After taking care of my grandma, I returned to my room. The decoration was still neat and simple, and things weren't so bad at this point in time because I still had my emotional support here.

A simple, neat bed, a desk covered in stacks of novels and school books that were yet to be arranged. Some handsome idol posters that I had back when I was in junior high and a collection of framed photos from my childhood were there too.

I had some foundation, cream, and sunscreen. I liked trying makeup, although I was never good at it. In fact, in the previous timeline, I had tried using makeup to make myself look prettier, but they just belittled me, calling me a pig wearing makeup…

And lastly…

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, taking as much air as I could and enjoying the smell of a clean room. After my mom's death, I had to take care of my grandma until her death not long after my mom. Then I was all alone.

My dad's family refused to take me, so I had to live by myself in this house.

Thus, my depression worsened, and I couldn't even get myself to clean my room, let alone the entire house.

My room would smell pungent and have a lot of trash scattered around. Maybe that was also a reason why they bullied me…

Because I lived like a dirty pig.

…

I walked to the mirror that showed my full body, from head to toe.

"So this is me three years ago…."

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

I still remember when I wanted to explore my sexuality, I wore short pants and a tight-fitting shirt once. But when I went to the class with it, people shamed me, calling me a slut because I had big boobs.

Some boys also called me a whore because they said I was so plain, but because of my body, they said they could fuck me once or twice, as long as I put a paper bag over my face.

I didn't want to be called slut, whore, or an ugly bitch with big tits.

It was so degrading, but I didn't know any other way.

I couldn't handle the sneer and ridicule, so amidst my depression, I ate myself up.

I stuffed myself and got bigger and bigger. I didn't care as long as I could get myself out of the ridicule. Nobody helped me or at least stayed by my side when I was at my lowest.

And after I lost my original shape, they called me piggy. A filthy nasty piggy.

—

"Nasty pig, do you know how disgusting you look right now?"

"Come here, piggy piggy piggy, I have a bag of chips for you!"

"Look at yourself, you nasty ass pig. From head to toe—wait, I don't think you can even see your toes! AHAHAHAHA!"

—

In the end, whatever I did only turned me into a source of ridicule. The joke character they used to ridicule when they got too bored with their perfect lives.

Now, my body returned to its original shape before I overate in my depression. True, I had developed perky boobs as a teenager, and an hourglass, bodacious shape.

I used to hate this body because of those bullies calling me degrading names, labeling me a slut just because of something I couldn't control. But after I experienced a humiliating death, my heart went cold and numb. I didn't care much about those words except a promise that I would return those words back at them.

Rather than drowning myself in their ridicule, I wanted to make sure I looked proper without drawing too much attention.

As much as I wanted to just go Rambo on them, I had to play smart. I had no competent friends, nor good social standing, and not even money.

All I had was my brain, so I had to play the game well before taking control. After I made sure that everything was under control, I could do whatever I wanted.

I stared at myself in the mirror, and a smirk grew on my face, "What do you want to do with them?"

"Of course, you will make sure they experienced pain worse than death. You must shame them just how they shamed you before."

"Emmelyn Jones, You can call yourself petty, vengeful or evil. But you must not forget what they did. Give them what they deserve."