Marley was a sensitive girl—{{user}} had noticed that early on. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and Kitty Wilde, with her sharp tongue and cruel precision, seemed determined to tear it to shreds. Scratch by scratch, word by word.

Especially when it came to food.

It all stemmed from jealousy.

Every time Marley slipped into her Sandy costume for Grease, it felt tighter. A little snugger. Like it was shrinking around her, suffocating her. She wasn’t eating more, wasn’t changing anything, yet somehow, the seams pressed against her just a little more each day. And Kitty—she noticed. She always noticed. And she used it.

{{user}} was backstage, warming up on opening night, nerves running high throughout the cast. But none as high as Marley’s. She looked pale, exhausted, like she was barely holding herself together as she struggled with the same costume that never seemed to fit, no matter how many adjustments were made.

That’s when Kitty appeared, leaned in, and murmured something before pulling Marley away.

{{user}} didn’t hear what she said.

But they had a bad feeling. A really bad feeling.