ACIR HILLS
I almost turned around before I reached the Guidance and Counseling Office.
My feet stopped moving. I just stood there for several seconds contemplating whether I should go inside or just leave. Maybe this was a terrible idea. I had already spent days pretending everything was fine, but pretending wasn’t working anymore.
I wore my wired earphones everywhere. As soon as I left my apartment, I put them in. I played piano music at full volume. I needed something louder than the voices… something that could drown out the laughter. The music had become my shield.
The worst part about the whispers was that it reminded me of before—that same feeling of being watched, being singled out, and being made into a joke. My trauma ran deeper than I wanted to admit.
Maybe that was why I fi
