Racheal's days were becoming a blur of whispers, stares, and silent cruelty. Even after the necklace accusation, life hadn't eased. If anything, it had worsened. Her siblings seemed to take pleasure in inventing new ways to humiliate her, and classmates were quick to follow suit. But nothing cut deeper than the betrayal that came from someone she had considered a friend — someone she had trusted.
It started innocuously. Liam, a boy from her math class, had been her partner in countless projects. They shared jokes, notes, and small victories. He had seemed different from the others — kind, attentive, the kind of friend who made the world feel less harsh. She had let herself relax around him, believing that, finally, there was someone in her corner.
But Racheal was learning, painfully, that trust in her world was a dangerous luxury.
One afternoon, after a particularly grueling day of sneers from classmates, she found Liam waiting outside the classroom. "Hey," he said, smiling. It was a warm, disarming smile. "I thought I'd walk with you."
Her chest lifted slightly. Maybe not everyone hated her. Maybe there was still someone who cared.
She walked beside him, sharing the trivial details of her day. For a moment, the world felt a little lighter. But that moment was shattered with the arrival of Jason.
Jason leaned against the lockers with that same crooked smirk, the one that had once made her heart flutter. And now it was aimed directly at her humiliation. "Well, well… look who's out for a stroll," he sneered. Behind him, a few of his friends snickered.
"Jason…" Her voice trembled.
"Oh, don't look so scared," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Remember our little bet?"
Her stomach sank. Memories of that cruel afternoon by the bleachers came rushing back — the laughter, her siblings' betrayal, and the cameras recording her pain. She had thought she would survive that day and somehow forget it. But Jason had made sure it would never leave her.
And then came the knife in the heart: Liam's laughter.
"Yeah," he said, grinning at Jason and the others. "You remember how she helped me? Made me stay home while I recovered from that… accident? Honestly, I don't know why. She was just… gullible."
Racheal froze. Her mouth opened, then closed. "You… you're lying," she whispered.
"Nope," Liam said, tossing her words aside like they were nothing. "She took the blame for everything while I got sympathy. Isn't that funny?" He laughed along with Jason, as if the months she had spent helping him, sitting by his side when no one else would, were a joke to be shared with everyone.
Her knees buckled. The corridor spun. Her chest ached so violently she thought it might collapse. She wanted to scream, to strike, to disappear entirely. But all she could do was retreat, every step feeling heavier than the last.
Even her siblings joined in, smirking as they passed, exchanging knowing glances. Melissa, who had once pretended to care, looked away, unable to meet her eyes. It was a chorus of betrayal, orchestrated with precision to leave her hollowed out and raw.
Back in her room, she sank to the floor, tears spilling freely. She could still see Jason's smirk, still hear Liam's laughter, still feel the cold indifference of her family. She clawed at her chest, trying to extract the pain, trying to make sense of how someone she had trusted could turn into a tormentor.
Her journal lay open. She grabbed it, scribbling frantically: I don't understand. I thought he was my friend. I thought someone would care. Maybe… maybe no one will ever care.
She curled into herself, shivering from more than the evening chill. Her thoughts were dark, swirling with hopelessness: I can't trust anyone. Not Jason, not Liam, not even my own family. I don't belong anywhere.
Hours passed, her sobs echoing against the walls. And somewhere deep in the shadows, the ember of hope she had clung to for years grew dimmer.
Yet, even as despair threatened to consume her, a part of her knew she couldn't stop living. The world might have conspired to crush her spirit, but she was still here. Still breathing. Still enduring. And that tiny defiance, fragile as it was, would one day meet someone who could finally understand — someone like Ethan.