I took a slow breath, looked at the three of them, and spoke.
"I have something I'd like to show you."
I took out my phone and opened my diary right there in front of them. Every entry, dated and detailed: who said what, who did what. I pulled up the photo of my scratched graduation picture. I found Sloane's post in the department-wide group chat, and the original screenshot showing the part of the conversation she had cut out.
My advisor read through everything and was quiet for a long time. Then she asked, in a tone I couldn't quite read, "Why didn't you bring any of this to me before?"
"You told me it wasn't that serious and that I should try talking to them."
Her expression shifted. Not anger. Something more like the discomfort of being caught out.
The department chair took over.
