Author's Note: This chapter depicts bullying and suicide. Please skip to the end if you do not wish to read about such things.

Emma Barnes looked down at the pita wrap in her hands. Disgusting. The soggy mess was completely inedible and full of some sort of horrible smelling cheese. There was no way she would ever eat something so... pathetic.

The bathroom stall was cramped, and the room's odor was mixing with that of the 'food' in her hand. It made her stomach turn. She looked around and shoved the excuse for lunch into a brown paper bag. She had to get out of here quickly, before-

BANG!

The sound of the bathroom door being slammed open was deafening. She recognized most of the voices, except for one. The insipid giggling stopped as someone banged on the door to her stall. Emma froze. It didn't matter what she did. They'd come just like they always did, and they were going to...

No! She was a survivor! She would show them this time!

The redhead stood on the lid of the toilet and waited. A smiling face rose up from behind the stall partition, and the teenage girl grabbed it's hair and pulled down as hard as she could. It wasn't much, but it was enough. There was a loud thud as her tormentor fell away.

"Ow! My NOSE!"

"Oh, hell no!" Emma turned to face the stall on the other side only to reel back in pain as someone hit her.

The door swung open and the unfamiliar voice said. "You are such a loser! What can a worm like you ever accomplish?"

Emma turned to shout at the person, but a dark-skinned form pushed her way into the stall. "Think you're a winner, huh?" Something hit her and she tasted blood. "Think you can get away with that shit?" Another punch. Her eye wouldn't open.

"Wait!" Emma tried to cry out, but blow after blow landed on her. The darkness claimed her.

She woke up with an old man looking down at her. "Are you okay?" What a stupid accent. What a stupid question. Couldn't he see that she clearly WASN'T okay?

"Fuck you." She couldn't even muster up the proper venom in her voice. The man moved to grab her arm. "Don't touch me! I'll scream!"

The janitor obviously didn't want to mess with her, and backed away. Emma tried to stand up, except she was wedged between the toilet and the stall. Her legs were numb. Her right eye wouldn't open. She could still taste her own blood and vomit.

She was Emma Barnes the queen bee of Winslow High, the hot up-and-coming model, the girl with a rich daddy who'd do anything for her, the survivor. Emma Barnes, who was now stuck in a bathroom stall after being physically attacked. Emma Barnes, who couldn't stop herself from crying...

She eventually wiggled out and trudged away. The lunch break was over, but she didn't want to spend one more minute here. Her friends didn't recognize her. The principle was a fat piece of shit. Even her own father wouldn't do anything!

She had nothing left. Tears continued to stream down her face as she made her way up to the roof. There was one solution. One way to stop this. She... just had to be brave.

Emma stood on top of the roof of her high school and looked down. Everything seemed so calm from up here. She took one final breath, and stepped over the ledge.

This was the worst part. It had taken all of her courage to take that final leap, and her willpower was now drained. The ground rushed up to greet her, and Emma was scared. She was so stupid. Why would she do something like this? What was she thinking? She didn't want to die! The view from halfway down froze her to her core.

...

...

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Darkness.

...

...

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Silence.

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...

...

Emma sat up in her bed with a jolt. She'd had that same exact dream again. Except it wasn't a dream. It was all too real, and she remembered every moment. She glanced at the clock next to her bed. 2:31. Less than half an hour since she woke up last time.

See? It had to be a dream! Time worked differently in dreams, and she knew she'd been trapped in that version of Winslow for more than an hour. She hated jumping off that damn roof, but it was the quickest way to wake up. Emma ran her fingers over her body just to be sure. Her eye was fine. She didn't taste any blood. Her sheets... were wet.

She had to change them again. She had woken up dry, but now she couldn't stop sweating and shaking. Worst, her tears were coming back.

It wasn't fair! Why was this happening to her? She'd already proven that she was a survivor!

Why had she started to constantly dream that she was Taylor?

...And why was dream-Emma so... vicious?