For the first time since André had assumed this new identity of the perfect prick, he felt like something was just beyond unfair. And what’s even worse was the fact that he was affected by it, when normally it just doesn’t.
He stared out into the darkness, feeling like the four corners of that small room was closing in on him. The first few steps he had taken into that room everyone now had painstakingly called ‘the dungeon’, the faint, dank smell of rotting books and garbage immediately hurt his nose. The room was completely pitch black, almost as if the walls itself were the darkest of dark there is. André had never been to this place before, but he definitely wouldn’t go and visit it again.
The Headmistress personally liked calling it her very own version of a ‘timeout corner’, except
