“So we take down all of them,” I say softly. “One at a time.”
Her eyes widen, like I’m suggesting we stop by Neverland on the way. “It’s not that easy. And why should she be first?”
It takes me a moment to answer, mostly because I’ve asked myself the same question. It haunts me not to have answers. To be this deep in the fight and still wonder if it’s wrong just because it’s not clean. Just because I can no longer see the lines.
“Because she’s built a career on lifting women. On being one of us. And it’s all a lie. She’s in a position built on inherent trust—not just because of her career, butbecauseshe’s a woman. Her betrayal stings the worst of all.”
Professor Bell looks down at her hands. The rings on her thin fingers glint dully in the lamp’s light.
“You’ve said no one else has responded? Who else have you emailed?”
I tell her their names. Ralston’s crimes.
“None of them want to come forward,” she says with a slow nod. “Because they know what it’ll cost. Not just for her. Perhaps not even mostly for her. But for them.”
“I know,” I admit.
“In battle,” she tells me softly, “everyone gets hurt. Everyone bleeds.” There’s no judgment in her tone now, just sadness.
“Everyone’s bleeding anyway,” I say. Then I meet her eyes, an idea sparking in my head. I think of Jade, of Naya, of Dani. I think of the missing laptop. I think of the countless names we’ll never know, the women who’ve been hurt by her in ways we’ll never learn. I think of Ralston, smiling back at me from the head of the classroom all those years ago, of Ralston yesterday smiling at me across the gallery—both times thinking she’s already won. “What if there’s another way?”
She cocks her head to the side, intrigued.
“What if the truth could exist somewhere neutral? Somewhere outside of Ralston’s control?”
She glances around the room, then back at me. “What do you mean? How?”
I smile.That wasn’t a no.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The trip back to my dorm is filled with a strange fog inside my head. My heart is steady, thoughts focused and determined. I don’t notice anyone around me. The quad could be empty or full, and I wouldn’t know the difference.
The idea I shared with Professor Bell has completely overtaken me.
It’s brilliant, and it’s risky, all in the same breath. It could be nothing, or it could be everything.
Back in my dorm, the website takes hours to build. My computer is slower than usual, the icon spinning and spinning as if running the software needed to create the website is bogging it down. It shouldn’t be, but I’m realizing the guy in the housing office was right. This thing is old, and it’s probably time to get a new one, though I don’t need the added expense.
To keep things running smoothly, I make it simple—black text on a white background. There are no images or logos, no fancy script. My heart is pounding too fast, my body vibrating with excitement and adrenaline, the way it used to when I was writing a particularly amazing scene. When the words were pouring out of me of their own accord.
At the top of the website, I type in all caps:
HEAR US ROAR
Below it, I add a short paragraph. Maybe I’ll clean it up at some point—make it more powerful, more strongly worded—but for now, my body aches with the lightning of anticipation. I just need to launch it. Now.
I read over it one last time, quickly, eyes darting from line to line.
You are not alone. If you’ve been manipulated, stolen from, abused, or silenced by someone in power at your university or in your career field—this space is for you.
This is a place to speak. Safely. Anonymously. And together.
No names required. No retaliation possible. Just stories. Just truth. You deserve to be listened to. The world deserves to know.
Here, we will speak our truths and be believed.
Here, we will roar.
