It was her nude picture.

It was there, for everyone to see.

Bile, sharp and acidic, rose in her throat. But it got worse. So much worse.

Below the photo were screenshots of text messages. Edited, fabricated messages, designed to look like they were from her phone to Adrian’s.

[Fake Elara]: I saw you with Chloe today. You look so good together.

[Fake Elara]: I know I shouldn’t text you but I can’t help it. I want you so much.

[Fake Elara]: Please, Adrian. I’ll do anything. Just give me a chance.

[Fake Elara]: [Image Attached] Isn’t this what you want? You once mentioned you loved my body shape. It’s still yours. Please.

It made it look like she had never had a thing to do with him. Like she was so obsessed with him to be able to send a nude photo to a guy who is in a relationship with her best friend.

She strolled down to see the various comments condemning her ‘supposed’ action.

“HOLY SHIT. I can’t believe she actually sent that.”

“This is so pathetic. Get a grip, Elara.”

“Wow, so she’s not just a liar, she’s a psycho too.”

“Someone better report this to the campus authorities. This is harassment.”

“Poor Adrian and Chloe. They must be so creeped out.”

“I always knew there was something off about her.”

“Blocking her right now. This is disgusting.”

She watched, paralyzed as her name was dragged through the mud by people she had sometimes sat next to in class, shared notes with, and laughed with. Even people she had never spoken to dropped their two cents.

A new notification popped up. A direct message on social media from a girl in her history seminar.

“You’re a sick freak. Kill yourself.”

One by one, her social media accounts were unfriended, blocked. Her individual texts to people she thought knew her better went unanswered, or were met with a single, cold sentence before the block.

“I think you need help, Elara.”

“Don’t contact me again.”

“I’m so disappointed in you.”

Her phone began to ring again. It was a number she didn’t recognize. She declined the call, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped the phone. Immediately, it rang again. Another unknown number.

They weren’t calling to check on her. They were probably calling to harass her.

Elara groaned, throwing the phone away. It skittered across the floor and under the table.

She curled into a tight ball on her mattress, pulling the thin blanket over her head. But it was no use. The phone pinged repeatedly.

She broke down, hugging her knees.

Adrian and Chloe hadn’t just broken up with her and taken her money. They had completely destroyed her. They had taken her most vulnerable moment and weaponized it, twisting it into an image that made her the villain, an obsessed creep.

She was trapped. There was no one to tell. No one would believe her. Their evidence was right there, plastered for everyone to see. She was utterly, completely alone in a world that now saw her as a pathetic weirdo.

After a while, she dressed up to go to her next lecture that afternoon. The lecturer had informed them in his former class that they would be test. The moment she stepped into the hall, a hush fell over the clusters of students. Hushed whispers followed as she approached.

They stared with open curiosity and disdain.

She could barely last ten minutes in the lecture hall, before she gathered her things and fled.

The lecture hall door swung shut behind Elara, cutting off the muffled whispers. She leaned against the cold wall, her knees trembling, trying to catch her breath. She had just failed a major test. But it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

She had to get out of the building. She started walking, her head down, hoping not to be noticed.

But that’s like wishing for an elephant to fly.

A group of three girls from her sociology class stood few miles away, by the water fountain, discussing. She recognized them as they were once friends with her. They are part of Chloe’s wider social circle.

As Elara tried to slip past, one of them, a blondie named Brittany, stepped directly into her path.

“Well, look who it is,” Brittany sneered. “The campus slut.”

“Please, just let me go.” Elara pleaded, trying to side-step her.

Another girl, Megan, moved to block her other side. “What’s the matter? Not in the mood to show us your goods today?” she asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

“I didn’t do anything,” Elara whispered, her voice trembling. The words felt useless.

“That’s not what the group chat says,” the third girl laughed. “Seems like you’re desperate for any attention you can get.”

They began to close in, pulling her away from the main corridor and toward the women’s restroom.

Panic seized Elara’s chest. “Where are you taking me? Leave me alone! Please!”

“We just want to talk,” Brittany said, smiling smugly. She shoved the restroom door open and pushed Elara inside. Elara stumbled, catching herself on a sink.

“Please,” she begged, turning to face them. Tears were already welling in her eyes. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Trouble?” Megan laughed. “You are trouble yet you’re making all of us girls look bad.”

Brittany grabbed a handful of Elara’s hair and yanked her head back. “Maybe you need a little cold water to cool down those desperate urges.”

They chuckled as they started dragging her toward the last stall. Elara fought, scratching and kicking, but there were three of them.

“Let me go!” She screamed, tears already trailing down her cheeks.

“Hold her still!” Brittany grunted, shoving the stall door open. The toilet bowl, dirty and stained, loomed below.

This was it. They were really going to do it. The humiliation she had been facing since morning was already so heartbreaking, it stole the air from her lungs. Now, she is going to be dipped headfirst into a public toilet.