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A few days had passed since it happened, but the ache hadn't dulled. The bruises were fading, but the fear wasn't. Not even a little.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, gripping the sink until my knuckles went white. My reflection stared back at me with hollow eyes, tired and unfamiliar. The girl in the glass looked like she'd lived a hundred years in the span of a weekend. She looked like she was pretending to be okay—and not doing a very good job.

You have to try, Emily, Mom had said last night. You can't stay home forever.

I hadn't answered her.

Today would be my first day back at school since my sexual assault.

I swallowed hard and looked away from the mirror.

When I walked into the kitchen, the smell of scrambled eggs and toast wrapped around me, warm and familiar—but I didn't feel hungry. I didn't feel anything.

Lily was perched at the table, swinging her legs as she spooned eggs into her mouth between giggles at something Sam had said. Sam sat across from her, flipping through the sports section of the paper like it was part of his daily routine. Maybe it was.

They both looked up when I entered. Lily gave me a soft smile. Sam just nodded.

I nodded back.

Mom was at the stove, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard me come in. Her eyes scanned me quickly, like she was checking to see if I was still in one piece. I hated that look—so full of questions she didn't know how to ask.

"There's food if you want it," she said gently. "You've got time."

I didn't answer. I sat down slowly at the end of the table, my hands in my lap, still cold even though the house was warm.

Lily slid the butter closer to me like she always did, like nothing was different.

No one asked why I'd been out of school.

No one asked what was wrong.

And I didn't tell them.

I picked up a piece of toast and nibbled the corner, mostly to give my hands something to do. The sounds of breakfast filled the room—the scrape of forks, the crinkle of paper, the soft hum of Mom moving behind me. Everything felt normal.

Except it wasn't.

I was still here. Still silent. Still hiding.

And no one—not even Mom—knew what I was hiding from.

By the time I got to school, the halls were alive with the usual chaos. Lockers slamming, people laughing, conversations overlapping.

I kept my head down, gripping the straps of my backpack so tightly my knuckles turned white. My heart pounded, a steady drumbeat of too much, too much, too much.

Breathe, Emily.

I spotted Jasmine and Mia at my locker. The second they saw me, their faces lit up.

"There you are!" Jasmine said, bumping her shoulder against mine. "It's about time you came back. We thought you died or something."

Mia smirked. "Yeah, you totally missed Trevor's latest stupidity. He actually tried to start a petition to get better cafeteria food."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Like that'll ever happen."

I forced a small laugh. "Sounds like I missed some entertainment."

Mia studied me for a second, her smirk fading just slightly. "You okay? You've been gone a while."

I tensed.

I had prepared for this—prepared to say something normal, something that wouldn't make them ask more questions.

"Yeah," I said quickly. "Just... wasn't feeling great."

Jasmine nodded, accepting my answer. "Well, glad you're back."

Mia, however, was still watching me. Like she could see the cracks in my mask.

I turned back to my locker, pretending I didn't notice.

I spun my lock open with trembling fingers, pretending I didn't feel Mia's eyes on me. I could practically hear her thinking. She always noticed things—little shifts in tone, a glance held too long, a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

My hands fumbled with my books. Everything felt off—like I was underwater, moving too slow while the rest of the world rushed past.

"You sure you're okay?" Mia asked again, softer this time.

I nodded without looking at her. "Yeah. Just tired."

It was true, technically. I hadn't slept more than a few hours in days. But that wasn't what she meant, and we both knew it.

Mia didn't push. She just exchanged a glance with Jasmine, who, thankfully, didn't catch on—or pretended not to.

"I saved you a seat in homeroom," Jasmine said, cheerful again. "Well, technically I threatened the kid who tried to take it yesterday, but same thing."

That pulled a real smile from me, small but real. "Thanks."

The bell rang, sharp and sudden, and students scattered like startled birds. Jasmine looped her arm through mine and tugged me down the hall, chattering about something that happened in science class while I was gone. Mia walked on my other side, quiet.

I stayed wedged between them, surrounded, protected.

Still, my chest tightened with every step toward homeroom.

Because even though I was back... I didn't feel here. Not really.

The day flew by in a mess of lessons, scribbled notes, and background noise. Teachers talked. Students whispered. I nodded at the right times, wrote things down, pretended to care.

But none of it stuck.

It felt like I was moving through fog—my body here, my mind miles away. Disconnected. Hollow.

And then came lunch.

I stepped into the cafeteria, and my breath hitched the second I saw him.

Trevor.

Sitting at his usual table, surrounded by his pack of friends, all loud and grinning like they ruled the school.

He hadn't changed. Same smug face. Same easy laugh. Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn't touched me.

Like he hadn't taken something I didn't give.

My legs locked in place. The tray in my hands trembled.

He looked up—right at me.

Our eyes met.

And then he smirked.

I froze.

The air vanished from my lungs. My heart slammed against my ribs like it wanted out.

Trevor leaned in toward one of his friends and said something. I couldn't hear it over the noise, but I saw the way his friend's face twisted into a grin.

Another boy snorted. Then another.

And then they all laughed.

Loud. Cruel. Like it was the funniest joke in the world.

They didn't need to say it out loud—I knew exactly what he was talking about. I felt it in my skin, crawling like fire. The memory surged up behind my eyes, and I had to blink hard to keep it down.

He was joking about it.

Joking.

Like I was a punchline.

My knees buckled slightly, but I caught myself.

Jasmine touched my arm. "Emily?"

I flinched again. The tray nearly slipped from my hands. She pulled back, startled.

"Whoa," she said, her voice laced with concern. "What's going on? You're shaking."

Mia was watching too—closer this time. Her expression wasn't playful anymore. It was cautious. Protective. Suspicious.

I forced myself to look away from Trevor and move toward our table.

"Just spaced out," I said, my voice thin and flat.

Another lie.

We sat down. I didn't touch my food. I couldn't.

Jasmine and Mia talked—tried to keep things normal—but their voices barely touched me. I could still feel Trevor's eyes on my back. Could still hear the echo of their laughter like it was stuck in my skull.

Mia leaned in at one point. "If something's going on, you can tell us."

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

Lie.

I didn't want to say the truth. I didn't want them to look at me differently. I didn't want to be the girl that everyone whispered about. The one he joked about. The one who—

I clenched my jaw and stared down at my untouched tray.

Trevor was fine.

And I wasn't.

That was the part that hurt the most.

By the time seventh period rolled around, I was done.

Whatever strength I'd scraped together that morning had completely run out.

The walls felt too close. The air too thick. Every voice, every footstep, every flicker of light overhead made my skin crawl.

I needed out.

I raised my hand, my voice barely above a whisper. "Can I go to the nurse?"

The teacher glanced at me, eyes narrowing like they were about to ask a question—but then they paused, really looked at me, and just nodded. "Go ahead."

I must've looked worse than I realized.

But I didn't go to the nurse.

I walked straight past the office, down the empty hallway, and ducked into the nearest bathroom. Cold, quiet, tiled walls. I shoved into a stall and locked the door behind me.

Then I broke.

I slid down until I was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped tight around myself. My breath came in shallow gasps. My hands trembled. My nails dug into my arms until it hurt—but even that didn't feel like enough.

The tears came fast. Hot. Silent.

I had actually thought I could do this. Thought I could come back here, sit in those stupid plastic chairs, make small talk with Jasmine and Mia, pretend lunch didn't feel like a battlefield—and that seeing him wouldn't send me spiraling.

But I was wrong.

I wasn't ready.

Not even close.

I pressed my forehead against the cold metal of the stall door, trying to ground myself, trying to breathe through the storm inside me.

Just one more class, I told myself. Just one more.

Then I could go home. Then I could hide under my blankets and pretend the world didn't exist for a few hours. Then I could stop pretending.

I squeezed my eyes shut, clinging to the last thread of control I had left.

"You can do this," I whispered to myself. "You can do this."

I didn't know if it was true.

But I had to believe it was—just long enough to make it through.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day.

I grabbed my backpack and moved fast, weaving through the hallways like I could outrun the weight crushing my chest. I just needed to get home. I just needed to be alone.

But I barely made it three steps out of the classroom before I heard—

"Emily!"

I froze.

Jasmine and Mia stood just outside the door. One look at their faces, and I knew—I wasn't getting out of this.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound normal. My voice came out too light, too fake.

Jasmine crossed her arms. "Okay. Spill."

I blinked. "What?"

Mia sighed. "You've been weird all day."

"You barely said a word at lunch," Jasmine added. "And you jumped every time someone so much as sneezed. And when we saw Trevor—"

She stopped, her jaw clenching. "You looked like you saw a ghost."

My stomach twisted. Of course they noticed.

"I've just been tired," I said with a shrug that didn't feel like mine.

Jasmine arched an eyebrow. "Liar."

Mia's voice softened. "Come on, Em. We're your best friends. You don't have to fake it with us."

I opened my mouth, ready to brush it off again. Ready to dodge, deflect, bury it.

Then Mia said, "Did Trevor do something?"

I flinched.

I didn't mean to. But it happened.

And they both saw it.

Everything changed in an instant.

Jasmine's face darkened, her entire body going still. "Emily. What. Happened?"

Mia took a slow step toward me, like I was made of glass. "It was him, wasn't it?"

I felt cornered. Caged.

My throat burned. My chest heaved. Panic clawed at my ribs.

"I don't want to talk about it," I whispered.

Jasmine shook her head. "Emily—"

"I can't," I choked out. "Please. Just drop it."

They hesitated. Then Mia nodded slowly. "Okay. We won't push."

Relief swelled in my chest—but it was fragile. Hollow.

"But," Mia continued, "you can't carry this by yourself. If you can't tell us, tell someone. Please."

Jasmine nodded. "Your mom?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Wait—she doesn't know?" Jasmine blinked, shocked. "At all?"

"I don't want her to," I said, barely getting the words out.

Another silence. Thick. Heavy.

"Emily..." Mia's voice was soft. Careful. "You don't have to tell her. But you have to tell someone. What about a group? A place you can go just to listen?"

I shook my head again. "I don't know..."

"It's just an idea," Mia said gently. "You don't even have to talk. You just... show up. Sit. Be around people who get it."

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say no. I didn't know what I wanted.

Jasmine's voice came quieter than usual. "I think it could help. Because you don't deserve to keep hurting like this."

I stared at the floor. My fingers dug into the strap of my backpack. I opened my mouth, and for a second, I thought I'd lie again.

But something cracked.

Something gave.

"Wait."

It came out small—barely more than a breath—but it stopped them in their tracks.

They turned, eyes wide. Expectant.

I swallowed hard, heart hammering in my ears.

"I... I can't tell my parents," I said. "But I need to tell someone."

Mia stepped forward. "We're here."

I stared at them—my best friends—and the fear inside me twisted into something else. Something raw. Something real.

"It was Trevor."

The words left my mouth like glass.

Jasmine's fists clenched. Mia went still.

I looked away, the tears already blurring my vision. "I was walking in the park... a few nights back... he—"

My voice cracked. I pressed a hand over my mouth.

I didn't want to say it.

But I had to.

I forced the words out, my whole body shaking. "He raped me."

Jasmine inhaled sharply, like the wind had been knocked out of her. "That bastard—"

Mia grabbed her arm before she could say more, her own face pale with shock. "Emily..."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said quickly. "Not all of it. I just—I needed someone to know. But please don't tell anyone. Not yet."

Mia's eyes filled with tears. She nodded. "Okay. We won't. But Emily... you're not alone."

Jasmine's voice, still thick with rage, softened. "We're with you. Whatever you need."

I wiped at my face with my sleeve, my throat raw.

They knew.

And they believed me.

I didn't know what healing looked like. I didn't know what came next.

But now... I didn't have to figure it out alone.

Mia stepped closer and gently took my hand. "We'll figure it out," she said. "Together."

Jasmine nodded, fierce and steady. "No matter what, we've got you."