Cynthia Dion: "Mara!" I quickened my pace to catch up with her, but she was darting away from me as if I'd committed a crime. It made no sense. As I hurried after her, lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice someone coming from the opposite direction. I collided with none other than Rosalie. "My bad!" I winced, nursing my arm that had been scratched by the keychain dangling from her purse. "Of course it's you," Rosalie muttered, her grip on the plastic coffee cup tightening. Looking at her, a pang of envy hit me. She had everything one could wish for: loving parents, a privileged life, and numerous friends. And she was drop-dead gorgeous with her brown eyes, blonde hair, and a height of 5 feet 8 inches. As a cheerleader and one of the school's popular girls, she practically set trends with every move she made. Despite her seemingly perfect life, she never missed an opportunity to belittle others and disrupt their peace. It might seem that all these luxuries and the prospect of becoming the next royal beta in Atticus' pack would humble her, but that wasn't the case. In fact, she seemed even more restless than the rest of us. Her wardrobe consisted of branded and limited edition clothing; the most prominent companies gifted her accessories. As the captain of the cheerleading squad, her outfits often received their own hashtags on social media. Comparing myself to her was like comparing a flickering candle to a blazing bonfire. "Hello?" She snapped her fingers in front of my face, pulling me out of my thoughts. I blinked and lowered my eyes, the memory of the night she manipulated Atticus into rejecting me fresh in my mind. Of course, he'd listen to his best friend, especially when she looked so impeccable. "I'm sorry, I was in a hurry and didn't see---," I began, trying to keep my voice composed and my gaze downcast, but she had no interest in forgiveness. She was all about creating drama. "Sorry? Is that all you have to say? What if I did the same thing to you?" Her voice cut through the air like a knife, drawing a gathering of curious onlookers like ants converging on a piece of food. "I'll accept your apology and move on," I replied, wanting to end the confrontation. How much more could I endure? "Really?" She mused, nodding to herself and seemingly lost in thought. I hoped that would be the end of it, that she'd go away and come back later to torment me some more. But no, she wasn't finished. She did something utterly appalling. She flung the scalding hot coffee in her cup right at my chest. "AHHH!" I shrieked, my bag falling to the ground as I instinctively clutched at my burning chest and neck. The coffee had been steaming hot, and the pain was excruciating. "Now, that's a classic move," someone from the crowd cheered on Rosalie, who rewarded them with a smug smile. Then, she turned back to me. "Oops! I'm sorry. I hope you'll accept my apology and move on!" She hunched down, mockingly mimicking my earlier words with exaggerated gestures. With that, she left accompanied by her friends. She clearly didn't care about the impact of her actions. The crowd dispersed, leaving me standing there, trembling and whimpering in pain. I was utterly fed up with all the torment. Grabbing my bag, I pushed through the crowd while tears clouded my vision, rendering the faces around me a blur for a moment. The painful burn on my chest and neck was spreading, causing involuntary twitches throughout my body. I continued running further away from the school until I couldn't hold back any longer. I dropped to my knees on the roadside and sobbed heart-wrenchingly. My cries seemed to reverberate in the air around me, and I was too absorbed in my agony to realize just how loud I was. The sensation of burning stretched across my skin, and I desperately wanted to scratch at the affected areas. "F**k you!" I screamed, raising my tear-streaked face to the sky. My curses were directed at the Moon Goddess herself. "You sit there so benevolent while the alphas you've created make us suffer!" My anger and frustration welled up, and in that moment, I didn't even think about Rosalie. I was just furious that my supposed mates, Atticus and Enzo, hadn't cared enough to prevent her from hurting me. As I buried my face in my hands, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. Turning my head to the side, I saw Atticus and Enzo slowing down near me. "What?" I yelled, my voice filled with fury. "You're here to bully me because I bumped into that little piece of s**t you enjoy f**king?" In that moment, I didn't care about the consequences of my words. I was too overwhelmed by pain and anger to hold back. "We heard what happened," Enzo's voice broke through the chaos of my emotions. Atticus moved to the side, his gaze focused on my neck. "Oh, fantastic!" I laughed bitterly through my tears. "Take a good look then. This area," I stretched my head back to expose my neck, "and this," I pointed to my chest over my white shirt, "are both perfectly on display. Is this what you wanted? Or are you considering an interview to understand just how much pain I'm in? I'm sure that would make your day." My words were punctuated by labored breaths as I struggled to vent my frustration. "We're not sadists," Atticus tried to defend himself. "Oh, please! Really? Then what are you, the self-proclaimed 'Arrogant Alpha'?" I shouted, my pain mingling with my anger. Enzo stepped forward to stand between us. "We can debate our positions later. Right now, you need help." His voice was calm and rational as he suggested, "Why don't you shift and heal?" His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt like the world was crashing down around me. "Oh, splendid! That’s the reason for your visit, isn't it?" I sighed, feigning realization as if I'd uncovered a hidden truth. "You're here to mock my weak wolf," I added, bitterness tainting my words. I refrained from revealing that I didn't even have a wolf. Atticus shot back, "How insecure are you?" A mixture of frustration and hurt swirled within me. "Oh, trust me, you guys have done a splendid job chipping away at that over time," I responded, my voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "But guess what? I don't need you to remind me of my shortcomings. I've become quite skilled at finding my own ways to cope. I've been doing it my whole life, and I'm certain I can manage a few more times." In that instant, they exchanged a quick, guilt-ridden look that didn't escape my notice.