DANI
CARLOS
My heart stalls. “Dani. Is that… Does Dani Comer work here?”
“Um. Yes.” His face wrinkles with confusion, matching the horror in my own. “Look, is this some kind of prank? I really need to get back to work.”
I take a breath, stepping away. I don’t even know what to say, what to ask. So, I don’t say anything. He doesn’t care anyway.
With that, I’m gone. Out of the office and back to my dorm. I knew it was Dani. I knew it had to be. She must’ve told Ralston what I accused her of at the teach-in. That I had proof Ralston copied me.
She got the key and took my laptop because Ralston asked her to.
But…
Why?
They didn’t remove any of the documents—including the blog post she stole from for Dani’s work—so what would they have been doing? What would they have needed with my things? Were they just going through them? Looking to see what evidence I have?
My heart pounds as I climb the stairs of Addison Hall, mind racing. Whatever my next move may be, I need to act quickly.
Back in my dorm, I prepare the emails. I write them one by one, personal but direct. A little warmth, hopefully, so as not to scare them, but not enough to let them get away with ignoring me. And not urgent enough to sound desperate, though I am. It’s a fine line to walk. Not unhinged, but imperative.
Each message sounds nearly the same.
Hi,
I know this might bring up things you don’t want to revisit, but I wouldn’t reach out if it wasn’t important.
We share something important—a pain brought to us by Althea Ralston. Maybe our wounds look different, but they are there. And they matter.
I understand you might not want to come forward. I get the fear that comes with speaking out, probably more than you know. But your voice matters to this narrative.
I’m reaching out to others too. You are not alone. It was never just you, never just me. Our silence empowers her. It gives her strength and a stage. It makes her seem invincible.
I refuse to let it continue.
I don’t need you to speak out publicly or to do anything formal.
I just want to talk. Just us.
Her victims. Her puppets.
All of us, hopefully. Because bravery comes with numbers, and we don’t have to be brave alone. The sisterhood she always promised us exists even without her. Especially without her.
Please just meet me. Hear me out. We’ll decide what to do together.
I send the emails to Jade, Professor Bell, Naya, Dani, Hayden, and Priya. Some who have already turned me down, some I haven’t yet heard back from.
It’s my last attempt, and everything is riding on this. My voice alone will never be enough. It will take others. It will take us being so loud no one can ignore us.
After I send them, I sit in silence, the laptop warm against my legs, and I wait. I’ve just thrown six bottles into the ocean, and now all I can do is hope for rescue.
The first response comes in fifteen minutes, from Priya. It’s the first I’ve heard from her, just one line, and my heart sinks reading it.
Please do not contact me again.
There’s no warmth or greeting. No goodbye. It’s a boundary written in concrete.
