The SATs and the Scapegoat

The SATs and the Scapegoat

Gavin

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My world revolved around Ethan. I helped him with everything: applications, essays, test prep - pouring my all into his Harvard dreams. Then, strange, white "pop-up comments" started appearing in my vision, framing my life like a game, and labeling me the "main girl" in his story. Suddenly, Ethan was obsessed with Chloe, a high school junior, talking about dropping out of Harvard for her. He kept asking me to do things for Chloe, demanding exclusive SAT materials and "brain-food" smoothies, even blaming me when she struggled. I heard him tell his mom he'd "ace these SATs" and get back into Harvard, bringing Chloe too, as if I was just a tool in his grand plan. He was throwing away everything we built, all for a girl who publicly dismissed me as his "old girlfriend" from a "state school." When he brazenly texted me to make new advanced math questions for Chloe, saying it was "my fault for not helping her more," a cold rage settled in. My efforts, my sacrifices, my very identity, felt completely erased, all for his selfish pursuit of someone else. The final straw came when he went missing after his SATs, only to emerge, drunk, blaming me for breaking up with him right before his big exam. He wanted me to fix his life, to appeal his scores, even after he' d emotionally exploited me for years. But then I met Alex, a kind, understanding presence who actually listened and cherished me. I blocked Ethan, choosing to write my own story. This time, my life was the main event.

Introduction

My world revolved around Ethan.

I helped him with everything: applications, essays, test prep - pouring my all into his Harvard dreams.

Then, strange, white "pop-up comments" started appearing in my vision, framing my life like a game, and labeling me the "main girl" in his story.

Suddenly, Ethan was obsessed with Chloe, a high school junior, talking about dropping out of Harvard for her.

He kept asking me to do things for Chloe, demanding exclusive SAT materials and "brain-food" smoothies, even blaming me when she struggled.

I heard him tell his mom he'd "ace these SATs" and get back into Harvard, bringing Chloe too, as if I was just a tool in his grand plan.

He was throwing away everything we built, all for a girl who publicly dismissed me as his "old girlfriend" from a "state school."

When he brazenly texted me to make new advanced math questions for Chloe, saying it was "my fault for not helping her more," a cold rage settled in.

My efforts, my sacrifices, my very identity, felt completely erased, all for his selfish pursuit of someone else.

The final straw came when he went missing after his SATs, only to emerge, drunk, blaming me for breaking up with him right before his big exam.

He wanted me to fix his life, to appeal his scores, even after he' d emotionally exploited me for years.

But then I met Alex, a kind, understanding presence who actually listened and cherished me.

I blocked Ethan, choosing to write my own story.

This time, my life was the main event.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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