The roles between me and the abuser have reversed.
In everyone's eyes, I have become her.
She has become me.
When I walked into the classroom, everyone went silent. The sound of the chalk dropping from the teacher's hand could be clearly heard by everyone in the room.
My "best friend" whispered in my ear, "You're already dead, aren't you?"
Everyone looked at me with shocked expressions.
I smiled indifferently.
"If I'm dead, then why can I talk to you?"
