Chapter Text
"Hey, Pancake... Could you please check if my iron is hot enough?"
At twenty-five, Rey had started to seriously mess up her life. Nothing mattered to her anymore, she just wanted to forget the hell she was living in, by any means necessary. Even if the pain of remembering always came back, again and again, once the fleeting frenzy had passed. She drank, squandered the money she earned working hard at the garage, hung out in seedy clubs, and had sex with strangers. Only in the dark, never undressing, and making sure they were drunk enough not to ask too many questions in case they saw the marks covering her body.
One night, after a very drunken evening, Rey had woken up in an alleyway among the trash. A horrible stench assaulted her nostrils and a dreadful migraine was piercing her skull. She must have looked like a real slob. Like she belonged there amid the garbage. Like a worn-out toy thrown away after no one cares about it anymore. Her skin hurt. Her forearms and legs itched terribly. She scratched instinctively, frantically. It was worse than usual, even if she was used to this constant suffering. But tonight, she felt like she had truly hit rock bottom. Even though she had always believed she couldn't sink any lower.
If only she could rip the flesh from her bones. Would she finally get some respite that way?
Rey burst into tears, still lying limply like a broken doll on the icy asphalt. She wanted to scream, but her voice stuck in her throat. The winter wind blew through her tangled brown hair, turning her cheeks pink. A few snowflakes swirled around her. She was shivering. She couldn't take it anymore. She felt so dirty. So miserable. So ridiculous. And her pain was becoming more and more unbearable. She needed to buy hydrogen peroxide and ointment for burns to relieve the itching. But the pharmacy wouldn't open until nine in the morning. And then... What was the point? Even if the scars on her skin healed one day, it wouldn't erase the ones that marked her soul. Her mind. Her entire being. Never.
On the other hand, the river was only a twenty-minute walk away, this crazy idea crossed her mind. It would be quicker. Much simpler. It was the only solution. Everything would finally stop. She would be free. So, twenty minutes later, Rey found herself standing on the riverbank, staring at the dark waves ready to engulf her. She had filled the pockets of her parka with heavy stones. And as she contemplated her deliverance, a few images came back to her, echoes of the past. The ones that had been tormenting her for the previous eight years. The laughter. The blows. The hands under her skirt. Under her shirt. The outbursts of frighteningly familiar voices. Flat as a pancake. The cigarettes. The curling iron. The snow. The fire. The roof. The fall. Glass shattering into a thousand pieces. A golden-brown gaze darkening with pleasure, sparkling with sadism. And that smile. That damn, wicked smile.
Her filthy little bitch's smirk.
The bridge in the distance was beautifully lit. Daybreak would soon follow. The fog was so thick that Rey couldn't make out the city rising on the other side. Trembling, she wiped her nose. She was no longer crying. Her tears had dried on her cheeks and her puffy eyes now shone with determination. A strength she had never felt before was now overwhelming her. The young woman sniffed, took a deep breath, and cautiously moved toward the water. It would be freezing, but it would relieve her burns, and then it would all be over for good. She would be free.
An unpleasant chill ran through her the moment the icy water lapped at her ankles and seeped into her shoes. It was a most unpleasant sensation, but Rey didn't care. With her eyes on the horizon, she walked forward confidently, her fists clenched. She waded in until she was knee-deep, then thigh-deep. When the water reached her waist, the stones in her pockets began to pull her down. Rey grimaced, nearly losing her balance, but she held on. A hint of fear told her to turn back. She ignored it. Her determination to end it all, coupled with her burning desire for freedom, was stronger. She had to keep going.
But the deeper she went, the harder it was to move forward in the water, which gradually slowed her down. Her teeth chattering, she raised her arms, took long strides, and swayed awkwardly from side to side. Be brave. She was almost there. She could hardly feel the burning in her legs anymore. Actually, she already felt nothing. Nothing at all. The water would purify her, like a newborn at its baptism. She would disappear beneath the surface. And then all those years of torture, harassment, misery, and silence at high school, that continued to haunt her and prevent her from returning to a normal life, would also disappear. For good.
"Hey!"
Suddenly pulled out of her thoughts, Rey realized she wasn't alone in the area. She stopped dead in her tracks. The swirling and splashing didn't stop. Someone was approaching, trying to run toward her, though now slowed down by the water. Frightened and shocked to be caught like this, the young woman froze in terror. She didn't dare move a muscle. It was as if she hoped she could disappear from reality. Then someone pounced on her. Two strong arms wrapped around her frail body, enveloping her, pressing her against a broad, hard chest. The next second, Rey felt herself being pulled toward the shore.
At first, she tried to struggle, but it was in vain. She was exhausted. Her providential savior, as sturdy as he seemed, still had a hard time bringing her back to dry land. However, he succeeded through sheer perseverance. It was only after they reached the shore that the stranger finally let go of her. They collapsed together on the pebbles, panting, their hearts pounding, and tried to catch their breath to recover from their emotions.
Rey immediately felt an immense sense of emptiness. She looked up at the night sky and saw a few stars through the clouds obscuring it. New tears stung her eyes. She had failed. She was worthless. Not even capable of succeeding at suicide. Then she remembered her savior.
"Damn it," he growled, sitting up. "Why did you do that? Huh? Why?"
"And you?" Rey wanted to reply, as angry and desperate as he was. "Why couldn't you just let me die?" She said nothing. He grabbed her by the shoulders to make her look him in the eye. He was younger than she'd thought at first. He was a teenager, tall and lanky, but she wouldn't have guessed at him being more than seventeen. The age at which her own life had stopped.
Despite the darkness, she noticed his messy black hair, his pale complexion, and... his bruises. He had a swollen eye, a cut on his lip and on his cheekbone with dried blood. He looked like he had been in a fight. Unless he had been the one solely beaten up. Rey's heart sank instantly. A tear rolled down her cheek. Was he being bullied at school, too? Maybe he'd just had an accident. However, the young woman's doubts grew as she looked at the one who had just saved her life. But what life?
"You're asking me?" she stammered, blinking, before pointing to his bare feet. "You don't even have shoes. And your coat looks heavy; it must weigh a ton! Once it got wet, it could have dragged you straight to the bottom of the river."
"I'm wet because I had to dive in to save you!" the boy said impatiently, with a mixture of reproach and concern.
This answer didn't convince Rey at all. Little by little, an ironic smile appeared on her chapped lips. Did he really want her to believe that he had taken the time to take off his shoes before rushing to her rescue, but not his coat? And how had he been able to run to her so quickly? He wasn't coming from the riverbank, no. He was already in the water and certainly not for a midnight swim. This moved her and the brunette stared at him with a certain tenderness and deep compassion. It was both pathetic and very touching.
"We... We had the same idea... Didn't we?"
The stranger turned pale. His hands tightened on her shoulders. He swallowed hard and bit his cheek. She didn’t need him to answer.
"It's poetic, in a way," Rey added thoughtfully.
With that, she looked away and admired the reflection of the bridge lights in the dark water. Her savior finally sighed. He could have been content with his own fate but had chosen to interfere with hers. Why? And what exactly had led him to such a desperate choice, originally? What had happened to him? What had been done to him? Questions swarmed endlessly in Rey's mind. A great sadness now overwhelmed her. Not just for herself, but for him too. There was a distress he was trying so hard to hide. The teenager hesitated for a moment, then stifled a nervous laugh.
"I don't know about you, but... I think the water is really too cold. I don't want to drown in there."
Again, he urged Rey to meet his gaze, brushing her chin to turn her head. She shivered, but the icy wind blowing through her damp clothes was no longer the only cause. He offered her a wistful smile.
"We shouldn't do this tonight. What do you think? Let's just wait a while and... see what happens, and worst-case scenario… we'll die in the spring. Okay?"
Poor guy... She really felt sorry for him. But on the other hand, his words had managed to comfort her slightly. They stayed like that for a moment, suspended on the bank, staring into each other's eyes, listening only to their own breathing and the lapping of the water. The snowflakes fluttered around them, sprinkling their hair. Then Rey shuddered and called herself to order. Her defense mechanisms took over again. It was strange how easily the door had opened, but it closed again with a bang, double-locking. She couldn't let her guard down. Not even for him.
"Okay."
The young woman leapt to her feet, stepped back and fled.
"Wait!" the boy shouted in a panicked voice. "Come back!"
She quickened her pace, running as fast as she could, as her clothes froze to her skin, gracing her with yet another unpleasant sensation. In the morning, she went to the pharmacy to buy the ointment, and on the way home, her thoughts remained in turmoil. Maybe she should have stayed with this stranger just as suicidal as her, talked to him, got to know him, and found out why he'd wanted to end his life, too. Maybe she should have done that instead of isolating herself as usual.
She thought she was invisible and insignificant in everyone's eyes... Yet he had seen her. He had shown her a kindness that, in her opinion, could not possibly exist. It was only an absurd and illusory concept, an unreal, invented, utopian thing. At least, as far as she was concerned. This boy had thought, unlike so many others, that her life was worthwhile. She'd never imagined it was possible until now.
Yes. She should have stayed. She should have clung to this person and never let go. Because then she would no longer be alone. This dreadful solitude, worse than any contempt, cruelty or indifference, weighed on her more than anything else. It had always been her biggest burden. It probably weighed on him too. She could have made a friend in him. They could have overcome this together in the already insane prospect that such a thing could be achieved. But instead, she'd run away. Out of fear. She'd ruined everything.
It was too late now.
That said, her encounter with this boy, the fact that he had ironically decided to save her, had to be a sign. A sign of hope. A message from Heaven. It had made her realize, after much thought, something essential, that she simply couldn't do this. At least, not yet. Not for a long time. It wouldn't be right. Was she really going to give up and let all her former tormentors get away with it? Was she going to let them win once and for all?
"No," Rey mused, as hatred, gall and resolution flowed through her veins like molten lava. "No, my dear Bazine. I'm not the one who deserves to die here."
This sudden, violent, burning need for vengeance, for justice, had just given her one last reason to cling to life. So, no. She wouldn't kill herself the following spring like that unfortunate soul she'd met. That'd have to wait for several more springs, probably. In truth, Rey didn't really know if she'd take her own life once she'd triumphed, and welcome the long-awaited, liberating death. But one thing was certain. She wouldn't die until she'd made them all pay for their crimes.
Every last one of them.
***
Eight years later
Twilight filtered through the large windows of the faculty building, flooding the lecture hall. The rows of wooden tables creaked under the rustling of papers and the scratching of pens. Standing on the podium, Rey began the chapter on Gothic novels. Armed with her small remote control, she scrolled through the slides on the huge digital board, and her students silently took notes on each of her explanations. Her Tuesday evening class ran from 7:00 p.m. to 9:45 p.m., and she knew that all the students were already tired from their long day. She hoped she would still be able to spark at least a little interest.
"Now, tell me... How does architecture contribute to the atmosphere in Gothic novels?" she asked.
Immediately, a hand shot up on the right. The teacher saw it out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't need to turn around to guess who it was. She suppressed a tender smile. Him again.
"Yes, Ben?"
"Castles and manors aren't just scenery," Ben Solo rattled off. "They embody the ghosts of the past, the characters' obsessions and fears, hold their darkest secrets, and sometimes they seem almost... alive. Like characters in their own right. In fact, these manors are often destroyed at the end of the story, or abandoned. When the truth finally comes out."
Rey nodded, her heart light. The young man lowered his arm, only to raise it again a second later, holding his breath.
"Oh! And..."
"Wait, Ben, I'd like to hear from those who haven't said as much," his teacher interjected, before turning to the rest of the lecture hall. "Do you have any other ideas? Any at all?"
Gradually, other hesitant hands went up, and she questioned them with joy. She hoped Ben wouldn't be too disappointed. She was very fond of this student, so bright, attentive, and enthusiastic, and seeing him every Tuesday evening brought a breath of fresh air to her dreary daily routine. There was a liveliness and clarity in his contributions that genuinely delighted her. It was a real pleasure to have someone respond to her passion in this way, to feel that her class was touching at least one participant.
At a quarter to ten, Rey finally let her students leave. She sat down at her desk to tidy up her things and the room gradually emptied. Ben was the last to leave, but before going out, he made a detour to the podium. Undoubtedly, he wanted to talk to her again after class. Rey noticed her reflection in the window beside her and absentmindedly combed her very short brown hair with her fingertips. Then she smoothed her jacket, the jacket of one of her trademark black suits, and turned her attention back to her student who had just joined her, with feigned surprise.
"Oh, Ben! Have you started the book I lent you?"
He was holding Jane Eyre close to his chest. A smile played on his full lips.
"Yes, actually, I came to bring it back to you."
"Already?"
"I devoured it in one night," Ben admitted.
The teacher raised her eyebrows, frankly impressed. His enthusiasm for this kind of literature was so touching.
Oh... I see. I understand, but... I hope it didn't interfere with your sleep too much. I'd hate to..."
"No, don't worry about that," the student reassured her. "However, I did have a question. In chapter 27, when Rochester threatens Jane with violence if she leaves him... In this edition, there is a footnote that specifies that it was a threat of rape. This passage made me uncomfortable and left me a little perplexed. Was that really the author's intention, or is this just a matter of interpretation?"
As he spoke, he opened the novel and pointed to the passage in question. Rey frowned and grimaced.
"I'm not sure, to be honest. Unfortunately, we can't ask Charlotte Brontë anymore. But Rochester is the perfect embodiment of the Byronic hero, you know."
"Yes, I remember," Ben sighed. "Either way, it's still horrible. In my opinion, Jane did the right thing by running away. But Saint John isn't much better. First of all, his name is Saint John..."
The thirty-year-old woman chuckled softly at this comment.
"Jane deserves so much better than those two jerks," her student concluded. "And if I were her, I wouldn't have forgiven her aunt for mistreating her so badly as a child."
It was touching that he had become so attached to the heroine. So protective. After all, she was an incredible woman, with an iron will and admirable integrity. Ben spoke of Jane as if she were a real person, as if he, too, had experienced injustice firsthand.
"She doesn't exactly forgive her," Rey pointed out thoughtfully, melancholically. "She doesn't forget the cruelty of her awful Aunt Reed, but morally upright as she is, she can't sacrifice her values, and so she refuses to let hatred and resentment consume her forever..."
But unfortunately, not everyone can be Jane Eyre. Ben nodded, also thinking.
"That said, after reading Rebecca, Rochester remains a thousand times more interesting than Maxim de Winter," he continued. "Because that guy... What a piece of shit... Sorry."
Confused, he blushed. But his frankness amused Rey.
"You're right. There are quite a few similarities between Jane Eyre and Rebecca. They're two of my favorite Gothic novels."
With the tips of his fingers, Ben stroked the cover of the book. A soft glow burned in his amber eyes.
"Me too. In fact, I was thinking of comparing the two works in a future thesis."
"That would be an interesting exercise, indeed. I'll be happy to read it."
Seeing his professor's obvious interest, he bit his lip shyly and ran a hand through his ebony hair, feeling a little nervous. Then he realized he was still clutching the book to his chest. "Oh..." was all he said. He handed the book back to Rey. She reached out to take it. But as she did so, her sleeve revealed the old burn scar on the top of her wrist. This realization had the effect of an electric shock. She recoiled sharply, as if a poisonous snake had bitten her, and dropped Jane Eyre, which fell to the floor.
Ben knelt down to pick it up, and she did the same. Their fingers brushed against each other. They shuddered and their eyes met. The woman swallowed hard. The student smiled faintly and handed her the novel as if nothing had happened, and she took it. Her throat went dry. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest. Cold sweat ran down her neck. Ben was kind enough not to comment on her scar. Had he seen it? Usually, people were polite enough not to make such remarks. He'd probably just ignored this detail.
Rey knew of a student, a colleague's student, whom she had never spoken to, who had old self-harm marks on her wrists. No one had ever asked her about them, as if they didn't exist. In any case, the poor girl did nothing to hide them. Perhaps she had accepted them. Did she, too, feel like she could hear other people's thoughts when they saw her scars? Did it make her anxious? Rey wondered what on earth Ben was thinking right now. To be honest, she'd rather not know.
"I... Thank you," she whispered, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second.
The young man nodded, waited a moment, then stood up and casually slung his bag over his shoulder. Rey sat back down and focused on gathering her things.
"Have a good evening, Miss Niima."
His voice was soft, almost too soft, as if he were afraid of startling her. Then he turned on his heel and walked down the steps of the podium. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the empty auditorium, reverberating unevenly off the high, cold walls. She watched him, all too aware of how her heart was still beating in her chest, too fast, too hard.
When Ben reached the swinging door at the back of the room, he glanced back one last time, with a fleeting look that could have meant a thousand things. She gave him a simple wave. He nodded in reply and left. The dull thud of the door closing fell like a tear in the silence.
Rey remained motionless, frozen where he had left her, her trembling hands clutching the novel. Panting. A lump formed in her throat. She took a deep breath. Once. Twice. She caught sight of her reflection in the window. And she saw the person she no longer wanted to be. The person she thought she had buried long ago. The person she hid deep inside, beneath the hardened shell she had built around herself in recent years. Rey closed her eyes.
"It's nothing," she murmured to herself. "Nothing at all. Pull yourself together, come on."
***
"The fog warning issued by the weather services yesterday remains in effect. In some areas, visibility is reduced to less than fifty meters. Did you know that thick fog can cause a plane to crash? More so than lightning or hurricanes? Although the number of road accidents is higher on sunny days, the number of fatal accidents reaches record levels in foggy weather. Be extremely careful if you are driving. And above all, take care of yourself."
Perched on her high heels, dressed in an elegant sky-blue dress, her back straight, her fingers intertwined on her stomach, a dazzling smile on her lips, the weather presenter concludes:
"This is Bazine Netal, signing off. Have a marvelous night, Exegol!"
A pathetic catchphrase to conclude each of her performances. Do your fans know that you don't even write your own scripts, Bazine? Do they even imagine that you're a real meteorologist and not just a smiling doll cheerfully reciting the text in front of her? Sitting on the floor, her legs tucked up against her body, Rey grabbed her remote control and turned off the television. Darkness engulfed her living room. Only the pale rays of moonlight filtered through the blinds on her windows.
She never missed the weather report, watching it every morning and every night, before and after work. It was a way to fuel her hatred and determination. Bazine had better enjoy the fog while it lasted. Because the second her nemesis dispelled it, it would be the end for her.
Rey got up and walked over to her photo wall. She had pinned all the pictures of her prey collected from their social media accounts there, along with handwritten notes, diagrams, and arrows. A red string connected the thumbtacks together. This created a complex picture of each bully, their entourage, and the perfect life they displayed on their various accounts. Every detail recorded with precision, every connection traced, fed into Rey's strategy.
In the center appeared Bazine Netal, her harmonious features framed by long, smooth, chestnut hair with slight copper highlights. Her peachy skin emphasized her deep, expressive golden irises. Just below her left eye, two charming little moles added a unique and delicate touch to her face. Her full lips stretched to reveal two rows of magnificently aligned white teeth. A beauty beyond words. A mask of kindness and perfection. Because everything about her was fake, nothing but artifice and illusion. The tempting icing on a poisoned cake. Rey glanced at the other profiles surrounding her.
Dopheld Mitaka, now a private driver and unofficial drug dealer. On Instagram, he only posted black and white photos of himself half-naked and his tattoos to project an artistic vibe. A bitter loser who couldn't revel in absolute luxury like some of his friends, and a sexual predator as well. To be honest, Rey assumed he had done much worse to other girls after high school. With her, he'd been content to grope her breasts and buttocks when he wasn't forcing her to kiss him. And when he wasn't using her as a punching bag for the sole purpose of "practicing karate moves".
Chesille Sabrond. Flight attendant. Addicted to her phone. Truth be told, Rey couldn't remember if she had ever spoken to her directly. She’d just filmed all the abuse the others subjected her to, and eventually posted the videos on a dedicated forum. She didn't come from a wealthy background compared to the three of her friends and worked hard to get their attention. She worshiped them and followed them like a sheep. A pathetic wannabe famous girl.
Lusica Stynnix. The right-hand woman of the gang leader. She'd already been a drug addict at the time. A Pastor's daughter. A daddy's girl. An artist, who wanted to make a living from her paintings but was far too dependent on money from her dear parents. They went to great lengths to avoid scandal whenever she abused illicit substances a little too much at parties. Rey remembered her nasal voice as she’d called her "Pancake". How ironic, given that Lusica was even less curvaceous than she was. But any excuse had been good enough to pick on their favorite whipping girl and stub out her cigarettes on her arms.
Armitage Hux. Rich heir to a golf club and owner of a luxury clothing store. In high school, when Bazine, his girlfriend at the time, and the rest of his gang tortured Rey, he'd done nothing. And that was the problem. In the gym, he'd had fun throwing the basketball into the hoop, completely indifferent. A silent witness. A passive accomplice. However, that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.
In fact, his father, Brendol Hux, had cheated on his wife, Maratelle, with a cleaning lady. This made Armitage an illegitimate child. Apparently, his classmates had liked to call him a bastard during his childhood. In high school, however, he'd no longer let them get away with it. One student had had the misfortune of making a comment to him, without any malicious intent, and Armitage had, in short, lost his temper. Rey wondered if he would have beaten her up and sent her to the emergency room too if she had said something similar to him. She didn't even know anymore if she would have preferred his violence to his indifference.
And finally, Beatrice Netal. The queen bee. Famous weather presenter. Happy wife of Sol Lee, wealthy owner of a large construction company, and mother of Sou-Bin, their adorable six-year-old daughter. A perfect family. Does your family even know what a monster you are, dear Bazine? Rey thought grimly. Did you tell them that you used to enjoy burning a high school classmate with a curling iron? Did you tell them that you are responsible for the death of another victim who wasn't as lucky as me?
After Tallissan had fallen from the school roof, the group of friends had been left without a living toy to take their frustrations out on. So they'd chosen another one, a girl who had seen everything, who knew what they were doing to Tallie, but who had said nothing, convinced that looking the other way would protect her. It hadn't saved her, however, and the price of silence was a painful one. It now weighed on her shoulders like an invisible burden.
A lonely girl from a very poor background, she was an excellent student who had fought hard to win a scholarship to a private high school. She'd lived alone with her uncle, who neglected her. She had barely known her alcoholic parents. Bazine had liked to say that she was the offspring of a gutter prostitute, and that she'd indulged in the same vices as her mother to pay for her education. Could she have gone to the school principal's office and slept her way to a scholarship?
At first, it started with rumors, petty mockery, mean laughter behind her back. A few shoves in the hallways, at most. Her things were stolen — her backpack, her phone, her notebooks — just a little "joke". Nothing too serious. Just teenage squabbles. But very quickly, the few friends Rey had made stopped talking to her, they stopped sitting next to her, for fear of incurring the wrath of Bazine Netal and her gang.
Mrs. Rwoh, the English teacher, had seen everything and chosen not to get involved. Mr. Kelnacca, the math teacher, had intervened when he witnessed Bazine slap Rey for the first time in the hallway. But Rey had promised him that everything was fine, that it was just a silly little argument between schoolgirls like so many others. She'd still naively believed that things wouldn't get worse, that her tormentors would eventually tire of it all, that they would get over it.
But it never ended. The pack of rabid wolves kept coming back to tear apart the same innocent sheep, simply because it couldn't bite back. One day, the violence escalated to a new level. Rey had defended herself violently, at the end of her tether, and they'd fought in front of the high school. She had even managed to dial 911 on her old phone.
"Like, that bitch actually called the cops! All because she can't defend herself when she gets pushed around a little. Talk about victimization!"
The six students had all ended up at the police station. Mitaka had a bloody nose. Lusica had a black eye. Chesille had been hit while filming the fight. Bazine had scratches on her neck, arms, and legs, as well as a bite mark on her wrist. Rey had a few bruises and some invisible injuries. No one could tell who the victim was anymore. It was a simple fight between 17-year-olds, that was the conclusion. And the principal of Exegol High kept asking, "It happened in front of the school gate, outside the school grounds, right? Very well, then, it's none of our concern." He was willing to do anything to avoid tarnishing the image of his prestigious institution.
In any case, this episode had made Bazine furious, since the police had informed her wealthy parents. The next day, after class, she and the others waited for the supervisor to leave for an emergency at the other end of the building so they could corner Rey in the gym. Then the leader had pulled out her curling iron with her famous, evil smirk. It was a smirk that sent shivers down your spine, as stretched across her painted lips.
"Hey, Pancake... Could you please check if my iron is hot enough?"
The survivor sniffed and scratched her burns mechanically as she recalled her visit to the infirmary. Rose Tico, the young junior nurse, had wanted to understand why she was asking for ointment and hydrogen peroxide. She had been the first to notice the physical scars with horror. But Rey kept saying it was nothing. She refused to talk to the principal and report her torturers. What if the abuse got even worse if she reported their names? After all, the violence had escalated considerably following the police incident. If she spoke up, they would be quick to slaughter her.
When she returned home, she still couldn't even get a semblance of respite. A week later, Bazine and her gang had broken into the slum she lived in, while her uncle was out at the bar again, to keep humiliating her. They had no limits. They had stolen her pocket money. Crying, she begged them to give it back.
"Please! You don't need that! You guys are already rich! And I have almost nothing!"
But her tormentors would only laugh. Then Bazine promised her she could have her piggy bank back if she danced for them in her underwear. Emphasizing that they would burn her again if they didn't like the show. With no other choice, Rey forced herself to do it. And sure enough, they were not satisfied with her performance.
That evening, she had seriously considered throwing herself off the roof of her building. Then the snow fell and her tears froze on her bruised cheeks. She lay down in the powdery snow, breathless, and let the flakes purify her. The cold numbed her pain. She rubbed her burns with snow to soothe them. She realized that nothing would change, that the nightmare would never end, whether she acted or remained silent. So she might as well act.
But reporting them had not had the desired effect. In the end, it had been settled through mediation between the parents, behind closed doors, with an amicable agreement. The principal, Mr. Windu, had spoken in a calm, measured, administrative tone, as if he were dealing with a photocopier malfunction, and not a serious case of repeated assault and bullying. Everyone preferred to bury the matter to preserve the reputation of the school and the families involved, their saintly reputations prevailed over justice.
Unkar Plutt, Rey's uncle and guardian, had no affection for her. She wasn't even sure if her parents, if they hadn't been stripped of custody of their daughter, would have filed a complaint on her behalf either. All it took to drop it was Mrs. Netal, Bazine's very wealthy mother, offering Plutt a large sum of money as compensation. A sum of which incidentally Rey did not receive a single penny of. Without asking any questions, Unkar cashed the check as if he had just won the lottery.
It had been agreed that it would be better for his niece to simply change high schools, and leave the one she had fought so hard to get into. Even today, the former victim did not know if Bazine and her other tormentors had been punished in any way once she left the school. Even so, they must have all gotten off with only a slap on the wrist. Just like they had for Tallissan. Such promising students... It would be such a shame to ruin their academic futures.
Today, Rey had no qualms about ruining their entire lives. As they had ruined hers. She had gone too far to back down now. She had to follow the plan, which would take as long as it took. Then she could leave in peace. "Worst case scenario... we'll die in the spring," her angel had once said to her. That's what she'd called the boy who had saved her long ago, the night she tried to drown herself in the river.
She regretted running away so quickly when they met, because she had never seen him again. She struggled to visualize his features, which she had barely distinguished in the dim light, or to remember the sound of his voice. But his words remained etched in her memory. He had given her the strength to fight when she was about to give up completely without even trying. Rey just hoped that her savior hadn't thrown himself into the river as agreed the following spring. Maybe he wasn't even a real teenager after all. But truly an angel who had come down from heaven to rescue and inspire her.
Dear Bazine... They say you have to strike while the iron is hot. I can assure you that it is still burning hot even today. The question is how to cool it down.
For sixteen years, her past bullies had built their majestic mansions. Founded on lies and injustices, they held all their darkest secrets. But their power would soon begin to erode. Before they even knew it, they would already be lost, like a plane caught in fog, unable to see the fall that awaited them. And soon, very soon, once the terrible truths had come to the surface, their mansions would collapse for good.
Then, for Rey, it would finally be spring. Her spring.
Her glory.