Suicide Edge to Revenge Win
Ongoing · Joy Brown
The day someone stuffed a rancid, oil-dripping sandwich into my locker, splattering my uniform, I understood—no one here saw me as human.
My stepsister crushed my fallen lunch under her heel, laughing at how "pathetic" I was. In chemistry class, they all watched as I rattled around alone in the corner. Even my so-called best friend mocked me, fake-sobbing into a book—"Mommy, I miss you so much"—mimicking my most vulnerable moment for everyone's entertainment.
Until I climbed to the school roof, one step from jumping, when my phone suddenly rang: "Want to make them beg for forgiveness?"
My stepsister crushed my fallen lunch under her heel, laughing at how "pathetic" I was. In chemistry class, they all watched as I rattled around alone in the corner. Even my so-called best friend mocked me, fake-sobbing into a book—"Mommy, I miss you so much"—mimicking my most vulnerable moment for everyone's entertainment.
Until I climbed to the school roof, one step from jumping, when my phone suddenly rang: "Want to make them beg for forgiveness?"
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