It didn't stop there.
Angelica's game had only just begun, and it felt like she was everywhere at once, making sure I could see it.
It started with my school project. I had worked tirelessly for weeks on my science presentation — the graphs, the diagrams, even the tiny handwritten notes in the margins. I thought it was perfect. I was ready to present it to the class and my crush, hoping he'd finally notice how much effort I put in.
But that morning, Angelica walked into class holding my notebook. "I finished this last night," she said loudly. "I think everyone will agree it's my best work yet."
I opened my mouth to protest, but she smiled sweetly at the teacher. "It's okay, Zheppy helped me," she said, "but I added some improvements."
The teacher, who had always been fair to me, frowned and looked at me sharply.
"Zheppy, why are you lying? Your sister worked so hard on this."
My face burned with humiliation. The classroom erupted in whispers, some students staring at me with disbelief, others snickering quietly. My crush glanced at me with confusion and disappointment, and my stomach sank. I wanted to scream, to tell the truth, but the words caught in my throat. Angelica's smile was a dagger. She had won.
Then came my crush. I had noticed him before, of course — the way he laughed at my jokes, the way he smiled whenever I walked into the classroom. I had dreamed of talking to him alone, of finally sharing my feelings. But Angelica was faster, more daring.
It started with small things: she "accidentally" spilled juice on him during lunch and rushed to clean it up, laughing as she dabbed at the stain. He laughed too, charmed by her playful touch, and I stood frozen, my lunch forgotten. Then she began planting little lies. "Zheppy said you were boring," she whispered to him at lunch one day. "She never cared about you."
I tried to correct him, but every time I spoke, she found a way to twist it, turning my words against me. And one afternoon, I saw it with my own eyes: Angelica and my crush, holding hands, smiling as if I didn't even exist.
He looked at me briefly, his eyes clouded with doubt. "I thought you were kind," he said softly. "Angelica told me how you treat her."
My heart shattered quietly.
At home, things weren't better. Angelica made up stories, exaggerating every small disagreement into cruelty. She told my parents that I was ignoring her, bullying her, even sabotaging her life at school. My older brother, who had always been my shield, glared at me one evening.
"Why can't you accept her?" he demanded, his voice sharp.
I wanted to scream, to throw the truth at them, to make them see that I wasn't the one lying, but no one would listen. Angelica had perfected her act. She cried on cue, begged for comfort, and even my parents, who had always trusted me, softened at her "pain."
Danica, my once-loyal friend, began avoiding me too. Angelica had spun lies so convincingly that Danica believed I had been talking behind her back, mocking her, using her for my own popularity. My once-friendly texts went unanswered. My messages ignored. Even a simple "hi" was met with cold silence.
And then there was Glenn — my best friend, my anchor, the one who had always been there for me. Angelica didn't waste a second. She told him that I was embarrassed to be seen with him, that I only kept him around because I needed someone to help me with schoolwork, someone to lean on, someone expendable.
Glenn confronted me in the school hallway, his eyes filled with hurt and confusion.
"Is it true?" he asked quietly, his hands trembling slightly.
"No," I whispered, my voice cracking.
Angelica stood nearby, tears streaming down her face, perfectly timed, perfectly innocent. "I just don't understand why she's so mean to me," she cried.
Glenn's expression faltered. He looked at me one last time and stepped away. I watched him go, my chest tight with pain, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life.
But the worst part wasn't the friends I lost or the love I never got. It was the way Angelica made everyone — my parents, my brother, even my teachers — see me as the villain. Every word I spoke, every effort I made, was twisted into lies. She had stolen my life, piece by piece, and left me standing in the shadows, powerless to stop it.
And yet, even as tears blurred my vision, I knew one thing: I couldn't give up. I couldn't let her completely erase me. Somehow, I had to survive… even if it meant fighting against my own blood.