When I was eight, I learned that some monsters don’t hide under the bed—they sit behind you in class, whispering just loud enough for you to hear.
Nancy wasn’t the typical bully. She didn’t push or hit; she used words like a scalpel, cutting deep without leaving visible scars. Teachers thought she was sweet. My parents told me to ignore her, but ignoring Nancy was like trying to ignore a mosquito buzzing in your ear.
By high school, I became a master of invisibility. I ate lunch alone, kept my head down, and counted down the days until graduation. When I left for college and built a new life, I barely thought about her.
That was until my brother called.
He excitedly told me he was engaged—and then revealed the shocking news: his fiancée was Nancy.
I couldn’t believe it. I reminded him of what she’d put me through in high school. He brushed it off, claiming people change, and asked me to attend the engagement party. I reluctantly agreed, telling myself I was over it.
At the party, Nancy was as polished and perfect as ever. She greeted me with a backhanded compliment, followed by more subtle insults. I realized she hadn’t changed, but I had. This time, I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
That night, I remembered something from high school—Nancy’s irrational fear of butterflies. I devised a plan. I ordered 200 live butterflies to be delivered to her home after her wedding, making sure they’d be released indoors, where she couldn’t escape.
The wedding was just as expected—Nancy basked in the spotlight. At the end, I told her I had a special gift for her. She was eager to open it, but when the box was lifted, 200 butterflies exploded into the air. Nancy screamed, flailing in panic as my brother tried to calm her down. I had everything filmed.
The next morning, my brother called, furious. He accused me of traumatizing his wife, but I reminded him of how much I had suffered because of Nancy. When he tried to brush it off, I told him the whole thing was on video. He didn’t respond.
That was the last time I heard from Nancy—and, for the first time in years, I felt at peace.
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