I had been a sickly child for a long time, spending most of my days either crying in bed or gazing out the window at the carefree birds. As an orphan, I had no memory of my origins, and frankly, I wasn't sure if I even wanted to know.
We were forced to attend a Catholic school surrounded by a graveyard. There were countless stories about shadowy figures seen wandering the school grounds at night.
During a science project, I felt a sudden pang in my stomach and rushed to the bathroom. As usual, the mischievous students had locked me out. After vomiting from the terrible breakfast, I passed out. When I awoke, it was dark outside. Panic set in as I realized I was alone and helpless.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the corridor. "Is anyone there?" a deep voice called out. I replied, tears streaming down my face. Relief washed over me as someone opened the door. He was a tall man with a beard, exuding a kind aura. He inquired about my backpack and escorted me out of the school to the orphanage, which was only two miles away.
He asked my grade and mentioned that he had taught math in high school and often checked test papers at night. He dropped me off at the orphanage gate, and I hurried inside to grab some dinner. Afterwards, I returned to thank him, but he was gone. Surprisingly, a black cat approached me, rubbing its head against my ankle before running away.
The next day, I searched the school archives for the teacher's picture. I found him smiling in a photo from 1989, the year I was in eighth grade. I asked the caretaker about him, and his expression turned grave. He confirmed that the teacher had committed suicide in the bathroom where I had been locked. However, many students claimed to have seen him wandering the school grounds, sometimes as a cat.
After that encounter, I recovered fully and became a math prodigy, even excelling in my board exams. I believe the encounter with the teacher played a significant role in my transformation.
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