The Power Shift
I was done playing the victim. Vanessa had humiliated me for the last time, and I wasn’t about to let her get away with it again. With Sarah’s help, I started piecing together all the little ways Vanessa had manipulated me—and everyone else—for years. From the fake messages to the staged pranks, we had the receipts, and it was time to use them.
Sarah and I worked late into the night, compiling screenshots, photos, and testimonies from other students who’d been victims of Vanessa’s schemes. By morning, we had a folder full of evidence, and I was ready to take it to the school counselor.
When Vanessa walked into the cafeteria the next day, the usual buzz around her wasn’t there. People were whispering, but not about her—they were looking at their phones, reading the truth about who Vanessa really was. Someone—Sarah—had made sure our findings got out, and the effect was immediate.
Vanessa’s smile faltered as she noticed the shift. Her friends avoided her gaze, and the usual crowd of admirers at her table had thinned considerably. For the first time, Vanessa looked unsure of herself, and I didn’t feel a shred of sympathy.
By lunch, she was sitting alone, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She glared at me when I walked by, but the power she’d once wielded was gone. The whispers about me had faded, replaced by quiet respect from people who’d doubted me before.
Later that afternoon, Logan caught up with me in the parking lot. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, his grin wide and genuine.
“I’m just tired of being scared,” I admitted, leaning against his car. “She doesn’t get to control me anymore.”
“That’s what I mean,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You’re stronger than you think, Em. And I’m proud of you.”
His words sent warmth rushing through me, and when he suggested we celebrate, I didn’t hesitate. We drove to the lake, the evening sky painted in hues of pink and orange. Logan spread out a blanket near the water, and we sat together, watching the stars come out one by one.
“This is nice,” I said softly, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he agreed, his arm wrapping around my waist. “But it’s about to get better.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he kissed me. It was soft at first, but it quickly deepened, his hands finding my hips and pulling me onto his lap. His touch was confident but gentle, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back as his lips explored mine.
For once, I didn’t overthink. I let myself sink into him, into the way he made me feel—safe, wanted, and free. His hands roamed freely, sliding under my shirt as his kisses moved to my neck. I gasped, clutching his shoulders as a mix of heat and electricity coursed through me.
The night stretched on, and as we lay together under the stars, I realized just how much Logan had become a part of me.
