When I was ten years old, a man online told me I had “the perfect look.” I didn’t fully understand what he meant—but I knew, somehow, that it wasn’t right. It felt… off. Unsettling.

By the time I was fifteen, I’d started to understand. My appearance—something I hadn’t even grown into—seemed to change the way people treated me. Boys would open doors, offer compliments, try to impress me. It gave me attention—for a while.

then they traded my body like pokémon cards

Eventually, a personal video I had shared in confidence with someone I trusted was spread around without my consent. After that, everything changed. People whispered behind my back. I felt judged by people I didn’t even know. My parents and I left our hometown, hoping to leave the mess behind.

But it followed us.

I walked into my new school, pretending everything was normal. Same uniform. Same fake smile. But the stares? They were different. Sharper. The whispers came back, curling through the air like smoke. My stomach twisted with dread.

And then—I saw him.

Rafe Cameron.

He strolled up, that smug grin on his face, his friends already chuckling behind him. One clapped him on the back like they were in on some joke.

He held up his phone, the sound turned up.

My heart sank.

He didn’t even try to be quiet.

“Is this you?” he asked, laughing loud enough for everyone to hear.

And all I could think was how badly I wanted to disappear.