Where the Curse Falls
My roommate branded herself as an influencer against beauty standards, vowing to free girls from appearance anxiety.
Strangely, whenever she stayed up late partying and broke out in pimples, they would appear on my face instead.
When she fooled around and caught an infection, the rashes spread across my body.
The more radiant she became, the more monstrous I looked.
People recoiled from me. Friends cut me off. My own boyfriend, before a crowd, told me I should just die.
Then my roommate got pregnant, yet it was my stomach that swelled like I was eight months along, scarred with terrifying stretch marks. She, meanwhile, looked more flawless than ever, appearing barefaced on camera to encourage girls not to fear their looks.
I knew something was not right.
When I tried to dig for answers, my roommate and boyfriend trapped me in a basement.
They tortured me until I died.
Only then did I learn the truth.
He owned a cursed amulet that shifted all her pain onto me.
The moment I opened my eyes, I was back on our first day of college together.
This time, the game is mine.
I'll make sure they pay.