High school was already a battlefield for Racheal, but nothing could have prepared her for this.
It started with Jason. For years, she had carried a quiet crush on him — the kind that lived in secret doodles in her notebooks and shy glances across classrooms. When he started smiling at her in the hallways, when he sat closer in class, when he asked her little questions, she thought maybe… just maybe… things were changing.
He asked her to meet him after school by the football bleachers. Her heart raced so wildly she thought it might break through her chest. She spent the day in a haze of fragile hope, straightening her hair twice in the bathroom mirror, whispering to her reflection: Maybe this is it. Maybe someone finally sees me.
When she got there, the sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange, as though the universe itself wanted to bless her. Jason was waiting.
"Hey," he said with that crooked smile. "You look nice."
Her cheeks burned. No one had ever said that to her. She whispered, "Thank you," her voice trembling with hope.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You know… I think you're sweet. Not like what people say. You're different."
The words cracked open something inside her — a wound that had always ached, finally soothed. She let herself believe. For the first time, she believed.
And then came the laughter.
It burst from behind the bleachers — cruel, sharp, endless. Racheal spun around to see them: her brothers, two of her sisters, and even Melissa. Phones in hand, recording.
Jason laughed too. "See? I told you she'd fall for it. Pay up, guys."
Her heart stopped.
Her brothers whooped, exchanging money, clapping Jason on the back. Her sisters turned their faces away, too ashamed to meet her eyes but not enough to stop the spectacle. Melissa just stared at the ground.
The world tilted. "You… you made a bet?" Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.
Jason shrugged, smirk widening. "Don't take it so hard, Rach. It's just a joke. You know, for fun."
For fun.
Her chest split open. Her legs trembled. Tears blurred her sight as the laughter surrounded her, pierced her, swallowed her whole.
She ran. She didn't remember how her feet carried her, didn't remember pushing through the front door of her house. She only remembered the sting in her chest, the sound of her siblings' voices echoing in her head.
In her room, she collapsed onto the floor, gasping, clawing at her chest as if she could rip out the ache.
Her journal lay open nearby. She dragged it close with shaking hands and scribbled through the tears: I wish I wasn't here. I wish I could disappear. I wish I was someone else. Anyone else.
The words blurred as her sobs grew harder. She pressed her face into her pillow to muffle the sound, but nothing could silence the truth screaming inside her:
Even my family would rather see me humiliated than see me happy.
That night, she didn't sleep. She stared at the cracked ceiling until dawn, her body hollow, her heart shattered into pieces so small she wondered if it could ever be put back together again.