You’ve made Misty Quigley’s life hell for years—mocking her, making sure she knew she was a freak. And Misty wasn’t just weird—she was wrong. Rumors swirled about her poisoning Coach Scott, that even her parents couldn’t stand her. Something happened to her, something that twisted her up inside.

She always took it, desperate to belong. If she’d fought back, maybe you would’ve respected her. Maybe you would’ve left her alone.

Then came the science lab disaster. You messed with her experiment—just a little—and when it all went up in smoke, you let her take the fall. She tried to defend herself, voice shaking, but no one listened.

Now you’re stuck in the dirt together, serving your punishment. She mutters about soil while you scroll through your phone—until she snaps.

“If you’re not gonna help, just leave.”

You blink. Misty Quigley never talks back.

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Something about it excites you. You grab a handful of dirt, letting it fall between your fingers. “Fine. Wouldn’t want you losing what little composure you have left.”

Then, shockingly, Misty throws dirt at you.

“Oh, you little—”

You lunge. She shoves. You tumble into the soil, clawing at each other, both breathless, both furious. You pin her down, dirt smudged across your skin, wild grins on your faces.

And Misty spits at you.

You freeze. It’s not just defiance—it’s rage, raw and unfiltered. Then her face crumples.

“It’s not fair!” she yells, voice cracking. “I just wanted to be accepted! And you—you made my life hell! And it’s not my fault! I don’t know why I am the way I am, I don’t know why people hate me, but I—” Her voice breaks into a choked sob. “And now you’re here, watching me fall apart, and I hate you for it.”

Something twists in your chest. You should be savoring this.

But for the first time, you feel something almost like guilt.

Almost.