Bully

Emma’s shoulders tensed. “Clara… I have to go.”

“Why? Why are you in such a hurry to go?” Clara’s voice rose. “Emma, don’t you dare cut this call.”

“I have to go. My roommate’s coming.”

“So what? Let them come. Introduce me to your roommate.”

“You don’t understand, Clara. ”

“Introduce me. Are you ashamed of me, Emma?”

“No! I’m not ashamed of you!”

“Then why?” Clara’s eyes narrowed. “You’re feeling insecure that I’m prettier than you, aren’t you? That when they see us on call they’ll say, ‘How did you two even become friends?’ Is that what you’re thinking?”

“No, Clara, that’s not...”

“Then why don’t you want me to meet your roommate? Why don’t you want to introduce me?”

Emma froze. Her hand hovered over the red button.

“Because… because Rebecca is here.”

Clara went dead silent.

“Wait. Rebecca… is your roommate?”

Emma nodded, barely. “Yes.”

“How is that even possible?” Clara whispered, disbelief turning to anger. “I don’t understand. How did that happen? She could not afford golden apartment or what? ”

“I don’t know,” Emma whispered back. “ I have to go, Clara. I can’t be on call with you right now.”

“Emma, wait”

But Emma had already ended the call.

The screen went black, and Clara was left staring at her own reflection, her chest tight with worry and anger.

Rebecca. In the same room. In the same dorm. After everything Rebecca had done to Emma in high school.

On the other side, Emma sat on her bed with her hoodie pulled tight around her, the phone pressed to her chest. She could already hear Rebecca’s footsteps outside the door, slow and deliberate, like she knew exactly what kind of fear she was bringing with her.

And for the first time since that lecture, Emma felt small again.

The door clicked open.

Emma didn’t need to look up. She knew that sound. The sharp, deliberate tap of heels against the tile floor.

Rebecca stepped in with Miriam at her shoulder, lips already curled into a smirk.

“Oh come on,” Rebecca said, voice dripping with mockery. “Look at the baby girl, curled up in her bed like a turtle in its shell. stand up, pretty girl. Beyoncé? Selena Gomez? The prettiest girl in the world?

Rebecca walked closer and nudged Emma’s bed with the pointed heel of her shoe.

“Stand up.”

Emma stayed where she was, hoodie pulled tight around her, knees tucked to her chest like she could fold herself into nothing and disappear.

Rebecca crouched down until her face was level with Emma’s, close enough that Emma could smell the sharp, expensive perfume clinging to her.

“Alex asked you a question, didn’t he? And you felt special.” Her voice was low,

. “Why won’t you look at me? You were staring at Alex earlier , weren’t you?Why can’t you look at me now, Emma? Look at me.”

Emma kept her eyes fixed on the frayed edge of her blanket. Her fingers gripped the fabric until her knuckles turned white.

“Rebecca,” she said quietly, barely above a whisper. “What do you want? I haven’t done anything to you. I don’t want to talk to you. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because I can’t.” Rebecca’s smile was sharp, cold, . “every time I see you, I feel sick. How did you even get into Columbia, huh? Did they start a charity program for lost causes?

just Look at you.” She gestured at Emma’s trembling frame, the oversized hoodie swallowing her whole. “And you really think Alex asked you that question because he likes you? You’re delusional.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the air before delivering the final blow.

“He’ll never look at you. You fat, gullible, ugly little thing. You think someone like Alex Maradona would ever notice someone like you?”