The days that followed felt heavier than usual.
Emily no longer tried to make eye contact with anyone. Her gaze was always lowered, her books clutched tightly against her chest, as if they were the only protection she had. Whispers followed her in the hallways like shadows, curling into her ears no matter how fast she walked or how tightly she pressed her headphones in.
She didn't speak unless spoken to. She didn't raise her hand in class, even when she knew the answer. She sat at the very edge of her seat during lunch, near the wall, where the surveillance cameras wouldn't catch Vanessa's group sneaking behind her to pull cruel stunts.
On Thursday, she opened her locker to find her textbooks soaked in what smelled like toilet water. A ripped note was taped to the inside door: "You still think you're better than us, nerd?"
Her hands trembled as she pulled the books out. A few students passed by, saw what had happened — but looked away quickly. No one wanted to become a target.
Later that same day, her gym clothes were missing. She found them hours later stuffed in the janitor's closet — torn, dirty, and damp.
And her home wasn't any better.
That Friday, she returned to the kitchen to find her mother laughing at something on her phone, her younger sister painting at the table. "Mom," Emily began quietly, "we had a project due next week, but it's ruined. Someone—"
Her mother waved her off. "Emily, please. I've had a long day. Just redo it."
"I can't redo it. They—"
"Then stop letting people push you around," her mother snapped. "You're always acting like the world is against you. That's not how life works."
Emily stood still. Her mother didn't even look up from her phone.
And her father? He was never around long enough to care.
That night, she stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. The girl looking back didn't look strong. She didn't look like someone who could survive.
But deep beneath the dullness in her eyes… a flicker began to burn. A question whispered through her bones: How long will you let them win?
Not forever.
She didn't know how yet. She didn't know when. But something had changed. The silence she had once clung to now felt like a prison — and someday, she was going to break out of it.
They thought she would stay quiet.
They thought no one was watching.
But Emily was watching them. Every cruel laugh. Every fake smile. Every bribe. Every lie.
And she would remember it all.