Dove's alarm went off the next morning, the shrill beeping pulling her from a restless sleep. She blinked, her eyes puffy and sore from the tears she had cried the night before. For a moment, she didn't know where she was—her body stiff and cramped from sleeping on the floor, her back pressed against the bedroom door.

Then, everything from the previous night came crashing back.

Billy. The movie. The parking lot. The way he had touched her. The way she had run.

Dove squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that if she stayed still long enough, she could push the memories away. But the weight of them stayed with her, settling in her chest like a stone. She felt raw, like the edges of her world had been rubbed thin, and every step she took might tear it all apart.

But it was Monday. School. Routine. She had to go. Pretend like nothing had happened.

Dove slowly peeled herself off the floor, her body stiff and aching. She dragged herself through the motions of getting ready—brushing her teeth, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail, throwing on a pair of jeans and an old sweater. She didn't bother with makeup. The idea of looking at herself in the mirror was too much.

Downstairs, her mom was already making coffee, the smell of it drifting through the kitchen. "Morning, sweetie," her mom called out as Dove stepped into the room. "You're up early. How was last night?"

Dove froze, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. How was last night? The question hung in the air, innocent and casual, but it made Dove's stomach churn.

"Fine," she mumbled, not daring to look at her mom. "Just... fine."

Her mom didn't press. "You need a ride to school?"

"No, I'll bike," Dove said quickly, her voice sharper than she meant it to be. "It's fine. I'm fine."

Before her mom could ask anything else, Dove grabbed an apple from the counter and headed for the door, the familiar weight of her backpack pressing against her shoulders. She stepped out into the cool morning air, the chill of it biting at her skin as she grabbed her bike from the garage.

Normally, the steady rhythm of her feet pedaling, the wind tugging at her hair, and the fresh morning air helped clear her head before a long day. But today, the bike felt heavier beneath her, and the ride seemed longer.

Her mind was still tangled in the events of the night before. The panic, the fear, Billy's smirk. She had tried to push it all down, tried to convince herself that she could just get through the day. But the knot in her stomach said otherwise. As she neared the school, her heart began to pound.

Dove slowed as she pulled up to the bike rack, carefully locking her bike before making her way toward the front doors. The school loomed ahead, a place that once felt routine, now feeling like the beginning of something she wasn't prepared for. But when she stepped inside, everything seemed normal. Familiar.

She kept her head down as she moved through the halls, her footsteps soft and quick as she made her way to her locker. She focused on the rhythm of opening the combination lock, the click of the metal bringing a small sense of comfort. As she grabbed her books, the noise of the hallway faded into the background. Everything seemed.. normal.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe nothing had changed after all.

But as she swung her locker shut, she felt the air shift around her. It was subtle, but undeniable—the familiar scent of cologne, the low hum of footsteps stopping nearby. The sound of her name, spoken with that same smooth, lazy drawl.

"Hey, Dove."

Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Billy.

Her pulse quickened, and she forced herself to stay calm. She wouldn't run. Not here, not now. Slowly, she turned to face him.

Billy leaned casually against the lockers, his hands shoved into his pockets, that same smirk plastered on his face. His eyes flicked over her, not with the cruel edge from the night before, but with the same smug confidence that sent chills down her spine. Like none of it mattered to him. Like it was all just a game.

"What do you want?" Dove asked, her voice firmer than she felt.

Billy shrugged, his grin widening. "Just checking in on you. See how you're holding up after our little... adventure."

Dove's blood ran cold at the word, the casual way he twisted it. She clenched her fists at her sides, willing herself to stay calm, to not let him see how much he rattled her.

"Leave me alone, Billy," she said, her voice sharper this time.

Billy raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Easy there. Just being friendly."

"Well don't." She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. Not here. Not in front of everyone. She turned on her heel and walked away, her legs trembling beneath her as she pushed through the crowd. She didn't stop to see if he was still watching her. She didn't care. She just needed to get away.

As she made her way to class, the knot in her stomach tightened. The relief she had felt earlier—thinking that maybe nothing had changed—was gone.

By lunchtime, everything had shifted.

The morning had passed in a blur of half-heard lectures and hurried trips between classes. Dove tried to focus on her work, to drown out the nagging feeling in her stomach, but her mind kept wandering. Every time she glanced at a clock, it felt like time was moving slower, dragging her through each minute like it was an eternity.

She made it through her morning classes without incident. She almost started to believe that she could survive this day and slip back into the boring safety of her routine.

But as Dove stepped into the cafeteria, tray in hand, that fragile hope shattered.

She felt it before she saw it—the weight of the stares. They weren't like the casual glances that people exchanged in passing. These were sharper, more focused, like the cafeteria had collectively decided that she was the center of some joke she didn't understand.

She hesitated for a moment in the doorway, scanning the room. The usual groups sat scattered around their tables, but now, eyes turned toward her, heads tilted in hushed conversation. The laughter wasn't loud, but it was there, barely concealed beneath the surface.

Dove's heart sank. Something had happened. Something had changed.

She kept her head down as she moved through the room, hoping that by ignoring it, she could somehow make it disappear. But with every step she took, the murmurs grew louder, the stares more obvious.

By the time she reached the far side of the cafeteria, the knot in her stomach was unbearable. She found an empty table in the corner, away from everyone else, and sank into the seat, setting her tray down with shaking hands.

She didn't need to hear the words to know what was happening. The way people were looking at her, the way their conversations quieted when she passed—it was all too familiar. Billy had said something. He had twisted the truth, turned it into something cruel, something to laugh about.

She stared down at her tray, unable to touch the food in front of her. Her appetite was gone, replaced by the growing nausea that churned in her gut. She could feel the whispers crawling up her spine, their words like a faint echo in the air.

"...slept with Billy..."

"...heard she begged for it..."

"...such a good girl... didn't expect that from her..."

Dove's face burned with shame, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. It wasn't true. None of it was true. But the truth didn't matter here. The rumor had already taken root, spreading like wildfire through the halls. And no matter what she said, no matter how she tried to explain herself, it wouldn't be enough. People had already made up their minds.

She clenched her fists under the table, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep herself together. The room felt like it was closing in around her, the walls pressing tighter with every whispered word, every stolen glance.

She couldn't stay here. Not like this.

But as Dove lifted her head, preparing to bolt from the cafeteria, her eyes landed on someone across the room.

Steve.

He was sitting with Nancy, his tray in front of him, though he didn't seem to be paying attention to the food. Dove's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met, just for a brief second. Steve wasn't laughing, he wasn't talking about her like the others. His face wasn't twisted in amusement or cruelty. Instead, there was something else in his expression—something quieter, almost worried.

It was a look that stood out from all the others. Like he knew something was wrong. Like he could see that what everyone was saying wasn't true.

But Steve didn't get up. He didn't walk over to her or say anything. He just sat there next to Nancy, his expression unreadable, the distance between them feeling like a wall neither of them knew how to cross.

Dove looked away first, her heart heavy. She couldn't deal with Steve right now. She couldn't deal with any of this. She just wanted to disappear.

The noise of the cafeteria washed over her again, the murmurs, the laughter, the sound of forks clattering against trays. Dove felt suffocated by it all. She pushed her tray away, her appetite long gone.

All she wanted was to get through this day. But with each passing moment, that felt more impossible.

The final bell rang, and Dove felt a wave of relief wash over her. The day had been a nightmare, each class a slow crawl of whispers and stares, and by now, she was ready to escape the suffocating walls of Hawkins High. She packed her things quickly, eager to get to her bike and leave all of this behind.

But as Dove made her way toward the exit, her heart heavy with shame and exhaustion, a familiar voice called out to her from behind.

"Dove!"

She froze, her pulse quickening. She didn't want to turn around. She didn't want to face anyone, least of allher. But the sound of footsteps closing in forced her to stop. She turned slowly, bracing herself for what was coming.

Tina stood there with her usual posse of friends, her arms crossed and a wide grin on her face. The look of satisfaction in her eyes made Dove's stomach churn. She knew exactly why Tina had sought her out.

"So," Tina began, her voice dripping with mock curiosity, "we've all heard about what happened with you and Billy. Gotta admit, I didn't think you had it in you."

Dove's jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the anger bubbling up beneath her skin.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dove muttered, turning on her heel, ready to walk away.

But Tina wasn't done. She stepped closer, cutting off Dove's path, her smile growing wider. "Oh, come on. Don't play dumb. Everyone's talking about it—how you and Billy hooked up in his car. What, are you too good to share the details with us?"

The laughter from Tina's friends echoed around them, and Dove's hands trembled with barely restrained fury. She could feel the heat in her chest, the bitter taste of humiliation and rage mixing in her throat.

How dare she? How dare Billy?

She had done nothing wrong, and yet, here she was, being cornered like she was some kind of punchline to their cruel joke.

Dove's voice shook with barely contained anger. "Nothing happened. Billy's lying."

Tina's grin didn't falter. She tilted her head, pretending to consider Dove's words before shrugging. "Well, if you say so. But, you know, people love a good story. And this one? It's all anyone's talking about."

Dove's heart pounded in her chest, the anger and shame twisting together into something sharp, something painful. She couldn't stand to listen to this anymore. She shoved past Tina, her vision blurry with the hot sting of tears, but not from sadness this time. From pure, unfiltered rage.

As she stormed out of the building, she spotted him.

He was lounging in the parking lot, leaning against the hood of his Camaro like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't spent the entire day ruining her life. He was laughing with some of the guys from the basketball team, completely unaware—or maybe completely unconcerned—about the damage he had done.

Something inside Dove snapped.

Her feet moved on their own, her body driven by a force she could no longer control. The humiliation of the day, the whispers, the stares, Tina's mocking voice—it all boiled over in a single, burning moment of clarity.

She wasn't going to let him get away with this.

Dove marched straight up to Billy, her heart pounding in her ears, the weight of everyone else's eyes no longer mattering. The only thing she could focus on was him—his smug smile, his carefree posture, like everything was some kind of joke.

Billy's smirk widened as she approached, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Hey, Dove. What's up?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when she slapped him.

The sound of her hand connecting with his face rang out across the parking lot, sharp and satisfying. For a split second, the world seemed to freeze. Billy's head snapped to the side, his expression shocked, his smirk wiped clean from his face.

Dove's hand stung, but she didn't care. The sting felt good. It felt right.

"You're disgusting," she spat, her voice trembling with fury.

Billy blinked, his shock quickly turning into something else—something darker, more dangerous. He straightened up, his eyes narrowing, his jaw tightening as he wiped at the corner of his mouth.

The other guys standing around them fell silent, watching the confrontation with wide eyes, too stunned to react. Dove didn't care. Let them watch.

Billy's voice was low, threatening, as he stepped closer. "You better watch yourself, Dove."

But she didn't flinch. She didn't back down. The anger burning inside her was stronger than the fear, stronger than the humiliation. She had let him hurt her once, but she wouldn't let him do it again.

Without another word, Dove turned on her heel, her heart still pounding in her chest, and walked away, leaving Billy standing there in stunned silence.

As she made her way to her bike, the adrenaline began to wear off, leaving her trembling, but not with fear this time. With something else. Something closer to relief.

She had stood up to him. She had fought back.

For the first time that day, Dove felt like she had some control again.

Dove rode home in a daze, the wind from her bike ride doing little to clear the storm that raged in her mind. Her hand still tingled from the slap, a reminder of the moment she had finally let her anger take over. Part of her felt a small sense of satisfaction for standing up to Billy, but that feeling was quickly swallowed by something else—something heavier. Shame.

She had never been the type to lash out. Never the type to let her emotions boil over like that. Now, even though Billy deserved it, the thought of what she'd done filled her with guilt. What would people say tomorrow? What would he do to retaliate?

By the time she reached home, the adrenaline had long since worn off, leaving her feeling hollow, like she was drifting. Her mom wasn't home, and the house felt as empty as she did. She dropped her backpack by the door, too tired to care, and walked straight up to her room.

Once inside, Dove collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind spinning. The slap, the looks, Tina's laughter—everything played on a loop in her head, louder and more painful with every replay.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow would be worse.

The shame crept in, slow at first, but then it consumed her. Everyone at school had been watching her, whispering about her, judging her, and now she had given them something even more to talk about. She had lost her cool. She had let them get to her.

She turned over in bed, curling into herself as the weight of it all pressed down on her. She felt stupid for letting herself believe that confronting Billy would make things better. Now, she wasn't just the center of a rumor. She was the girl who slapped him in front of everyone, practically confirming it.

The house was quiet, too quiet. No phone calls from friends, no one stopping by. Not that she had expected anyone to. But the silence made it worse. It made her feel like the isolation had already begun.

The shame dug in deeper, clawing at her insides, making it hard to breathe. All she wanted was to rewind time, to go back to the way things were before all of this happened. Before Billy, before the rumor, before she lost herself in the heat of the moment.

The next morning came too quickly, the daylight breaking through her window, bright and unforgiving. Dove hadn't slept much—her mind too restless, too full of regret. Her body felt heavy as she pulled herself out of bed, dragging herself through the motions of getting ready for school.

The walk to her bike felt longer than usual, her legs moving like they were weighed down by lead. The shame followed her, growing heavier with each step closer to Hawkins High.

When she finally arrived at the bike rack, she hesitated for a moment, her stomach twisting as she looked up at the school. She could already feel the stares, even before she stepped inside. The whispers seemed to reach her ears before she even entered the hallway, like a distant hum that only she could hear.

Inside, it was even worse.

As soon as Dove walked through the doors, the looks started. People turned to watch her, their eyes following her as she made her way to her locker. She heard her name whispered from one corner of the hallway, then another.

The shame burned in her chest, her cheeks hot as she kept her head down, avoiding eye contact. She knew they were talking about her. About Billy. About the slap.

She reached her locker, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the lock. Her throat felt tight, the air around her thick and heavy. She wanted to disappear, to shrink into the walls and escape the eyes that seemed to pierce through her.

Dove thought about the slap again—how satisfying it had been in the moment, how Billy's smug face had shifted from cocky to stunned in an instant. But the satisfaction was gone now, replaced by the suffocating weight of shame. What had she done?

By lunchtime, the isolation had settled in completely.

No one sat with her. No one even glanced her way, not openly at least. But Dove could feel their stares, the judgment hanging in the air like smoke. She sat alone, picking at her food, unable to eat, her stomach churning with unease.

The cafeteria felt like a minefield. She knew that if she looked up, she'd see it on everyone's faces—the whispers, the smirks, the judgment. She was an outsider now, defined by the rumors, by the slap, by her loss of control.

Dove couldn't shake the feeling of regret, of wishing she had handled things differently. But it was too late. She had crossed a line she couldn't uncross, and now she was paying the price.

She hadn't just slapped Billy.

She had slapped her way into a new kind of loneliness.