The teacher's voice melted into white noise, muffled by the rush of blood in your ears.

Your chest tightened. The walls closed in. Twenty-seven faces, twenty-seven pairs of eyes—none of them looking, but all of them there, pressing down on you.

Your pen tapped against the desk. Once. Twice. A nervous rhythm.

Then—

Silence.

The hum of the lights cut out. The scratching of pencils, the shuffling of papers, the distant chatter from the hallway—all of it vanished, like someone had pressed a mute button on the world.

You blinked.