My Substitute Locked the Classroom Door While I Was Having an Allergic Reaction — Then She Said I Was Faking It

My English teacher once made us sign contracts for total silence in class, then gave me detention for whispering to help a kid having a panic attack while she graded papers.

So maybe I should have known adults at school could be that cruel.

I was in science class when I grabbed what I thought was my granola bar from my bag.

One bite in, I knew something was wrong.

The taste was peanut butter.

My friend’s protein bar must have gotten mixed up with mine when we studied together.

“I need the emergency EpiPen,” I gasped, already feeling my throat tighten. “I just ate peanuts.”

The substitute teacher looked up from her desk, where she was eating from her own bag of peanuts.

“Don’t be dramatic. Allergies are all in your head.”

“No, you don’t understand,” I said.

My tongue was already swelling. I’d left my EpiPen at home because I thought I’d be fine since every classroom had emergency ones.

“Please, the med cabinet.”

“Sit down.”

She stood up and walked over to the cabinet, but instead of opening it, she leaned against it.

“You know what my parents did when I claimed I was allergic to cats? They locked me in a room with three of them. By morning, I was cured.”

Katie jumped up and ran toward the cabinet.

“She’s not faking. She needs help now!”

The sub blocked her.

“The only thing killing her is her own mind.”

Then she did something I’ll never forget.

She walked to the door, turned the deadbolt, and pocketed the key.

“No one leaves until she admits she’s faking it.”

“This victim mentality is destroying your generation.”

“Call 911!” someone yelled, reaching for their phone.

“Phones in the box now!” the sub snapped, grabbing the collection box. “Or you’re all suspended.”

My throat felt like someone was tightening a belt around it.

Six minutes. That’s all I had before the swelling became irreversible. That was the number my doctor made me memorize.

That’s when my ex, Daniel, decided to chime in.

“She pulled the same drama last year.”

The sub smiled at him.

“See? Even he knows you’re faking.”

She walked back to my desk with her bag of peanuts.

“My parents proved allergies are psychological when I was five.”

Then she grabbed a handful and slowly, deliberately crushed them over my desk.

“Exposure therapy. This is for your own good.”

The dust fell everywhere.

Blood started dripping from my nose, and my lips were swelling fast.

Katie screamed, “Look at her!”

The sub shoved Katie back down.

“Psychosomatic reaction. She believes she’s dying, so her body mimics it.”

That’s when Tommy touched his neck.

I guess he was allergic too, because his eyes started swelling shut.

“I can’t see! I can’t see!”

Everyone lost it.

Kids dumped entire backpacks onto the floor, throwing everything everywhere.

“Does anyone have an EpiPen?”

Sarah was sobbing, using her shirt to wipe blood from my nose.

“Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”

Jack ran to the door and started pulling on it.

“Open this right now, please!”

The sub laughed.

“Sit down or you’re expelled.”

Jack kept yanking the handle, the whole frame rattling.

“Help! Somebody!”

Other kids joined him, pounding on the door with their fists.

Through the door window, Mr. Peterson from next door looked in.

For one second, I thought we were saved.

Then the sub stepped in front of the window, blocked his view, gave a thumbs up, and closed the blind.

He walked away.

“This is kidnapping!” Katie screamed.

Three minutes left.

Blood dripped from my nose onto my desk.

Tommy was clawing at his throat.

Lisa was in the corner vomiting from pure panic.

Two girls were huddled together crying, and some kids just sat frozen at their desks, unable to move.

The sub actually laughed.

“Oscar-worthy performance, though a bit over the top with the fake blood.”

My situationship, Jack, tried to give me mouth-to-mouth while I was still conscious and choking.

My ex, Daniel, tackled him to the ground.

“I know her better!”

“Yeah, that’s why you called her dramatic!” Jack shot back.

“Look at this, fighting over the attention seeker.”

The sub ate another peanut.

“This is exactly what she wanted.”

I could feel myself turning blue.

Foam bubbled at the corners of my mouth.

Katie smashed the med cabinet with a chair.

The sub grabbed her wrist.

“Destruction of property. That’s expulsion.”

“She’s dying!”

Mike tackled the sub from behind.

“You want to go to jail for assault? I’ll press charges on all of you!”

I got out of my chair and couldn’t even stand anymore.

The fire extinguisher on the wall was my only thought.

I literally had to crawl over on all fours just to get there.

The sub cackled.

“Look at her performance. Crawling for sympathy.”

My body didn’t feel like it was mine anymore.

One second I was getting ready to throw the fire extinguisher at the door, and the next I was covering my face to stop the glass from getting in my eyes.

Crash.

The sub spun around.

“Vandalism! You’re going to prison!”

I reached through, slicing my arm on the wire, fumbling for the deadbolt.

“Stop her!” the sub screamed.

But Mike and Katie held her back.

I turned the lock, and the door flew open.

I collapsed in the hallway just as other teachers came running.

“Call 911!” someone screamed.

The sub was still yelling from inside.

“They’re all faking! This is mass hysteria!”

The paramedics said I was clinically dead for three minutes.

They worked on me right there in the hallway while more ambulances arrived.

Miss Blade was fired and blacklisted from every school in the area.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

Two weeks later, we were sitting in class when our teacher broke the news.

After receiving his diagnosis of permanent partial blindness, Tommy had taken his own life.

All thanks to Miss Blade.

That was the moment I knew getting fired wasn’t enough.

We had to destroy her.

The words hung in the air while everyone sat frozen at their desks.

Katie’s hand found mine under the table and squeezed so hard my knuckles cracked.

Her eyes were red and puffy, but there was something else there too.

Something hard.

Something angry.

The bell rang and kids started filing out, but we stayed in our seats until the room emptied.

She leaned close and whispered that getting Miss Blade fired wasn’t even close to enough.

I nodded because my throat was too tight to speak.

After class, I had to go straight to my follow-up appointment at the hospital.

The doctor ran a scope down my throat and took pictures of the scarring.

He showed me the images on his computer screen, pointing to the damaged tissue.

My airways were permanently narrowed by 15%.