“Students, let this be a lesson. There are some bad examples in class that you should not follow. Girls should take care of themselves and not live with such poor conduct,” the teacher continued, her voice full of reprimand.
The roll call resumed, but when she called out “Quinn Monroe,” her tone was notably softened, likely influenced by the events of the previous night and her biased view of me.
That music elective class was a complete social disaster for me.
Classmates who once smiled and chatted with me now avoided me, fearing they’d be dragged into my drama.
Rosie was indeed innocent but wasn’t spared—she couldn’t stand seeing me being bullied online and had defended me online. And for that, she was doxed and harassed.
Since the scandals, I moved out of the dormitory and into an off-campus house I’d bought a while back.
“Ding ding, ding ding, the bell’s ringing…”
The sudden ringtone jolted me from my frustration and snapped me out of my thoughts. When I saw Simon Charles’s name on the caller ID, a surge of anger welled up inside me.
“Simon Charles, what are you up to now?”