She slammed the book shut, exasperated at its editor, at herself.
Her world was crumbling, and she blamed her teachers, her friends, the world. None of the books that she could pore over would make the next few months any easier.
She opened the book just to slam it again, savoring the resounding echoes.
Again she slammed it shut, releasing her frustration, her anger at the world.
And then one more time.
And this fourth time, the slam mocked her. It reverberated in her ears one hundred times, calling her dumb, lazy; echoing--- until she threw herself down and cried.