Mandy's POV
"What the hell is that news, Mandy!? What mess have you gotten yourself into this time?"
Brianna's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, sharp and clear. She's the lead vocalist of our band, Black Panther—a mix of tough and caring. Her face often looks serious or annoyed, but behind that, she's the most loyal friend anyone could ask for.
She doesn't sugarcoat her words, and her attitude can be blunt, but you know she means well. With her dark hair and a streak of color, she stands out. Brianna might seem sharp-tongued, but she's someone who always has your back, no matter what.
I bow my head, unable to meet her eyes. Everything feels surreal, like a bad dream I can't wake up from. The hallway feels longer than ever, the weight of every stare pressing down on me. The whispers are louder than the school bell.
"F**!" I curse under my breath. I can't focus in class. Everyone's eyes are glued to me like I'm a scandalous headline. I feel like a disgraced celebrity—humiliated, exposed, judged.
A voice pulls me back from my spiraling thoughts.
"Mandy, let's go."
It's Harwood Ramirez, my classmate since high school and my closest friend. He's the only one who hasn't bombarded me with questions. His calm voice, free of judgment, makes me want to cry. I nod and follow him.
"Guys, I'm sorry for the disappointment. I know I messed up again, but please... give me time. When I'm ready to explain everything, I promise I will. Just not right now. I'm sorry."
Without waiting for their responses, I walk away with Harwood. He lends me his hoodie, shielding me from the world. He plugs his earphones into my ears, the music drowning out the relentless whispers.
Tears stream down my face as the music soothes me. I close my eyes, blocking out the world, feeling like a coward.
Why am I so afraid? Why do I care so much about what they think?
HOME
Harwood drops me off at my doorstep. He hugs me, a silent gesture of comfort.
"Thank you, Harwood. Don't pick me up tomorrow. I need a day to escape all this bullshit. I promise I'll be better."
"Okay, Mandy. Remember, I'm just one call away if you need anything."
"Thank you."
I step inside. The silence is heavy. Where are Mom and Dad? Have they heard the news? My heartbeat quickens with dread. If they know, I'm done for.
I lock myself in my room, blasting music to drown out my thoughts and the inevitable knock on my door. Wrapped in my blanket, I let the worries consume me.
The shame and disappointment I've brought to my parents.
Dreid—does he even know?
What if he rejects the responsibility?
What will people think of me?
What about my studies?
Dreid is engaged. Am I a homewrecker?
I never wanted to ruin anyone's life. My feelings for Dreid were just fantasies. Can I blame it all on the alcohol?
Knock Knock Knock!
My heart pounds as the knocking turns into furious banging.
"MANDYYYYY! OPEN THE DOOR!" Dad's voice roars in beast mode.
I'm shaking. I know his anger too well. He once kicked my brother out of the house; what will he do to me?
"MANDY! OPEN THIS F**KING DOOR! NOW!"
No more running, Mandy. I walk to the door and open it, my head bowed. I can't bear to see their faces—my mom's tears, my dad's fury.
Mom wraps me in a trembling hug, her sobs shaking me to the core. Dad's clenched fists tremble with rage.
I collapse to my knees, tears falling uncontrollably.
"Ma... Pa... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"So it's true!?" Dad's voice breaks through my guilt.
I can't lie. My voice cracks.
"Opo..."
A loud thud. Dad's fist slams into the wall. Mom holds him back, trying to calm him. I feel like a child again—small, scared, and ashamed.
"Are you out of your mind, Mandy? What will people say about our family? Do you even know who did this to you!?" Dad's voice booms.
"Mandy, get up and go to your room. We'll talk later. You need to tell us everything." Mom's voice is soft but firm.
I lock myself in my room and break down. My mind spirals. The online hate is relentless. My phone screen flashes with words:
Disgrasyada. Fuckgirl. Whore. Slut. Bitch.
The cruelty of the online world is suffocating. I understand now why some people don't survive this. But this time, I deserve it, don't I?
If only I hadn't gotten drunk. If only I hadn't hooked up with him.
But I was drunk... Wasn't I?
Flashback: University Festival
Black Panther was supposed to practice, but Juls—the band's rebellious drummer—had other plans.
"Boring if we don't have something to get high later! Relax, we won't get too drunk." Juls laughed, waving a vodka bottle.
We laughed too, ready to party. Two hours later, we were anything but sober.
"Leeeeeegooooo!" I yelled, the world spinning around me. We danced, shouted, lived in that wild, carefree moment.
But I was the drunkest of all. Lost in the crowd, I stumbled outside to clear my head. And there he was—Dreid. Alone, smoking, his eyes lost in thought.
My heartbeat raced, dizziness overwhelming me. I didn't plan to approach him, but his gaze locked onto mine. He walked toward me.
"Shan...?"
He didn't finish his sentence. He kissed me.
I tried to resist, but desire swallowed my logic. His kiss, his touch—it was all too much. The next thing I knew, we were in his car, lost in a haze of intoxication and poor choices.
And that one reckless night led to this chaos.
Thank you, vodka, for making me the headline of every gossip.