8 The emotional breakdown

Chapter 8: The Emotional Breakdown

The night was silent, but inside Amelia's mind, there was nothing but screams.

She sat in the darkness of her dorm room, knees pulled tightly to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold her breaking pieces together. The weight of everything she had endured crashed down on her like an unstoppable wave, dragging her into the depths of her own torment.

Her breath hitched as the memories replayed, over and over, like a cruel film with no pause button.

The whispers. The laughter. The pain.

She saw herself, small and helpless, curled on the cold tile of the hallway as Victoria and her friends surrounded her. She could still hear their cruel words, the sharp sting of their slaps, the suffocating feeling of powerlessness.

Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms.

"I could have stopped it."

A broken sob tore from her throat as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She rocked herself gently, trying to soothe the storm inside her chest, but it was useless. She had been so weak, so fragile. A punching bag for their amusement. But now—

She looked down at her hands, the same hands that had once trembled in fear, now steady and filled with something new.

Strength.

Power.

The system had given her a gift, something she never had before—control.

And yet, even as that thought filled her, it did nothing to ease the pain clawing at her heart. She wanted to scream. To go back in time and grab her past self by the shoulders, shake her and tell her to fight back. To stop being afraid. To stop letting them win.

A choked sob slipped from her lips. "Why didn't I fight?"

The room gave no answer. Only the silent hum of the night and the rhythmic pounding of her heartbeat filled the space. Amelia clenched her jaw, her body shaking. Rage, thick and burning, coiled in her stomach, making her blood boil.

She could have broken Victoria's nose that day.

She could have snapped their wrists, just like she had done earlier.

She could have watched fear bloom in their eyes instead of in her own.

A sharp, bitter laugh left her mouth. A hollow, broken sound. "They thought I was weak."

She dragged her fingers through her tangled hair, gripping the strands as more tears spilled down her face. For years, she had begged for mercy, pleaded for kindness, only to be spat on and torn apart. And now… now she had the power to make them suffer.

The system's voice echoed in her head, smooth and cold.

[Level up through revenge.]

Her breath hitched. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Revenge.

She could make them feel what she had felt. She could make them beg, just like she had.

The thought sent a violent shudder through her body. It was terrifying. It was intoxicating.

She gritted her teeth, gripping the edge of her bed as a flood of emotions threatened to drown her. Pain, sorrow, rage—twisting and churning inside her like a monster desperate to break free.

Amelia squeezed her eyes shut.

"I don't want to be weak anymore."

The words left her in a whisper, but they carried the weight of her broken soul. The girl she once was—the girl who begged, who cried, who prayed for someone to save her—she was gone.

And what remained was something else. Something stronger. Something ruthless.

She opened her eyes, and for the first time, they burned not with fear, but with fury.

Victoria. The bullies. Every person who had ever hurt her, every cruel word, every bruise, every scar—they would know what it felt like.

They would break.

Just like she had.

Tears still streaked her face, but they no longer fell from weakness.

They fell for the girl she used to be.

The girl she would never be again.

The beast inside her stirred.

It was time to level up.