Chapter 1: The Betrayal Loop Begins

Before the SATs, I saw a classmate being harassed by a local jerk behind the school. I stepped in, heart pounding, and called 911, my hands sweating as I punched in the numbers. The air in the parking lot was thick and muggy, the kind that made your shirt stick to your back. I could already see the red and blue lights flashing before the sirens even faded, torn between relief and dread about what would come next.

But the next day, she came into our classroom with the police, her finger shaking as she pointed right at me.

The whole room went dead quiet—the kind of silence that falls right after the morning announcements, when everyone senses something big is about to happen. Her face was streaked with tears, her voice barely holding together as she singled out my desk. For a second, I wondered if I was dreaming.

She accused me of being her attacker, insisting the real culprit was innocent.

Her words cut through the classroom like a slap. The officer next to her stared at me, his expression impossible to read. My ears burned with disbelief. I wanted to shout, but my tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth.

I was arrested on the spot, branded a predator by everyone I knew.

Kids in the hall glared at me like I was something rotten. Whispers followed me, phones out, recording every second. It was like wearing a scarlet letter I could never scrub off.

My guaranteed admission to Northwestern vanished.

I’d worked for years for that offer. The email was still starred in my inbox. Now, with one accusation, my dream of a campus by Lake Michigan was gone, wiped out by a single call.

Classmates plastered my face all over social media—Instagram, TikTok, Snapchat—spreading rumors and hate until I was expelled.

It didn’t take long for my name to trend locally. Screenshots of my yearbook photo, wild threads, and memes flooded group chats. The principal called my mom while I was still in holding. By the next morning, my student ID was already canceled.

With nowhere left, my mom left a letter written in her own blood and livestreamed her suicide from the school roof, using her death to prove my innocence.

She was desperate—her love for me pushed past all reason. She scaled the faculty wing and made the whole world watch. Her letter was shaky but determined, her faith in me scrawled across the internet forever. Even then, I couldn’t reach her in time. The livestream froze on her face, brave and broken. Somewhere in the crowd, a siren wailed. I screamed her name, but the screen had already gone black.

Because of public outrage and no evidence, the police released me.

People on Facebook and TikTok started doubting the story. Podcasts, true crime threads—everyone had a theory. The police let me go quietly, but there was no homecoming, just the echo of an empty house.

But my life was already in ruins.

I wandered the aisles at Kroger, haunted by classmates’ laughter. Neighbors looked away. I was a ghost in the shadow of a lie.

College was out. My family was gone.

My mailbox stayed empty. Northwestern’s rejection was the last letter I ever opened. My mom’s room stayed frozen in time—her perfume on the curtains, her bed never made.

I tracked down the classmate who betrayed me, desperate for answers.

It took months, but I finally saw her again by the Starbucks where all the high schoolers hung out. My voice shook as I confronted her. People stared, but no one stepped in.

She told me the jerk was the richest kid in Maple Heights, and she couldn’t risk crossing him.

Her words were clipped and practiced. “His dad basically owns this town,” she muttered, money and power acting as her shield. Her hand shook on her designer bag.

"I still want to get into a good college. I can’t get mixed up in this."

She looked at me like I was crazy for not getting it. Her hand trembled as she checked her phone, like I was just a bad memory she wanted to delete.

"Besides, you chose to save me. I never asked you to. Who told you to stick your nose in?"

Her tone was cold, a sneer tugging at her lips. She barely glanced at me, already bored.

Just then, the jerk swaggered out of the shadows, threw his arm around her, and kissed her hard.

He wore a varsity jacket and a cocky smirk. I could smell his cologne from six feet away—loud, expensive, and arrogant. Their little show was for everyone on Main Street.

"So what if you get into college? You’ll just end up working overtime as a corporate drone at my dad’s company. Wouldn’t it be easier to just be a pampered girlfriend and chill?"

He flipped his car keys, the logo glinting, bragging without saying a word.

Her giggle was static in my ears. My anger and confusion turned to a dull ache. I felt unmoored, like I’d stepped outside my own life and couldn’t find the way back.

A blinding headache. The smell of gym socks. I was back—again. The day reset. The air outside the gym was crisp, the alley dark and familiar. I was at the fork in my fate.

This time, I ignored everything outside the window.

I gripped my backpack until my knuckles went white. My heart thundered with guilt and relief. I kept telling myself: This isn’t my fight.