A Heart Torn by Betrayal

When a group of girls dragged me into the restroom by force, Channing stood in the hallway, smiling as bright as a summer's day.

I didn't even have time to figure out why he was there before Jennifer Haley, his childhood friend, yanked my hair so hard I had to tilt my head back.

"You cheap little wretch! Did you really think Channing would fall for someone like you?" she sneered.

In my trembling hands was the strawberry cake I had made for Channing. Just the day before, he had told me it was his favorite, and I had worked all night to prepare it.

Jennifer snatched the cake from my grasp and hurled it to the ground. The cream splattered everywhere.

She signaled her cronies to pin me down. Then she pressed her foot against the side of my face, grinding it into the floor.

"Unless you lick this mess off the floor clean today, tomorrow I'll make you lick the toilet!" she hissed.

From my angle on the floor, I could see Channing lighting a cigarette. His gaze flitted toward me, cold and detached. The smoke began to blur his face, veiling him in a cloud that hid not just his expression but his true intentions.

Just moments ago, he had been the boy who said he liked me. Now, he was the mastermind of this humiliation.

When I didn't move, Jennifer pressed harder.

"Are you deaf? Or do I need to shove it down your throat with a toilet brush? Huh?"

Tears streaming down my face, I opened my mouth and slowly licked the cream from the floor, swallowing every ounce of my pride along with it.

Channing, apparently annoyed by the delay, walked into the restroom. Desperation flared in me, and I grabbed his pant leg like a drowning person clinging to driftwood.

Even then, I wanted to believe in him.

But he merely plucked the cigarette from his lips and dropped it onto the back of my hand before crushing it underfoot.

"No—Channing, don't—" I cried out in pain, not knowing whether it was my body or my heart that hurt more.

He dismissed the girls with a wave, and soon, it was just the two of us in the restroom.

Curled up on the floor, I clutched myself and looked up at him, my voice breaking as I asked, "Why? Why are you doing this?"

He let out a cold laugh.

"Does the name Eliza Waltz ring a bell? She was my sister."

My mind froze.

Two years ago, Eliza had been raped and later committed suicide. The accused? My brother.

But I knew my brother would never do such a thing! Whatever made him confess, it had to be something unspeakable. Before he was taken away, he'd clung to me, tears streaming down his face as he said, "I didn't do it, Amanda. Trust me."

He was sentenced to fifteen years but died in prison less than a year later from illness.

So Channing's warmth, his special attention, his seeming affection—all of it had been an elaborate prelude to this moment, where he could exact revenge for his sister.

He had comforted me with the kindest part of himself, only to tear open my wounds with the cruelest.

Channing, you truly understand how to take revenge.

He stepped on my back and leaned down, his voice deliberate, each word a knife carving into my soul.

"Your brother's dead, so you'll take his punishment for him. Don't worry. I'll make sure every second of your life is so painful, you'll wish you were dead."

Then he chuckled darkly, sending a chill down my spine. "But don't you dare die. After all, you wouldn't want anything to happen to your dear father, would you?"

My father was locked away in the Haley family's private sanatorium, already half-mad. I couldn't let anything else happen to him. I couldn't.