"Get out!" Professor Bolu's booming voice jolts me back to reality.
Even through the tears that's pooled at my eyes, I can see that the board is still blank. At least, there are no new writings from my marker.
With steps, leaden with shame, I turn and start to lumber out of the class, head hung low.
"Your name and Matric number." Professor Bolu stops me. "And my marker."
I blink back my tears, gulp down my shame and the lump in my throat, but only manage to croak out, "Jihad Omonikara Abdul-Kareem. MC16003."
Extracted from my story, JIHAD, on Wattpad.
Click the link below to show your support by reading, voting and dropping as much comments as your hand can take.