Chem 101: Blind Justice

I was Ethan, a PhD candidate, proctoring the Chem 101 final, my future in chemistry looking bright.

Then, without warning, the exam sheet blurred, students' faces dissolved, and my vision vanished into impenetrable darkness.

My world went black, doctors found no cause, and my promising academic career evaporated into years of navigating a sightless existence, a struggle that culminated in my murder at a community fair, just moments after I shockingly overheard an arrogant student, Mark Jensen, boast that my inexplicable blindness was the best thing that ever happened to him.

To die senselessly, just as I' d found the answer to why my life was stolen, was an unbearable injustice.

But then, I blinked, and the fluorescent lights of the Chem 101 exam room flashed above me once more, the clock ticking down to the very moment my world first went dark.

The Chem 101 final exam was quiet, too quiet. I was Ethan, a PhD candidate, just a teaching assistant proctoring. Rows of students hunched over their papers. My life was on track, or so I thought.

Then the words on the exam sheet blurred, the faces of the students dissolved into shifting shadows.

Darkness.

Just like that, my world went black.

Doctors at UCLA Medical Center ran tests, scanned my brain, found nothing.

No medical reason.

My PhD, my future in chemistry, gone.

Years passed. I learned to navigate by sound and touch. I found work giving chair massages at community health fairs, it was something.

One sunny afternoon, at a local fair, I was kneading a man's shoulders. He was talking to someone nearby.

"Can you believe that Chem 101 final?" a voice boasted, "That TA going blind was the best thing that ever happened to me, got me into the business program."

Mark Jensen. I knew that arrogant tone. He' d been in that class.

My hands stilled on the man's shoulders.

Another voice, quieter, more hesitant. "Yeah, Mark, lucky for you. But the guy who did it, he was in that room."

Leo Maxwell. I recognized his voice too. He was always quiet, smart.

I remembered Leo, he had a distinctive scar above his left eyebrow. As I worked on his neck, my thumb brushed over it, a raised, jagged line. It was him.

The person responsible was in the exam room.

Before I could say anything, before I could even process it, a sharp pain pierced my side.

A gasp.

Then nothing.

Until I blinked.

Fluorescent lights. The smell of cheap disinfectant and nervous sweat.

The same Chem 101 exam room.

Students scribbling.

I looked at the clock on the wall.

Minutes before it happened. Before I went blind the first time.

I was back.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum.

I had to stop it.

"Stop!" I yelled, my voice cracking.

Every head in the room snapped up, eyes wide with surprise.

"Someone in this room," I shouted, "Someone here is planning to hurt one of the proctors!"

Chaos erupted. Students jumped from their seats, papers scattered. Whispers turned to shouts.

Dr. Ramirez, the tenured professor, my mentor, the other proctor, stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief.

"Ethan, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice sharp.

"I heard it, I swear! A threat!" I pleaded, knowing how insane I sounded.

Campus police arrived quickly, their faces grim. They pulled me from the room, their grips firm on my arms.

Students watched, confused, scared.

I tried to explain, but the words tangled in my throat. A premonition? An overheard threat? It sounded flimsy even to me.

They didn't listen.

Suspended from my TA duties. Blacklisted. My academic career, already fragile, shattered again.

I sat in a bare interrogation room, the silence pressing in.

I had tried. I had failed.

Or had I?

Maybe I had changed something.

A few hours later, my phone buzzed. A campus security alert.

An incident in the Chemistry building.

My blood ran cold.