Episode 1: The Girl Who Came Back from the Dead
"They said I disappeared. That I broke.
But here's the truth:
I was rebuilding—
Just so I could return and ruin them all."
— Backstabber's Diary, Page 1
---
The gates of Velmont Academy opened like the jaws of a beast. They stood wide and welcoming, pristine and polished, as if they hadn't swallowed students whole in silence before. Everything about the place looked too perfect—shiny floors, spotless walls, and students with their laughter too loud to be honest.
Elara Hayes walked through those gates like a ghost reclaiming its haunted house.
The sun bounced off her black hoodie. Her steps were slow, deliberate. Her dark brown eyes hid behind tinted glasses. She didn't walk like a transfer student; she walked like a storm cloaked in silence. She was calm, but not because she had healed. She was calm because her rage had been sorted, organized, and folded neatly in her chest like a loaded weapon.
It had been three years.
Three years since her name had been thrown into the fire. Three years since her truth had been turned into lies, and lies dressed in the gowns of truth. Three years since she had disappeared—not physically, but emotionally, mentally. She hadn't run away.
She had been rebuilding.
Not as Rhea Collins, the bright, soft-spoken, well-loved topper with dreams and too much trust. No. That girl died the day her name was dragged through the school bulletin board with scandal headlines and mockery in group chats.
Now, she was Elara Hayes.
The girl who came back from the dead.
---
Her shoes clicked softly across the courtyard where her laughter used to echo. It was the same courtyard that once saw her joy, her pride, her celebration—until it saw her downfall. She didn't need to look twice to feel the memories rush back like cold wind.
A voice rang out—sweet and sharp.
Elara froze for a second but didn't turn her head. She didn't need to.
She'd know that voice anywhere.
Kaelyn Reed.
Her ex-best friend. The girl who had cried with her during movie nights, swore to keep her secrets, and then—sold her out.
Kaelyn stood by the fountain, surrounded by designer bags and girls who laughed like hyenas on cue. Her French braid was flawless. Her blazer was tailored. Her face wore the same innocent expression she had worn in the principal's office three years ago, while Elara stood shaking beside her, begging to be heard.
Elara walked past her without a glance. Let Kaelyn laugh. Let her rule.
> She doesn't know the kingdom's already burning from underneath.
---
She entered Class 11-B, the same classroom where her life had collapsed before. The walls were still the same dull beige. The windows still fogged at the corners. The ceiling fan still creaked with the same lazy rhythm.
The only thing that changed—was her.
She walked straight to the last bench by the window and sat down.
The desk was scratched with old names. Gum stuck beneath it. In the corner, someone had carved "Love dies."
She pulled out her black notebook. No stickers. No name. No personality. It was a journal made for war.
She flipped to the first page and wrote a single word in capital letters:
> BACKSTABBERS
Below it, she listed three names:
1. Kaelyn Reed
2. Aiden Calloway
3. Ms. Lila Mercer
Her pen paused after the third name. Her grip tightened. Her handwriting stayed beautiful—because rage didn't have to be messy.
Every name on that list was a chapter in the story of her ruin. They didn't just hurt her. They chose to.
---
"New girl?"
The voice behind her was casual, deep, and slightly amused. She looked up slowly.
A boy sat half-turned in front of her. Tousled hair, tired eyes, and bruised knuckles. He wore his uniform sloppily—sleeves rolled, tie undone, confidence in every breath. His eyes were storm-grey. Focused. Not the kind that wandered, but the kind that observed. Sharp. Silent.
Silas Vexley.
His name had floated through whispers—suspensions, fights, rumors. A boy who didn't speak unless necessary, but when he did, people listened.
Elara met his eyes, expression blank. "Don't talk to me."
He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't plan to."
Then he turned fully and took the seat behind her.
No questions. No comments.
But he didn't stop watching her either.
---
The classroom filled with the sound of chairs scraping, pens clicking, students giggling and mocking. Kaelyn walked in like she owned the oxygen. Aiden Calloway trailed a step behind—still golden, still charming, still sickeningly perfect.
He used to call her "Rhe," back when he acted like he cared.
Back when he let her fall and said nothing.
Ms. Lila Mercer walked in next, heels clicking with fake power. Her perfume announced her arrival before her voice did. Elara looked up once, briefly, and then looked away. If they hadn't recognized her already, they would soon.
She hoped they'd scream when they found out.
---
That evening, after school, Elara sat in her rented room on the edge of town. It was small. Cheap. Safe. The windows were cracked. The paint peeled near the corners. The world didn't matter here.
This was her headquarters.
She knelt beside her bed and slid out a wooden box hidden beneath the floorboards. She placed it on the mattress and opened it gently.
Inside were ghosts:
A burnt school ID with the barcode melted.
A photo of three girls—two smiling, one face scratched out.
A broken bracelet with a name charm missing.
And a diary, faded and half-burned.
The original Backstabber's Diary.
She picked up a black pen and flipped to a clean page. Her hands didn't shake. She'd trained them not to.
---
Dear Diary,
I walked past her today.
Kaelyn.
She looked at me like I was air.
She laughed like I wasn't ever the reason she won anything.
She laughed like I wasn't ever real.
They all did.
I watched them thrive while I suffocated.
I watched their lies win.
But not anymore.
Because I've returned not to prove them wrong—
But to make them fall.
One by one.
No blood. No shouting.
Just truth, served cold.
I am not here for healing.
I am here for closure.
And closure isn't always clean.
---
The ink soaked slowly into the page like it knew how heavy the words were.
A knock hit her window—three soft taps.
She turned sharply, heart still. A shadow stood on the balcony opposite hers. The same grey eyes met hers.
Silas.
"Didn't think you'd live across from me," he said casually.
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you stalking me?"
He smirked faintly. "Not stalking. Just curious. You look like a girl who knows how to bleed without a sound."
She didn't respond.
He didn't wait.
He vanished into the night like he had never been there.
---
Elara turned back to her diary, letting the wind flip the pages behind her. Her eyes moved across the name list again.
Kaelyn.
Aiden.
Lila.
The ones who burned her would now burn slowly—with their secrets torn open like old wounds.
> And the first piece?
She smiled.
> Already gone.
---
"What they don't know is…
I already destroyed the first one."