Chapter 4: Living Hell
1363 Words
The next day dawned like a warning. Sophie could already feel the stares waiting for her the moment she woke up. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft patter of rain against her window. She wished she could just stay there, let the world turn without her.
But she couldn’t.
Her mom knocked on the door, voice muffled. “Sophie, you’re going to be late!”
Sophie sighed and pulled herself out of bed. Her legs felt heavy, as though gravity itself was conspiring against her. She grabbed her hoodie—her armor—and pulled it over her head.
She barely tasted her breakfast, shoving a piece of dry toast around her plate. Her mom buzzed around the kitchen, worrying aloud about bills and groceries, never noticing Sophie’s silence.
“Have a good day,” she called as Sophie headed out the door.
Sophie closed her eyes and wished for the strength to face what was waiting.
* * *
School was a minefield. Every hallway felt like an arena, every classroom a stage. Whispers followed her, like an unwanted chorus.
“That’s the girl from the video.”
“Did you see her face? Pathetic.”
“She’s such a joke.”
Sophie tried to block them out, but the words clung to her skin like burrs.
She reached her locker and fumbled with the lock. Her hands were trembling so hard she could barely get it open. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
She had just managed to grab her books when she heard a group of boys snickering behind her.
“Hey, Juliet,” one of them called. She didn’t know his name—some football player who’d never spoken to her before. “How’s your boyfriend? Is he still giving pity kisses?”
The others laughed, high-fiving each other. Sophie’s face burned. She clutched her books to her chest and ducked her head, trying to slip past them.
But one of them stepped in her path. “Hey, don’t run off. We wanna know—do you get paid extra to embarrass yourself on stage? Or is that just a special talent?”
Sophie felt like she couldn’t breathe. Every eye in the hallway seemed to be on her, waiting for her to snap, to cry, to prove every ugly thing they believed.
She tried to push past, but he stuck out his arm, blocking her way. “Come on, Sophie,” he taunted. “Give us a little performance.”
“Move,” she said, voice small but firm.
He leaned in close, breath hot on her cheek. “Make me.”
A hand closed around his shoulder. Sophie’s eyes widened. Liam.
“Back off,” Liam growled. His voice was low, dangerous.
The boy scoffed. “What’s it to you, Carter?”
Liam’s eyes were cold. “You want a problem with her, you’re gonna have a problem with me.”
The football player’s bravado faltered. He stepped back, muttering under his breath. The others followed, casting nervous glances at Liam as they went.
Sophie let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Liam’s gaze softened. “Don’t let them get to you.”
She shook her head. “They’re everywhere.”
His jaw tightened. “Then you stand taller.”
Her lip trembled. “I can’t, Liam. I’m tired. I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek. “You don’t have to pretend. But don’t let them decide who you are.”
Sophie’s chest ached. She wanted to believe him, but the darkness in her mind whispered otherwise.
* * *
Drama rehearsal that afternoon felt like a battlefield. Sophie could feel eyes on her—some sympathetic, some mocking. Mr. Daniels did his best to keep the focus on the performance, but even he couldn’t shield her from the pointed giggles or the whispers behind cupped hands.
They were rehearsing the balcony scene again, and Liam—ever the steady presence—stood beneath her, script in hand, eyes locked on hers.
“Romeo,” she whispered, voice trembling.
He looked up at her, his expression soft. “Juliet.”
A burst of laughter from the front row. Alyssa, of course, her arms crossed, a smirk on her lips.
“Oh my God,” she stage-whispered. “Look at her, she’s shaking like a jellyfish.”
Amber giggled. “Bet she’s gonna fall right off that balcony. Hope they reinforce the stage.”
Sophie’s hands trembled. She tried to focus, to breathe, but the words blurred.
Mr. Daniels slammed his clipboard onto his lap. “Enough!” he snapped. “Alyssa, Amber—out.”
Alyssa’s eyes widened. “What? We’re just—”
“Out,” Mr. Daniels repeated, his voice cold. “I’ve had enough of your nonsense. This is a rehearsal, not a gossip club.”
Amber huffed, but Alyssa stood, her expression icy. She glared at Sophie. “This isn’t over,” she hissed.
Sophie watched them go, her heart pounding.
Mr. Daniels turned to her, his expression softening. “Sophie, you’re doing great,” he said. “Don’t let them distract you. Let’s pick it up from the top.”
She nodded, but her hands were still shaking. Liam caught her eye and gave her a small nod. She took a deep breath.
She found her place in the script and tried again. Her voice was steadier this time, though her chest still felt tight.
Liam reached the foot of the balcony, his eyes locked on hers. “With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls,” he recited, his voice low and earnest.
Sophie’s breath caught. He wasn’t just saying the lines—he was talking to her.
She blinked, tears threatening. “If they do see thee, they will murder thee.”
He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords.”
Something shifted inside her then—a small flame of strength that refused to be snuffed out.
* * *
After rehearsal, she packed her things in silence. Liam hovered near the door, waiting.
“You okay?” he asked.
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
He nodded slowly. “Listen,” he said, voice low. “Alyssa’s scared. You’re taking something she thought belonged to her.”
Sophie snorted. “Yeah, right. Like she actually wanted this role.”
Liam tilted his head. “Maybe not. But she hates that you got it. You’re proving you’re better than she is. That scares her.”
Sophie shook her head. “I’m not better than anyone. I’m just… me.”
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. And that’s enough.”
Her heart skipped. She looked up at him, searching his eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
His lips curved into a soft smile. “Because you’re the only person who doesn’t treat me like I’m just the bad boy.”
She blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Everyone sees what they want to see. But you… you look at me like I’m real. Like I’m worth something.”
Her throat tightened. “You are,” she whispered.
His smile deepened, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “So are you.”
She swallowed hard, fighting tears. “Thank you.”
He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “Anytime.”
* * *
As they walked out of the auditorium together, Sophie felt a little lighter. The whispers were still there, the stares still sharp—but with Liam beside her, they didn’t cut as deep.
Outside, the rain had stopped. The air smelled clean, like a promise.
Sophie took a deep breath. Maybe tomorrow would be easier. Maybe she could make it through this living hell.
And maybe—just maybe—she’d come out the other side stronger than she’d ever been.
- Writer
