I REALIZE I came here knowing Mia would be here. It's a Saturday night, and it's clear their routines really haven't changed since I moved away. But that doesn't mean my heart doesn't drop into my stomach at the sight of the girl I once thought of as my best friend.

Her smile is as sly and perfect as always as she looks at me. "I didn't expect to actually see you here, you know. You've been so quiet online." Mia turns her grin on Hunter and it turns downright feline. "And I certainly didn't expect you to bring your stolen trailer trash hookup with you."

It would appear we're skipping the whole "let's pretend we don't hate each other" act. Perfect. I can live with that.

I slide into my old persona like I never took it off. "And I didn't expect you'd gotten a personality transplant while I was gone. I guess that means I'm the only one not disappointed here."

Hunter's hands squeeze my waist and my shoulders relax, just a bit. You are not this girl anymore. You will not let her get to you.

Mia flips her blonde balayage over her shoulder— a definite improvement over the last time I saw her hair— and sticks a hand out in Hunter's direction. "Since Peyton doesn't seem to want to introduce us, I'm Mia Walker. A pleasure."

Mia Walker is used to guys falling over themselves for her. But Hunter— gorgeous, cocky, charming Hunter— only stares at her hand with a look of immense disinterest. After a moment he meets her sultry gaze with a bored one. "If you're going to insult me, at least get your facts straight. I live on a farm, not in a trailer park. And I'm her boyfriend, not a hookup, or is that a foreign concept to you?"

Her smile falls into a hard line almost instantly, and I choke back a laugh. "Wow, Peyton," she sneers. "I never thought you'd be okay hearing a guy call a girl a slut."

"He didn't call you a slut, Mia," I clarify. I'm already exhausted by this conversation. "He's just smart enough to realize no guy with a brain could tolerate you long enough for it to be considered a relationship."

She snaps back with a creative, "Takes one to know one."

At this point, we've caught the attention of the people around us. A few have their phones out, because we live in an age where a video of a couple of socialites in a cat fight can skyrocket you to viral standing overnight. I even realize that I recognize a couple faces hanging back behind Mia.

Why the hell did I want this confrontation again? What the actual fuck do I stand to gain? Nothing.

"Look Mia," I start, holding out a hand in truce. "I'm only in town to see my dad this weekend. I brought my friends to see the city. Standing here trading blows with you isn't going to do anything for either of us. How about we just go our separate ways and forget all about each other?"

I know the moment the words leave my lips, and I see her expression change, that there isn't a hope in hell for that happening.

Her eyes narrow and she scoffs, her arms crossing over her chest. "God, Peyton, you never get tired of hearing yourself talk do you?" Mia turns her attention back to Hunter and shakes her head. "You've put her on a goddamned pedestal, but you don't know the half of it do you?"

I feel Hunter shrug behind me, his hands a steadying presence on my waist. But a sinking feeling in my gut tells me things are about to get ugly.

"We all have a past," Hunter tells her. "At least Peyton's trying to make up for her's. Can you say the same thing?"

Mia laughs at that, doubling over at the waist so quickly I almost worry she burst an appendix or something. But she straightens up quickly and feigns wiping a tear from her eye. "That's rich, Farm Boy. I can't believe you actually buy that atonement shit."

My spine is straight, and I feel my muscles tense. "Don't," I say under my breath, shaking my head every so slightly. "Please, Mia."

"Don't what?" She asks, cupping a hand to her ear like she wants to be sure she can hear me beg. When I don't, she snaps her fingers as if she's suddenly realized what I'm talking about. "Oh! You mean don't tell him what you're really like, right, Peyton? Because you think if I tell Farm Boy here what an entitled, manipulative bitch you are he'll run for the hills?" Mia shakes her head in mock sympathy. "You don't have a lot of faith in your boyfriend's affection, now, do you?"

Words fail me. I can't bring myself to spew excuses or come up with clever retorts. Despite the wealth of secrets I've come to know over the years of associating with her, a part of me knows that if I sink to her level, I haven't really changed at all. I know that if I open my mouth and say any of the things in my head, I am no better than she is, and she's right.

I stay silent, hanging my head in resignation as a cruel smile turns up Mia's painted lips. "Has she ever told you about Layla-Mai Jordan?"

Hearing that name sends ice water through my veins. I'm quite certain I've gone pale as a ghost.

"Sure," Hunter lies. "And I don't care."

I mean, I'd told him she was a mistake I'd made. I'd told him I had regrets. But he didn't know, not really. He didn't know what I'd done to the poor girl, back when I was no better than Mia.

Back before I knew exactly what it felt like to have your life upended, torn apart and shattered before your very eyes.

We were in our junior year at the Spence School when I ruined Layla-Mai Jordan's life.

I wish I could say I was young and stupid when it happened. I wish I could say I realized how awful I had been immediately and changed my ways. But Layla-Mai wasn't the first person I'd bullied and tormented, and she wasn't the last. What makes her so special in the grand scheme of things is that, with her, I went too far. I crossed too many lines and looking back, I know there will never be enough good deeds on my part to make up for the things I put her through.

It started in September, when the new school year started and she was the new girl at school. She'd gone to a public school on the Lower East Side and lived in an apartment behind an all-hours convenience store run by her brother-in-law. So what exactly was she doing at a prestigious prep school?

Her mother, a housekeeper for a prominent US Senator, had married her boss. The scandal had been all over the tabloids, but we'd never expected to get to find her in the hallway that first day of school.

It had been my idea to make her our project. I had been bitter from a breakup with my summer fling, PMSing and— though I'd never admit it out loud— I felt threatened. Layla-Mai was new, and pretty, and smart, and I was old news. And because I grew up in a world that taught me that I was better than everyone else, I thought it was okay to use my popularity to make her life hell.

It started with me telling her how much I adored her Cartier bracelet. The next day, I waved her over to sit beside me in AP American history. The next week, I invited her to sit with us at lunch. After a month of hanging out at school, partying at the most exclusive clubs, flirting with the hottest guys and shopping at the best boutiques in Manhattan, everyone knew Layla-Mai was one of us.

Only me and my closest friends knew that wasn't entirely true.

I treated Layla-Mai Jordan like a project, building her up over the next few months. We seemed like the best of friends; she shared all of her secrets and insecurities with me, and I had even gotten her a boyfriend— one of the most popular boys at Regis High.

And when her birthday rolled around in December, I knocked the pedestal out from under her.

I had planned her big birthday bash myself, bringing Mia and Natasha in to make sure everything went smoothly. It started with a rumor whispered in the right ear, a secret told to me in confidence after too many shots of tequila. An hour into the party and everyone who mattered knew: Layla-Mai Jordan had lost her virginity to her sophomore English teacher.

I'd sprinkled a few less damning secrets into the mix as well, just because I could. Then I stood by her side and told her everything would be okay, nobody would remember these crazy rumors in the morning. Of course, Layla-Mai didn't remember she'd told me any of those things in the first place. I seemed like a supportive best friend, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen.

But ruining her reputation wasn't good enough for me. So I made sure I disappeared right before the cake came out, making sure Layla-Mai would have to come looking for me so that she could blow out the candles. And I made sure Mia would be there to send her right my way.

The look on her face when she walked in on me screwing her boyfriend in her own bed will haunt me forever.

She didn't ask questions, didn't scream and cry, didn't slam the door on the sight of us. Layla-Mai simply looked at me, looked at her boyfriend and closed her eyes as a single tear slipped down her cheek. Then she stepped back and closed the door.

Nobody heard anything about her over the winter break. Her social media accounts were erased, she didn't send a single text or call anyone. When we got back to school in January, we had an assembly about preventing self-harm and teen suicide. Nobody mentioned her by name, but we all figured it out over the next few days when word got out the Senator's step-daughter was in a rehab facility.

I don't know if it was the rumors I'd started or sleeping with her boyfriend that made Layla-Mai Jordan want to down a bottle of her mother's sleeping pills. But the why didn't matter.

Because of me, a smart, vibrant teenage girl tried to kill herself. 

And now everybody knows.

It isn't until Mia gets to the part about Layla-Mai's suicide attempt that I know I've lost Hunter.

He doesn't flinch through most of her story. Not when she tells him what a bitch I was or about the rumors I spread. Not even when she told him I slept with some guy to hurt someone. But when he hears what I almost caused— the result of my torment— that his hands drop from my waist and he takes a single step away from me.

Then Mia smiles wickedly, and I know she's won. I can't stop to tears that spill from my eyes, even if I know I have no right to cry.

I dug my own grave. Now it's time to lie in it.

"Hunter—" His name has barely left my lips when I whirl around to look at him and the words die in my throat. Because everyone is standing there, staring at me like they have no idea who I am.

Mia's sing-song voice sounds out over the shattering of my heart. "Karma's a bitch, Peyton. And now they know you are too."

I want to scream at her; turn around and slap that smug, Cheshire grin off her face. But I let her walk away, because lashing out at her won't help me put the pieces back together.

Tears flow freely from my eyes, no doubt leaving trails of mascara down my face like war paint. I close my eyes for a heartbeat, taking a deep breathe and hoping that when I open them again, this will all have been a nightmare.

"Has anything been real?"

Those are the first words out of Hunter's mouth. When I open my eyes, I see him looking at me with so much disgust that I feel like I may throw up.

"Yes," I say quickly. "It's all been real. I care about you— I care about all of you. I would never do something like that again, I wouldn't hurt any of you. I'm not that person anymore, I swear."

Hunter snorts a laugh, but there's no humor in it. Behind him, I see tears glittering in Addison's eyes. Addison— pretty, harmless, unassuming Addison— who had been ostracized until I'd moved to Rock Valley and encouraged her to come out her shell and blossom. I'd never let myself see the parallels between her and Layla-Mai, but it's clear that she does. And it terrifies her.

"No, Addy," I say, shaking my head mechanically. "I would never ever do that to you. I love you. You are the closest thing to a sister I've ever had, and all I've ever wanted was for others to see you the way I do."

Addison sniffles, leaning subtly into Ethan's side. He looks at me like he's disappointed, his arm wrapped supportively around Addy's waist. Cameron and Tayler seem to have overheard as well, and even though I'm not the closest with either of them, it still hurts to see their stunned expressions.

"So you just expect us to believe you? Because you swear?" Hunter says accusingly. "I've gotta say, it all sounds a little too familiar. The lying, the faking, the manipulation. You've been doing the same things since you got to town."

I tip my head back, closing my eyes against the next onslaught of tears. "I know, okay?" I admit, pressing my palms together in front of my mouth like a prayer. "I know it looks bad. But this world was toxic and I let it turn me into an awful person. When I moved, I got a fresh start and a second chance, so I took it. I changed."

Hunter takes a step closer to me, and for a heartbeat, I have hope that I've gotten through to him. That he's seen I'm still the girl who loves him. But then he speaks, his voice low, meant for only me.

"Was that before or after you decided to use me to hurt Clary?"

I open my mouth to respond, to say anything that will make that cold look on his face disappear. But no words come out. Instead, the sob I've been holding in rips free from my lungs.

There it is; the proof that maybe I'm just fooling myself by thinking I magically became a better person when I left New York. Because even with Manhattan in my rear view, I still schemed up a plan to use somebody Clarissa cared about to hurt her, just like I had back then. Sure, the kids in Rock Valley deserve to know that it's okay to live their lives without a manipulative dictator telling them what's right, what's wrong and how they'll never be as good as her. But, at the same time, how am I any better for making her feel that way?

I'm not. I never have been. I will always be that girl who made another girl feel so worthless that she just wanted to die. And nothing I can do or say will change that.

When I say nothing, Hunter shakes his head. His fingers— the same fingers that had reassured me, held me, and kept me grounded— rake through his already messy hair. For a split second, I swear it looks like he wants nothing more than to reach out and brush my tears away. I've never been a pretty crier, and I can only imagine how pathetic I must look with my blotchy cheeks, snotty nose and streaked raccoon eyes.

But Hunter's touch never comes. His calloused fingers don't brush against my cheek, his arms don't wrap around me, and I feel every inch of space between us like it's a mile. I've burned my bridges, and now there's a giant chasm separating me from the people that I love.

"You should stay with your dad tonight." Hunter tries to keep his tone cool and even, but he's not doing a good job. "I'm sure Addy could use some space."

And that's it. Because I turn to look at a tearful Addison and when I look back, Hunter is shouldering his way through the crowd towards the staircase that will take him back up to the busy street, into a yellow cab, and away from me.

Ethan is the next to go, walking towards me and moving to slip past me. His arm is wrapped around my best friend, who won't even look me in the eye. On some level, I know Hunter is right. I should give her some space, but I'm desperate. My life is crumbling around me, and each of these people I call my friends is about to walk away with a piece of my heart.

So I reach out and grab Addy by the arm, because I have to know if I should have even a flicker of hope that I can make this right.

"Addy, please," I plead, searching her blue eyes that won't meet mine for that glimmer. "If you need space, I will give it. But please—" My voice breaks, even though I already felt broken. "You are my best friend. I can't lose you too."

Her eyes flit to my hand on her elbow. She doesn't relax or tense, but she doesn't pull her arm away either. She's just... there. Addison stares at my hand on her arm and does nothing.

That's when I see it in her eyes, that fractured look of the girl who allows people to push her around and belittle her because she doesn't see how much better she deserves. It's the look she used to have whenever Clarissa or her minions called her "Mad Addy", or said her grandmother's dresses belonged in the trash. Before she realized she was beautiful, and smart, and unique all in her own way.

I drop her arm like I've been burned.

Ethan says something then, something about time, or space, or whatever. But I don't hear him. I just nod mechanically and try desperately to wipe the image of Addison's face from my mind because I did that. I made her feel no better than Clarissa does. And I think that hurts more than seeing Hunter walk away.

One by one, the people I love walk away from me. First boyfriend, then my best friend, then the rest of my friends. Liza will hear about all of this soon, and I doubt she'll see things any differently. Even my own brother can't stand me.

For the first time in my life, I feel absolutely alone. Hopeless. Worthless.

And maybe this is a fitting punishment for my actions.

Until next time, here's a little PSA from a tired nurse who just got off a night shift: WEAR A MASK.

Lots of love,