Chapter 4B: The Biology of Exposure

I stepped into the biology classroom, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest, still reeling from the humiliation of the day. The sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant clung to the air, a clinical reminder of where I was, but it did nothing to wash away the shame that clung to me like a second skin. I scanned the room, desperate to find my usual seat in the back corner by the window, a refuge where I could fade into the shadows. The two guys and three girls at the table were faces I barely recognized—nameless and unimportant to me, and I hoped I was just as invisible to them. Maybe, just maybe, I could survive the rest of the day unnoticed.

But there was no escape.

“Emma!” Ms. Walsh’s voice sliced through the quiet like a blade, piercing my fragile hopes and sending a shockwave of dread through me. My stomach dropped, twisting in fear as her words crashed over me. Not again. Please, not again.

“Come up to the front and help me with today’s lesson,” she called, her tone casual, as if I were simply being asked to hand over a piece of paper. Each word felt like a hammer blow against my already fragile psyche. My legs locked in place, refusing to move, but the weight of my classmates’ eyes—hungry, expectant—began pulling me forward, dragging me to the center of the room. My skin prickled under their collective gaze, and each step toward the front felt like a march to my doom. I wanted to scream, to run, to vanish into thin air. But there was no escape.

Ms. Walsh had arranged a stool in the center of the room like some kind of stage, a spotlight I couldn’t avoid. Just looking at it made my legs tremble, but I kept moving. Each step felt like walking into a trap I couldn’t evade. She smiled at me—not a comforting smile, but one that sent a fresh wave of panic through me. This wasn’t about learning. This was about spectacle. About my body being reduced to nothing more than a tool for humiliation.

“Come on, Emma,” Ms. Walsh urged, her tone light and breezy, as though this was no big deal. As though I wasn’t about to be put on display for everyone’s amusement. But it was a big deal. For me, this was hell.

I climbed onto the stool, my whole body trembling, each muscle taut with fear. I gripped the edges of the seat like it was my only lifeline, trying to steady myself against the flood of shame that threatened to drown me. But the room kept closing in, suffocating me under the weight of their stares, their whispers, their judgment. I wanted to be anywhere but here, to disappear completely, to be forgotten.