Bullied Elara was never Invisible

Chapter Five - The Summer Pact

Headphones in. World off.

Isabel LaRosa's “Favorite” throbbed in my ears as I lounged on my bed, the soft notes wrapping around me like armor. The sun filtered in through the curtains, casting streaks of warmth on the floor. For the first time in days, I wasn’t crying, wasn’t thinking of him. I was here. In my room. In my body. Fully present.

I tapped my foot to the rhythm, nodding along, letting the music sink deep into my bloodstream. My hand tapped the edge of the paper lying on my lap. The ink was still fresh.

The Summer Pact

I’d written it boldly across the top, underlined it twice. No fancy designs. No overthinking.

Just truth.

Below that, three bullet points stared up at me:

Heal

Glow

Rise

And then, in capital letters, like a warning I’d carved into the bark of my soul:

NO LOVE. NO DISTRACTIONS.

I chewed on the cap of my pen for a moment, rereading the words until they settled into my chest. This wasn’t just about getting “hot” or proving anything to Jaxon. This was about reclaiming me—from the whispers, from the stares, from the voice inside that had shrunk over time like a wilted flower.

This was my season.

I pushed myself off the bed, the bass from the song pushing me forward as I danced barefoot across my room. The paper dropped to the floor, but I didn’t care. I twirled once, twice, laughing as I stumbled a little, throwing open my wardrobe like I was in some cheesy movie montage.

Clothes tumbled out—dresses I hadn’t worn since last summer, oversized hoodies, crop tops I’d always been too afraid to rock in public. I started yanking pieces from hangers and tossing them to the floor, clearing space for the new version of me.

“This one? Maybe if I ever want to impersonate a bedsheet,” I muttered, chuckling as I flung a giant sweater into the ‘donate’ pile.

I kept dancing as I worked, lip-syncing to the lyrics, sliding across the wooden floor in my socks like I was starring in my own little rebellion.

The music dipped into a haunting bridge and I paused, catching a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror.

I walked over slowly, the fun still buzzing beneath my skin but fading into something quieter. Something honest.

My fingers touched the roundness of my cheeks, then trailed down to my stomach, tracing the soft curve. I stood there for a moment, just looking. Not judging. Not crying.

Just… being.

“Okay,” I whispered to my reflection. “You’re still here.”

I reached into my drawer and pulled out the measuring tape Lina had tossed me once during a silly game night. Today, it wasn’t for fun. Today, it was a marker. A starting point.

The numbers bit a little when I saw them.

I stepped onto the digital scale. It blinked for a moment before settling on a number that made my heart sink.

I nodded anyway.

Not because I liked it.

But because it wasn’t the end.

“I see you,” I whispered to the girl in the mirror. “And I’m not leaving you behind this time.”

The music shifted again, a new song beginning—something upbeat, pulsing like a heartbeat. I peeled off my tank top and grabbed a towel from the rack, making my way to the bathroom.

The water hit my skin like clarity. Steam fogged the mirror, and for a moment, I imagined it was washing away every harsh word, every cruel stare, every moment I’d hated myself just for existing.

By the time I stepped out, my head felt clearer. My towel was snug, my resolve even tighter.

I changed into my gym set—black leggings, a tight sports bra that I used to avoid, and a loose tank over it. I tied my curls into a bun, slapped on some lip balm, and grabbed my keys.

This was it.

I picked up my pact from the floor and tucked it into my journal.

One last glance in the mirror.

“You're not doing this for revenge,” I reminded myself. “You’re doing this because you’re done being a spectator in your own life.”

With one last breath, I opened the door, stepped into the summer heat, and zoomed off to the gym.

Not looking back.

Not this time.