The Popular Project

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming

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Bridget

7:10 PM

After circling the entire kids' section for what felt like ages, I finally spot the jacket in Katie's size. Ten minutes of pointless wandering and not a single 'helper' offered any actual help, just staring blankly as if I had three heads. I snatch one jacket in black and another in pink-Katie's current favorite color.

"Just these two," I mutter to the disinterested cashier. She rings me up in silence, barely glancing my way, sliding the jackets into a plastic bag. "Come again," she drones, though we both know she couldn't care less if I did or didn't.

I speed-walk toward the mall exit, knowing full well Katie's going to chew me out for running late. Each hurried step brings the exit sign into clearer focus, and I'm moving fast, my mind already on the excuses I'll have to give. Suddenly-bam-someone slams into me, my bags flying out of my hands, the contents scattering across the polished floor.

"Just great."

"I'm so sorry!"

"Are you alright, miss?"

Two young men crouch beside me, quickly gathering my things. They're about my age, maybe a little younger. One, with a soft Taiwanese accent, hands me the jackets.

"Sorry about that."

I force a smile. "It's okay, really. Nothing broken."

"Do you know where the restaurant is around here?" the other man asks, still holding one of the bags.

I give them directions, and we exchange polite farewells. It's nice to encounter friendly people, I think, though I'm still a little rattled.

As I step onto the escalator, something strange happens. The entire mall plunges into an eerie, oppressive stillness. The escalator grinds to a halt beneath me, and the usual buzz of voices and footsteps vanishes, replaced by a deafening silence. My stomach tightens with unease. It's not just the escalator-everything has stopped. The entire mall has gone dead.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The air feels heavy, thick, like before a thunderstorm. My skin tingles with static, but it's bright outside-no sign of rain, not a cloud in the sky. My mind scrambles for answers. What's happening?

A boom echoes through the space, distant but unmistakable. It rattles the air, vibrating through my bones. The murmurs of confused shoppers fall away, replaced by an anxious quiet. Then, another boom, closer this time. Louder.

The woman behind me on the escalator fumbles with her phone, calling the police. "Teenagers playing some kind of prank," she mutters, but I don't buy it. Something's wrong-deeply wrong.

We start edging down the stalled escalator, trying to act calm, but there's an unspoken panic simmering beneath the surface. The entire building feels...off. Like it's holding its breath.

Suddenly, a harsh scraping sound erupts from somewhere above. I whip around just in time to see one of the massive stair railings tear free and crash to the floor beside the escalator with a sickening thud. The ground shakes beneath us.

Now it's time to panic.

People scream, shoving to get off the escalator, scrambling for safety. But then-another set of railings collapses. And from the twisted wreckage, something emerges.

A figure.

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