in front of them, but the sound wasn’t muffled, as it would be if it came from them, with their head still on the desk, arms in front, so they assumed it wasn’t. They wanted to sleep, but they also didn’t want to be poked by the passing teachers, circling like hawks, diving in on their prey every so often. Stupid. It was so stupid. If the kids wanted to flunk their exams, they should’ve been allowed to. If they wanted to fail, or couldn’t be bothered to put effort in and achieve, then why prod them to do what they wouldn’t do in a real exam? It was all…

pointless. It was all very pointless.

“Please put down your pens; the exam has finished.”

And now, this exercise in futility was at its end. Whoever was in front of them didn’t move. Whoever was behind finally stopped making that irritating scratching sound with their pen, and instead started mumbling something which might’ve been a prayer. They would’ve laughed, but that would've drawn attention to them, and attention was the last thing they wanted in a near-silent exam hall. Everyone was still so quiet. They dared to look around a little, surveying the ashen faces which they barely recognised from their classes. Everyone… it was like they’d taken it seriously. Like they really thought all of this mattered. Couldn’t they see it was all a farce to scare them into studying? Couldn’t they see past the paper smiles of their teachers, gleefully throwing them in at the deep-end so that they would beg to be taught to swim? Couldn’t they see?

No. They were blind. In all their fear, they had blinded themselves, so that they became even more fearful, and unable to function. All of them were twisting and turning so gracefully as they fell into the trap set by those with power over them, closing their eyes so that the inconvenience of blindfolding them wasn’t put upon those who wished to ruin them for their own stupid power trips. They would beg to be saved, after this. They would fall upon the mercy of those who set them up for failure, unknowing but willing to be led to the slaughter, just because they didn’t know any better. Their entire lives were leading up to this, and depended on this. It was a shame they couldn’t see it: it was, if not beautiful, rather poetic.