The first day back at school was worse than I had imagined.

I walked through the hallways, head down, my fingers gripping the straps of my backpack so tightly my knuckles turned white. Every whisper, every snicker felt like a dagger to my skin. My name slithered through the air like poison, carried by hushed voices and barely concealed laughter.

"Slut."

"Desperate."

"Pathetic."

The words weren’t shouted, but they didn’t have to be. They reached me all the same. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. My heart pounded against my ribs, but I kept my steps steady, refusing to let them see me break.

The first strike came at lunch.

I was carrying my tray, scanning the cafeteria for an empty seat, when someone bumped into me from behind. Hard. My tray wobbled, my lunch spilling down the front of my shirt. Gasps and laughter filled the room. My cheeks burned as I wiped at the mess, my hands shaking.

"Oops," a voice cooed behind me. "So clumsy."

I turned to see Nicole Reynolds, Ethan’s new girlfriend, smirking down at me. Her blonde hair was curled to perfection, her lips painted a glossy red. She tilted her head, feigning innocence, but the malice in her eyes was unmistakable.

"You should really watch where you’re going, Ava," she said sweetly. "Wouldn’t want you embarrassing yourself. Again."

Laughter erupted around us. I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. But before I could respond, Nicole’s friends swooped in, surrounding me like vultures.

"Oh my god, she smells like spoiled milk!"

"No, that’s just the stench of desperation."

"Maybe she thought getting with Ethan would make her popular. Hate to break it to you, Ava, but it just made you a joke."

A part of me wanted to scream. To throw my tray at them and storm out. But I didn’t. Because that’s what they wanted. Instead, I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and forced my voice to stay steady.

"Are you done?" I asked, meeting Nicole’s gaze. "Or do you need more people to laugh before you feel better about yourself?"

Her smirk twitched, but before she could respond, I turned on my heel and walked away. My shirt was stained, my appetite was gone, but I had won one small victory—I didn’t cry.

But the nightmare was far from over.

By the time I reached my locker, a sticky note was plastered across it in bold, black letters:

SLUT.

I ripped it off, my fingers trembling. The whispers followed me as I spun my lock, but when I opened the door, my blood ran cold.

A picture was taped inside. A picture of me, lying on Ethan’s bed, wearing nothing but his football jersey. Except it wasn’t real. My face had been edited onto someone else’s body, the edges blurred but the intent clear.

My breath caught in my throat. My vision swam. A choked sound clawed its way up my throat, but I swallowed it down.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

New notification: @LoserAva trending again.

Tears pricked my eyes. My hands shook as I slammed my locker shut and bolted for the restroom, my heart pounding like a drum. I barely made it into a stall before my knees buckled. I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to hold back a sob.

How? How has it gotten worse?

My phone buzzed again. Then again. My fingers fumbled as I pulled it out, my stomach twisting as I opened the messages.

[Unknown Number: Everyone’s seen it, Ava.]

[Unknown Number: No one’s gonna believe you.]

[Unknown Number: Slut. Whore. Go kill yourself.]

I gagged, my stomach heaving, but I swallowed the bile back down. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the walls to stop closing in. I couldn’t fall apart. Not here. Not where they could see me.

A knock on the stall door made me jump.

"Ava?"

The voice was soft, hesitant. I recognized it instantly—Lena, my former best friend. The girl who had abandoned me the second Ethan’s betrayal went public.

"Go away," I croaked.

A pause. Then, "I just… I wanted to check on you."

I laughed, the sound hollow. "Now you care?"

"Ava—"

"Just leave," I snapped. "Like you did before."

Silence. Then, the shuffle of retreating footsteps. The restroom door creaked open, then shut.

I let out a shuddering breath, pressing my forehead against the cold metal stall. My hands curled into my lap, nails digging into my skin. I didn’t know how much more I could take.

But the worst was yet to come.

By the time the final bell rang, I was barely holding myself together. I just wanted to get home, crawl into bed, and pretend this day never happened. But as I stepped outside, a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Miss Carter."

I turned slowly. Mr. Grayson, the school counselor, stood by the entrance, his expression unreadable. My stomach twisted.

"Your parents are here."

My blood ran cold.

Dread settled over me like a heavy blanket as I followed him down the hall. The moment I stepped into the office, my mother’s glare cut through me like a blade. My father sat beside her, his jaw clenched, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his knee.

"Ava," my mother hissed, her voice laced with barely restrained fury. "What have you done?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Mr. Grayson cleared his throat. "We called you in because of the recent harassment—"

"Harassment?" My father scoffed. "You mean the humiliation our daughter has brought upon herself?"

Pain sliced through me, sharp and unforgiving.

"This… this isn’t my fault," I whispered. "I didn’t—"

"Enough," my mother snapped. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is? Do you know how many people have seen those pictures? Your father and I can’t even show our faces without—"

"You think this is about you?" My voice cracked. "Mom, someone faked those pictures! I’ve been getting threats! My life is hell, and all you care about is your reputation?"

My mother’s eyes hardened. "You should have thought about that before you threw yourself at a boy like some cheap—"

"Mrs. Carter," Mr. Grayson interrupted sharply, "I understand this is a difficult situation, but your daughter is the victim here."

My father snorted. "She’s no victim. She’s weak."

The words punched the air from my lungs.

"We’ll handle this at home," my mother said stiffly, grabbing her purse. "Let’s go, Ava."

I stood frozen, numb, as she stormed out. My father followed without a glance back. I felt Mr. Grayson watching me, waiting for me to say something, to ask for help.

But I didn’t.

Because what was the point?

I turned and walked out the door.

Because if no one was going to save me, I’d have to save myself.

Betrayal tastes like copper on my tongue.

I stare at Lena across the cafeteria, her laughter mixing with theirs—his circle, his friends. My so-called best friend, now sitting with the very people who ruined me. She catches my eye, just for a second, and I swear something flickers in her expression. Guilt? Hesitation? But then she looks away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as if the weight of my presence is too much for her to bear.

I clutch my tray tighter, the edges biting into my palms. My chest feels like it's caving in.

I was stupid to think she would choose me.

“You’re blocking the line, Carter.”

The voice sends ice through my veins. Low. Amused.

Ethan.

I snap my head up, and there he is, standing behind me with that smirk—the one that used to make my stomach flip, now curdles something sour inside me. His dark eyes flicker with something cruel, something entertained, like I’m a joke he’s already bored of.

I move before he can say anything else, gripping my tray and walking as fast as I can. The cafeteria is a battlefield. Every table is enemy territory. Every whisper is a loaded gun pointed at my back.

I end up outside, shoving through the double doors into the crisp autumn air. My breath is ragged. My legs shake. My appetite is gone.

“Running away?”

I freeze.

The voice is even worse than Ethan’s. Colder. Detached. It slides down my spine like a blade.

I turn slowly. He’s leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. Lucas Monroe. The boy I used to love. The boy who let them destroy me.

My pulse pounds in my ears. I force myself to meet his eyes, but there’s nothing there. Just cool indifference. A smirk that barely lifts the corner of his lips.

“What do you want?” My voice barely holds steady.

Lucas exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching me like I’m something pitiful. “Nothing. Just curious how long you’d last before breaking.”

My fingers curl into fists. “Screw you.”

His smirk deepens, but he doesn’t stop me when I turn and walk away.

The weight of it all presses down on me—Lena’s betrayal, Ethan’s smug amusement, Lucas’s coldness. It follows me into class, suffocates me until even the numbers on my math test blur together. The teacher’s voice drones on, but I can’t focus. My head throbs. My fingers shake against my desk.

“Ava.”

The sharp voice jolts me.

Mrs. Callahan’s gaze is pointed, disapproving. “This is the third test you’ve failed this semester.”

A few muffled laughs scatter around the room. Heat crawls up my neck.

“I—” My voice catches.

She sighs. “See me after class.”

I sink lower into my seat as the whispers start again.

I should have known it was a setup.

The school event is packed. The gym echoes with music, chatter, laughter that doesn’t belong to me. I hover near the exit, debating whether to slip out and go home when a voice calls my name.

Nicole.

She stands by the supply closet, her smile saccharine. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”

I should say no. Every instinct screams at me to walk away.

But I don’t.

I follow her inside. The door slams behind me.

Click.

The lock slides into place.

Darkness swallows me whole.

Laughter echoes from the other side. Muffled voices.

“Oh my god, she actually fell for it.”

“Let’s see how long she lasts.”

Panic explodes in my chest. My hands slap against the door, pounding, clawing.

“Let me out!”

No response. Just retreating footsteps.

And then, silence.

My breath comes in ragged gasps. My heartbeat is a wild, thrashing thing. I shove at the door, but it doesn’t budge. My nails scrape against the wood. The air feels too thick. Too tight.

I am trapped.

Alone.

And no one is coming to save me.

Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. I can’t tell. The darkness is suffocating, pressing in from all sides. I slide down to the floor, curling my knees to my chest. My breathing slows, but my heart still hammers against my ribs. The laughter outside has long since faded, leaving me with only my thoughts. The fear creeps in, whispering doubts, tearing at the frayed edges of my mind.

They won’t come back.

They’ll leave me here all night.

I bite down on my lip to keep the panic at bay. But the memories come anyway. The past bleeding into the present, resurfacing like ghosts I’ve spent too long trying to bury. Lucas’s smirk. Ethan’s taunts. Lena’s hesitation, the way she turned away instead of standing by me. Every betrayal stacks upon the last, forming a wall too high to climb.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t stay here.

I force myself to my feet, ignoring the tremble in my limbs. There has to be a way out. I run my hands along the walls, feeling for anything—a vent, a weakness in the structure, something to pry open. My fingers brush against shelves filled with cleaning supplies. I knock them over, the sound of falling bottles shattering the silence.

Then my hands find the doorknob again. I twist it, pull it with all my strength. Still locked. But then I remember something—sometimes old doors can be pushed instead of pulled.

I brace myself and throw my weight against it.

Nothing.

Again.

Again.

Desperation fuels my next attempt. The door groans, then gives way just enough for me to wedge my foot in the gap. I push harder, straining against it until, finally, it bursts open, sending me stumbling into the empty hallway.

I gasp, sucking in fresh air like I’ve been drowning. My hands are shaking, my knees weak. But I’m free.

Footsteps echo in the distance. I don’t wait to see who it is. I run.

The night air is sharp against my skin as I step outside. My mind screams at me to go home, to disappear into my room and pretend none of this happened. But I can’t. Not yet.

Not until I find her.

Lena is exactly where I expect her to be—outside the gym, leaning against the brick wall, phone in hand. She looks up as I approach, her expression unreadable. For a second, I see it again. The flicker of guilt. But it’s not enough.

“Why?” My voice is raw, barely above a whisper.

Lena exhales slowly. “Ava…”

“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to act sorry. You let them do this.”

“I didn’t know—”

“You did.” My voice breaks. “You just didn’t care enough to stop it.”

She flinches but doesn’t deny it. That’s what hurts the most.

I take a step back, something inside me shattering beyond repair. “We’re done.”

I turn before she can say anything else.

And this time, I don’t look back.