But something pulled at me. Maybe proving I survived? Maybe closure? Maybe just morbid curiosity. So, I clicked RSVP. Yes. One night only. What could possibly go wrong?
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Herbeauty
At our 10-year reunion, my high school bully strutted up, dumped wine down my dress, and sneered, “Look, everyone—the Roach Girl is still a loser.” Laughter spread through the room. I just stood there, silent. Then the doors slammed open. Her husband stormed in, face twisted with rage. “Where is she? She stole $200.000—that designer bag she’s flaunting is fake.” The room went de/ad silent.
