Framed by Her, Forsaken by Him

It was true. For ten years, I fought back against anyone who bullied me—even over a harsh word.

Eventually, it became second nature.

Until Anna showed up.

Taylor said, “Anna is small and delicate. Her family favors boys and neglects her completely. If it weren’t for her grades—and the teacher and police stepping in—she would’ve been married off to some old bachelor for dowry money. Now she has to juggle school and part-time work just to survive. Her life’s tough. Unlike you. You’re carefree and have everything handed to you.”

“If I don’t feel sorry for her, who will? Can’t you show a little understanding? A little empathy?”

His sense of chivalry and need to protect were triggered. He was enjoying the role of savior to someone who knew how to act vulnerable.

Just like now. Anna sobbed quietly, and his glare turned to me—cold and sharp.

“Why are you crying? You think that’ll make me pity you?”

“Does crying excuse what you did? Let me tell you, Desiree, I don’t pity you—I find you disgusting.”

Right then, I heard Anna’s thoughts again:

“Tsk, this guy’s such a scumbag. Even if he doesn’t believe in his childhood sweetheart, this is too much. If I were Desiree, my heart would’ve shattered.”

“And he claims no girl matters to him but Desiree. Look at this fool, one wave of my hand and he’s wagging his tail like a puppy.”

“But hey, who complains about having too many rich, dumb lapdogs?”

I cried—and laughed.

A wild thought crossed my mind: What would he do if he could hear her real thoughts one day?

I wanted to leave.

But Taylor grabbed my wrist, his eyes sharp.

“Trying to run?”

“Apologize to Anna.”

“I won’t. Why should I? I told you—I didn’t take her competition essay, and I definitely didn’t tear it.”

I stood tall, chin raised, tears held back, locking eyes with him.

The stares from our classmates pressed on me like a weight.

“Clearly, Taylor has feelings for Anna. Desiree got jealous and ripped her essay. Poor Anna.”

“Wow, Desiree’s vicious. I’m staying away from her—I don’t want her canceling my plans with Taylor too.”

“Apologize! You owe her an apology!”

No one heard me.

They were all trapped in their own narratives, casting accusations like stones. Each one crushed me a little more until I wished I could vanish.

And Taylor was the first stone to hit.

He slammed his fist into the wall beside him, his face twisted with rage.

“Fine. You won’t apologize? Then don’t come to me for anything. Don’t even tell people you know me.”

Anna flinched and clutched his hand, tears in her eyes.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she pleaded.

“She doesn’t want to apologize, fine—but my competition essay’s still gone. I’ll have to rewrite it anyway.”

Taylor didn’t back down, but then the bell rang, and the crowd scattered.

I lowered my head and returned to my seat.

Next was English class—taught by the infamously strict teacher everyone called “the she-devil.”

A few days ago, we’d taken a baseline test, and today the teacher was collecting our answer sheets.

I was sure I had put mine in my bag, but now it was missing.

Panic set in, and sweat trickled down my neck.

The teacher’s face darkened.

I bit my lip and held out my hand.

Each strike from her pointer landed harder than the last—no mercy.

My palms turned red, welts rising across the skin.

Afterwards, her voice was as cold as ice.

“This won’t happen again. Go stand in the back.”