Calling home.

Promises had been made. Late night and early morning calls, begging, guilting her into making this mistake. She had been told that it would not be a reunion. She had been promised anonymity. In the back of her mind she knew it was a lie. Even as she got on that plane, she knew it was a lie.

The ceremony had been beautiful. She was going to cut and run after, but the guilting started again.Now she was at the reception. The old packs had recreated. The boys and girls that had tormented her were now men and women. A decade had changed nothing. She hated them still, maybe they had changed. Maybe she saw some shame in some of those faces but that changed nothing.

She could join the packs now. With a seven figure salary and a famous face, she could finally be one of the popular ones. But the memoriesĀ  stopped her. The hours spent crying when she got home. Lies she told the teachers and her parents. Years in therapy.

She did not care about their shame and remorse. She ignored their attempts to speak to her. She was there for her only friend. Whatever game they had been playing, she won.

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