The bell rang. A dull, metallic clang—too sharp to be welcoming, too flat to mean anything good.
Venessa tucked her books to her chest, shoulders hunched as she slipped into her first class. Her steps were small, cautious. She always walked like she was afraid of making noise—afraid someone would remember she existed.
"Venessa," said a voice near the desk.
She froze.
Mr. Wilbert, the math teacher, offered her a paper with a slight smile.
"Top of the class again," he said. "You've got a sharp mind."
For a second, her heart lifted—just for a second. She nodded mutely and took the paper, hiding the faintest smile in her eyes as she walked toward her seat.
It was the only good moment in her day, and it lasted just ten steps.
---
She turned into the main corridor during break. The worst place to exist.
"Here comes the class robot," one girl sneered.
"She probably sleeps with her textbooks," said another.
"I think she was born with glasses," the third one giggled, elbowing her friend.
They didn't shout—they didn't need to. Their voices were sharp and just loud enough. Loud enough for Venesa to hear and for others to pretend they didn't.
One of the girls bumped her shoulder as she passed. Her books and papers spilled across the hall.
No one helped.
Venessa knelt quietly and began to gather them up, hands trembling. She kept her head down. If she looked up, she might cry.
---
Later, in class, they sat behind her and passed a folded note with "VENESAUR" scrawled on the front and a cartoon of her drawn with a hunched back and giant glasses. The giggles behind her didn't stop for the rest of the period.
Her quiz paper—once something she felt proud of—was now crumpled in her hoodie pocket.
By the time the final bell rang, Venesa felt hollow. Not angry. Not sad. Just... nothing. Like she was dissolving, piece by piece.
---
AT HOME..
The house didn't feel like home. It never really had.
As soon as she stepped inside, her mother's voice cut through the air.
"You're late. Again. And look at your shoes—tracking dirt in here like we live in a barn."
"I—" Venessa started, but her voice disappeared the second it arrived.
"You can't even keep the floors clean. What do you even do all day?!" her father barked from the living room.
"I studied," she whispered, but they had already stopped listening.
"You can't cook. You can't clean. You can't even watch over your siblings. You're just... useless."
The last word hit harder than the others.
Her 10-year-old brother looked up from his game console and smirked.
"She's probably still spying on me, acting like some mini-mom."
Venessa's lips parted, but she couldn't speak. Every word got stuck in her throat like it knew it wouldn't be welcome.
---
She didn't have a room of her own. Just a mattress in the corner of the small space she shared with her 7-year-old sister. Her brother had his own room. His own space. His own freedom.
Venessa had... a corner.
She lay down facing the wall, her body curled tight. The blanket felt cold, but her chest burned.
The silence was louder at night. It was in the silence that her thoughts grew teeth.
They're right, she told herself.
You're the reason she's gone.
You should've been more careful. More responsible.
You were the big sister. You were supposed to protect her.
She bit her lip to keep the sob inside.
Then she heard the soft sound of tiny feet.
The mattress dipped.
"Can I sleep here tonight?" her little sister whispered, already snuggling under the blanket before Venesa could answer.
Venessa stayed silent. Eyes shut tight. Breathing shaky.
But the small arms wrapped around her waist and held on.
"I like you, Nessa," her sister said sleepily. "You're the best sister. Even if everyone's mad."
A sharp sob escaped Venessa's throat before she could stop it. Her hand reached back, trembling, and found her sister's tiny fingers under the covers. She squeezed them like they were a rope keeping her from falling apart completely.
Her sister was already dozing, her breath warm and soft against Venesa's back.
For the first time in a long time, Venessa didn't cry herself to sleep alone...
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To be continued to chapter 2..