[ WP ] The other kids in my class make fun of me for being a `` know-it-all '' . And they 're right : I DO know EVERYTHING . But they ca n't imagine the daily horror of my life .

I told her that I remember the day that I was born. 
 
 The pressure. The terror. 
 
 I remember the sensation of exhumation from your womb. 
 
 The smell of latex gloves and the sound of my father's teardrops hitting the floor. 
 
 A moment of transcendence from one world to the next. 
 
 And even though that day was met with happiness from those that bore me, it marked the horrifying denouement of my awareness. 
 
 I've never stopped learning, and even in utero I listened intently to conversations around me, and absorbed every muffled nugget of information I could latch onto. 
 
 I've picked up on patterns in life that most would ignore - for me, these pieces lay into and on one another to create a tapestry of predictable knots, tangles, weave and stitch; the endless cycle of conversations - we discuss money and career, life and death, love and hate alluding to our histories and foretelling our futures. 
 
 Because of this I am woefully cognizant of what has transpired, and often -with more accuracy than I can proudly lay claim to - what has yet to be. 
 
.......I know. 
 
.....And I hurt each day because of it.... 
 
 My gift is unappreciated, and even ridiculed by the people whose fate means the most to this world. 
 
 When I shared my gift, it was not out of hatred - but of pure love and one that loves through the scorn, misunderstanding and malignancy. One that wanted to comfort them in their final moments. I wanted them to understand that their demise shouldn ’ t cause them undue pain for if they could just understand the pattern to which they contribute. 
 
 I've mourned many nights for them, because I knew that it would come and it pains my soul to see the lights shut off too soon. I fear this day as much as they. 
 
 Without a word, I was directed to make my way back to the glass sitting room, and I hung my head in solidarity with those who had so condemned my words. 
 
 Soon enough they ’ d know. 
 
 I sat in silence for a time, trying and failing to hold back tears for what I know was to come. 
 
 And then I heard it. 
 
 A large crashing sound reverberated through the corridors, and for a time it seems that the world is in flux – waves of sound bending the concrete walls, knocking the world askew for a half-second as if the world had turned on it side to discard the excess souls; this world is only for the living – no matter the stories you hear. 
 
 The door I ’ d just exited swung open and she raced toward the epicenter of the noise, but she was stopped short by debris. What had once been walls were now piles of rubble and soot. 
 
 And now, layering on top of one another, slowly the sounds emerged. 
 
 Screams of dread, on screams of confusion, on screams of pain, on screams of fear. 
 
 Sirens in the distance and a slow journey to escape what was once a place of learning for most. The earth had folded inward, and taken much of the building with it. 
 
 Their nickname for me wasn ’ t without basis in truth, and with a knowing look I turned to Principal Horner as the color drained from her cheeks - to tell her that this moment was the one I intended to warn the class about; I wanted them to know that their deaths would be quick, and for the most part painless. The only thing I did n't know was just how fearful they might be, and that I wouldn ’ t be with them. 
 
 TL/DR: Know-it-all is sent to the principals office after telling the class they were all going to die that day; while he's in the office, the part of the building where his classroom is, falls into a sinkhole. 

