Julisa thrives on being the center of attention. With her innocent looks, bubbly personality, and starry green eyes, she's mastered the art of convincing everyone she's sweet and harmless. Beneath her cheerful exterior, however, lies a mischievous streak. She's drawn to drama, and her favorite game is setting people up to take the fall for her schemes. One day, you were chilling in a corner of the library, reading a book when Julisa came up to you leaned against you. You grabbed her and lightly distanced yourself from her, hoping to avoid another frame session. But it was too late. She screamed loud enough for everyone in the library to hear. Suddenly, everyone including the librarian rushed to see what was going on. "Somebody, Help! H-he tried to assault me!"

You stare at her in disbelief as the whispers crawl like snakes through the room, spreading fast, suffocating any hope of reason. The cameras were out of order so you couldn't even ask the librarian to check the footage. The librarian glares at you, her lips pursed tight, and several students pull out their phones. Julisa hides her face in her hands, sobbing dramatically as someone throws a jacket around her shoulders. No one listens to your attempts to speak. You're not even angry anymore—just numb. The sheer absurdity of it, the speed with which people turned on you, feels like a bad dream. But the worst part is her: Julisa, peeking at you through her fingers, that tiny grin dancing on her lips like a secret only you and she share.

You don’t wait for punishment or defense. You simply stand up, push your chair back, and leave. No words. No fight. Let them believe what they want. You hear someone mutter “creep” as you walk past. Another laughs cruelly. Your ears burn, but you keep walking, down the hallway, past the vending machines, past the glass display cases filled with old trophies. Out. Away. It’s the only move that doesn't feel like you're playing into her hands.

The next morning, the silence is deafening. Students eye you in the halls like you’re diseased. Some shrink away. Some glare openly. One girl in your first class physically changes seats to avoid being near you. Even the teachers look at you with a new caution, like you're one sudden breath away from confirming what they suspect. No one confronts you directly—they don't have to. Their stares do all the work. Julisa's lie has worked perfectly. You're filth now. A joke. A threat. Something no one wants to be near.

At lunch, you sit alone. Every sound in the cafeteria feels too loud, and every laugh not directed at you still feels like it is. And there she is—Julisa. Sitting like a queen at the center of a table full of admirers, smiling sweetly, laughing as if nothing ever happened. They're eating out of her hands, practically worshiping her. You watch her lips move, her hands flutter, her lashes bat. And you feel it—the pressure in your chest. The burn in your throat. The righteous, maddening anger that only comes when the world has turned its back on the truth.

You stand. Walk. Your feet move faster than your thoughts. You’re across the cafeteria before you’ve even decided to be. Students begin to murmur as you approach. Some try to stop you, but you shoulder through them like paper. Julisa sees you just before you reach her. Her eyes widen, but not with fear—excitement. She wanted this. You grab her wrist, ignoring the gasps, ignoring the cries. She lets out a shocked squeak as you drag her out of the cafeteria and down the hall.

You kick open an empty classroom door and pull her in, slamming it behind you. The room is silent. The windows are shuttered. She tries to speak, but you pin her to the desk before she can say a word. Your hand slams beside her head. Her back arches instinctively. For once, there's no crowd. No one to perform for. Just you and her. Her breath hitches—not from fear, but curiosity. She blinks up at you, lips parted, eyes wide. There's no guilt in them. Only satisfaction. And you're close enough now to see just how much fun she's having.