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"Well, well, well, if it isn't the crazy freak," Claire's lazy, mocking voice rang out.

Scarlett's heart slammed against her ribs. Her legs turned to lead, frozen mid-step in the crowded hallway. She didn't need to look up—god, she didn't want to look up—but her body betrayed her. Slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her eyes.

There stood Claire, just a few feet away, arms folded over her designer blazer like she was posing for a magazine cover. That same cruel smirk played on her glossed lips, the one that haunted Scarlett's nightmares. Beside her, Brittany, Lily, and Ava—the faithful little puppets—giggled on cue, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Scarlett's mouth went desert-dry, her pulse pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.

"Please, not today," she thought, clutching her bag until her knuckles turned white. The strap dug into her palm, and she focused on that small pain, anything to ground herself in reality.

She wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor, to be anywhere but here. But life wasn't that kind. Instead, she kept her head down and forced herself to move forward, praying that maybe, just maybe, Claire would lose interest if she didn't react.

"Oh, come on," Claire's voice sliced through her thoughts like a blade.

Scarlett's stomach dropped.

Claire stepped directly into her path, designer heels clicking against the floor like a countdown. "Don't ignore me, Scarlett. That's really rude."

Scarlett shifted to the side, trying to slip past, but Claire mirrored her movement, blocking her path again. It was like some sick game of cat and mouse, and Claire was determined to win.

"Just leave me alone," Scarlett muttered, hating how her voice cracked on the last word, betraying just how close she was to breaking.

"Leave you alone?" Claire laughed, the sound dripping with false sweetness that made Scarlett's skin crawl. "Why would I do that? I'm just trying to remind everyone of the truth."

Claire leaned in close, her designer perfume suffocating, her voice dropping to a stage whisper meant for their growing audience. "Remember how you used to bully me back in grade school? Before you turned into this pathetic little mouse?"

The memory hit Scarlett like a punch to the gut—seventh grade, standing in the cafeteria as Claire spun her web of lies, tears streaming down her face as she told everyone how Scarlett had tormented her. It didn't matter that it never happened. Claire had told the story so many times, to so many people, that the truth had stopped mattering long ago.

"Don't worry," Claire cooed, tilting her head with mock sympathy. "I don't think anyone actually believes it anymore. I mean, look at you." Her eyes raked over Scarlett's plain hoodie, uniform skirt, and scuffed sneakers, her lip curling with each passing second.

"There's no way you could bully anyone," she added, her voice dripping with pity that felt like acid on Scarlett's skin.

Brittany snorted, her laugh sharp and grating. "Yeah, look at her! She couldn't even scare a fly."

Lily and Ava joined in, their giggles echoing down the hallway like a twisted chorus.

Scarlett's cheeks burned hot, humiliation creeping up her neck like wildfire. She felt them now—eyes. Too many of them. Watching. Judging. Whispering. Students slowed their pace, hungry for the show. Her daily humiliation was their favorite entertainment.

Her chest tightened as the walls seemed to close in, the laughter growing louder until it filled her head like static.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight back. She wanted to do something—anything.

But what could she do?

This was her life.

Scarlett's fingers dug deeper into her bag strap as she pushed forward, using the sharp bite of the fabric to keep herself moving.

"Hey!" Claire called after her, laughing. "We're not done here!"

But Scarlett didn't stop. She didn't look back.

"Freak!" Brittany yelled, her voice bouncing off the lockers.

More laughter erupted behind her, but Scarlett kept walking, vision blurring as tears threatened to fall. The sound followed her all the way to class, echoing in her ears long after she was out of their sight.

She made it just before the bell, sliding into her usual seat at the back of the room. The teacher was already talking, but the words were just noise.

Her eyes stayed fixed on her desk, fingers gripping the edges like it could somehow shield her from the world.

A crumpled ball of paper smacked against her head, bouncing onto her notebook. Through the wrinkles, she could make out crude stick figures and the word "PSYCHO" scrawled in red ink.

Scarlett didn't move.

"Oops," Claire whispered from behind her, loud enough for the entire back row to hear. "My bad. Guess I still need to work on my aim."

Brittany, Ava, and Lily snickered, their laughter low and conspiratorial.

Scarlett stared at the paper ball, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists beneath the desk.

But she didn't turn around. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Let them laugh. Let them think she was broken.

Inside, though, she was screaming.

The hours dragged by like years, each second heavier than the last. When the final bell rang, Scarlett was exhausted—emotionally, physically, mentally drained. She gathered her things quickly, slipping out before Claire or her friends could corner her again.

The walk home passed in a blur, her thoughts racing with everything she wished she'd said, everything she wished she could do.

Her parents' voices hit her the moment she opened the apartment door—sharp, bitter words flying back and forth in the living room. The same argument, different day. She didn't stop to listen. She didn't care what it was about this time.

Instead, she went straight to her room, shutting the door on the chaos. She dropped her bag and collapsed onto her bed, her body heavy with defeat.

The world outside could wait. The insults, the cruelty, the heartbreak—it could all wait.

Here, in the quiet of her room, she didn't have to pretend she was okay.

Scarlett closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling her toward sleep. But tonight would be different. Tonight, she wouldn't just dream.

Because in her dreams, she wasn't weak.

In her dreams, Claire wasn't untouchable.

In her dreams, she wasn't just Scarlett Hayes.

She was powerful. She was unstoppable. She was like a god.

And tonight, she would make them all fucking pay.