Chapter 25:
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Chapter 25: Let the Real Revenge Twist Begin
The night was calm. Every house on the street seemed swallowed by stillness. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance, and the moon hung heavy over the sky like a watchful eye. While everyone else slept peacefully, Stephen lay awake, her laptop casting a pale glow on her face.
"You can't sit around like this all summer," said a voice from her screen. It was Hannah's voice—laughing, confident, unbothered.
Stephen paused the video, staring at the frozen frame. "I can't believe I went this far..." she whispered to herself, her mind slowly spiraling back into memories she tried to bury.
She remembered the night at summer camp—how she had walked quietly, heart pounding, over to where Hannah's flashy pink Bentley was parked. She crouched down, her hands steady as she pulled out the spark plug. Her face lit with a smug, small smile before she quickly disappeared into the shadows.
Another memory flashed.
They were sitting in a room, painted blue and yellow, sunlight streaming through the blinds.
"I wish we could like... hire someone to take them down," Hannah had said.
Stephen had laughed. "What, like a messed-up TaskRabbit?"
Flashback ended.
Stephen shut her laptop, the heaviness of her past pressing on her chest. She picked up her pet lizard from the little glass tank beside her bed and cradled it gently.
"Listen," she whispered, "was all this a little crazy? Sure." She paused, stroking its smooth back. "But I'm a teenage girl. We're practically psychopaths."
She placed the lizard back down and walked to her mirror. Her eyes met her reflection. Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed in a hard line.
"After the ring dinner, I decided to call it off. Hannah... she really seemed like she'd changed. And I didn't want to hurt her. She was becoming my friend."
Stephen ran a hand through her hair, her gaze turning colder.
"But after she kamikazed into my birthday party?" she scoffed. "I realized Hannah hadn't changed at all. She was still the same mean girl I met when I was thirteen."
Her voice was now a low whisper, almost a vow. "And she deserves everything that's coming to her."
She wiped off her makeup slowly, with precision, like she was removing a mask. Then she climbed into bed, a wicked sense of peace settling over her.
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The Next Morning
"Mom!" Hannah called as she opened her bedroom door. Her voice was light, cheerful. She walked in, only to freeze in place.
Stephen stood in her kitchen, buttering toast as if she lived there.
"Hello, friend," Stephen said, smiling sweetly.
The kitchen was dimly lit, the sun barely spilling in through the blinds. The overhead light was off, giving the space an eerie calm. Stephen looked up briefly as Hannah moved closer. The only thing separating them was the kitchen counter.
Hannah's heartbeat was steady, unnaturally so, as if her body knew better than to panic. She watched Stephen, who calmly poured juice into a glass and placed it next to a plate of sandwiches.
"You having a tough day?" Stephen asked casually. "Your mom had an emergency shift. She told me you'd be alone for dinner."
Hannah's eyes narrowed slightly. "You probably poisoned it. Nabi."
Stephen smiled at the name, a flash of old pain hidden behind her smirk. "So dramatic. I just made you dinner."
She leaned against the counter, eyes fixed on Hannah. "Remember Marble? From camp?"
Hannah stayed quiet. Her face showed nothing, but inside, her thoughts raced.
"Of course you do. I follow her on Instagram," Stephen said, letting the words hang. "She posted the funniest story from rehab today."
Now that got Hannah's attention. Her spine stiffened, lips parting slightly—but she still said nothing.
Stephen continued cheerfully. "I know Priea is in rehab too. So... you're calling me Nabi now. I guess the cat's out of the bag?"
The room felt heavier, tension thickening like fog.
"Get out of my house," Hannah said, voice ice-cold.
Stephen just placed the final spoon on the table. "Thought so."
She pointed to the food. "Burnt one's for you."
Then she stepped back and looked Hannah dead in the eyes. "I have some really exciting news. Every move we made? I had the upper hand the whole time."
Stephen took a seat, her body language screaming control. "You made it so easy. Narcissists are too busy looking at themselves to notice they're being played."
"You'll never get away with this," Hannah snapped.
"Oh, honey," Stephen chuckled. "You made sure I would."
Hannah slowly sat, placing her phone on the table. "You had me destroy Priea for no reason," she muttered. "She said you actually liked each other."
Stephen's jaw tensed slightly. "I did. But she freaked out when you turned me into a leper. She hid in the closet when I needed her most."
She leaned forward now, voice raw and honest. "Rumors? They don't start out big. Someone says something once. Someone else repeats it. Then it grows—until it becomes a monster that eats you alive."
Stephen's voice broke for a second. "I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating. My parents had to send me to a treatment center. And it was humiliating."
Hannah finally met her gaze. "What if I had remembered?"
Stephen's smile faded. "What if? What if?" she echoed, almost mockingly. Then, softer, "I wish more than anything you had. But you didn't. And I knew you wouldn't."
A long silence fell.
"When does this game end, Nabi?" Hannah asked. "There's literally nothing left you can take from me."
Stephen's eyes darkened. "That's where you're wrong."
She sipped her juice, then set the cup down with a quiet clink. "You'll get into some fancy college. Sure. But I'm going to make sure you carry this pain with you forever."
She leaned in close, her smile sharp as glass.
"It'll be like a friendship tattoo. Except, you know... with trauma."
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