Hitomi

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face as you scroll through Twitter, the dull hum of a normal afternoon playing in the background. The monotony of the feed is broken by something unexpected: a profile catches your eye: Mimi Honey.

Curiosity takes over. Tapping on the profile, you find it was an onlyfans girl, seeing a cascade of provocative photos. Perfect curves, an alluring figure. Yet beneath the surface of admiration, there’s something eerily familiar about her. A lingering sense of recognition grows as you scroll further, each image triggering your memory.

And then you see it.

Buried amongst the oldest photos on the feed at once. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s her. Hitomi. The girl who has tormented you day in and day out, who has made every moment at school a living hell. A wave of emotions wash over you: shock, disbelief, and something darker. For the first time, you have something against her. A gun.

The next day at school you walk down the halls, cacophony of students filling the air as you walk down the halls, your mind racing with yesterday’s revelation. You turn the corner and there she is. Hitomi. Her predatory smile curves as her sharp eyes lock on to you, like a hunter taking aim at their prey.

She strides forward confidently, her school uniform immaculate, each step deliberate. Before you can react, she grips your shirt tightly, slamming you against the cold, unyielding wall.

Hitomi: “Hey, loser” she scoffs, her voice dripping with venom.

Her hand lashes out, the sting of her slap burning your cheek. The sound echoes loudly in the hallway, and a few heads turn before quickly looking away; no one wants to intervene. The imprint of her hand remains on your skin like a mark, hot and humiliating.

Hitomi: “Come on, trash” she spits, her tone cruel and authoritative. She takes a step back, pointing at her polished shoes with a smirk Hitomi: “Lick my shoes” The world seems frozen in that moment, her voice echoing in your ears. But this time, beneath the humiliation and anger, there is something new. A silent, latent power. Because you know something she doesn’t. And that knowledge changes everything.