Two Years Earlier: October...

I could feel the eyes on the back of my neck. At this point, I wasn't sure if people were actually looking at me or if my paranoia was in overdrive. Either way, it made it impossible for me to focus.

Closing my laptop, I willed myself to not look up at the crowded library as I began stuffing my books and papers into my backpack. Midterms were coming up and my safe space was busier than usual. Putting my laptop in last, I zipped up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder.

Yep, not paranoid.

A girl at the desk behind mine was completely ignoring her studies to glare at me. I sighed and brushed the hair out of my face. I didn't even know her.

Just ignore it.

I hurried my way through the library, doing my best not to make eye contact with anyone. I had almost made it when I heard whispers from the front desk.

"That's her," a pretty girl working behind the desk whispered. It was done intentionally loud enough for me to hear.

With my hand still poised to push the door open, I turned to face the whisperers. The girl at the desk and her friend were both openly staring at me. When they saw I'd stopped to look at them, they didn't shy away. Instead, they smirked, seemingly enjoying my discomfort.

"Liar," the girl behind the desk mouthed to me, making her friend chuckle.

I stiffened my shoulders and left straight out the door. I had no intention of defending myself to them. Taking a deep breath, I adjusted my heavy backpack on my shoulders and began my trek back to my dorm.

The October breeze nipped at my cheeks, making me shiver and zip up my jacket. I reached into my pocket to pull out my headphones but came up with nothing. I stopped my walk to pat myself down, only to remember that I'd shoved them and my phone into my backpack with my books.

Annoyed at myself, I kept trudging on, sticking my hands in my pockets and quickening my pace. As I approached my dorm, I saw a group of people loitering outside the door. I sped up my pace again, hoping to pass through quickly.

"Excuse me," I mumbled to a tall, skinny guy who was blocking my path.

"Lying slut," was all that came out of his mouth.

I didn't even bother looking up to see who he was and shoved my way past him into my building. I could feel my face burning with humiliation, but I did my best to swallow it down.

By the time I finally got to my room, I felt like I'd run a mile. I plopped down on my bed and pulled my laptop out of my backpack and opened it up. Logging onto Facebook to message my sister, I noticed I had an invitation to a group called "Support Emily." I clicked the link.

We as a community should all reach out to support Emily. Lying sluts need friends too! Help support her trip to rehab.

Way to go Emily. Hope you don't drink yourself to death.

She doesn't need help. She's an attention-seeking whore.

You deserve what you get.

Slut! Go to AA.

Ur ruining ppls lives.

Do us all a favor and hang yourself.

I slammed my computer shut. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to get enough air. My heart pounded as my chest constricted. With shaking hands, I dug through my backpack for my phone. Finding it at the bottom, I grasped it like a lifeline and hit my speed dial.

"Hello?"

"Mom," I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. "I think I need to come home."