NO LONGER HIS PLAYTHING：I'm the Heroine of My Own Story novel Chapter 11

Sid grabbed tissues from the bedside table, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to wipe away my tears.

"None of that crap is true, Phoebe. Those people don't know the first thing about you!"

"I've already reached out to Stephen—he's a Discord mod. He's taking down the post and banning the worst commenters right now."

I looked up at him with a hollow smile.

"How can you be so sure they're just rumors?"

"What if I actually—"

"Stop. Just stop right there," Sid interrupted firmly.

"I've known you for two years. I've seen how hard you work, how you help everyone on the team, how you respect yourself. This isn't you."

His eyes burned with protective anger as he spoke without a hint of doubt: "Whatever happened in that bathroom, it clearly wasn't your choice. Someone took advantage of you when you were sick."

Something in his absolute certainty created a tiny space of safety in my shattered world. "Otherwise you wouldn't even look at me..." he added, his voice barely audible.

"What?"

"Nothing important," he mumbled, focusing on his phone.

"Stephen just confirmed the post is gone. He's also alerted the school administration about the photo—it constitutes harassment."

After a moment of silence, Sid carefully asked: "Do you think... would it help if Zephyr cleared things up? I could talk to him if—"

I shook my head firmly.

How could Zephyr possibly explain dragging a girl into a bathroom stall and forcing himself on her?

If he told the truth, he'd have to admit to Katherine what he did—admit that while pursuing her, he was shoving his hands up another girl's shirt.

No one would misunderstand what that meant.

Sid nodded, understanding immediately.

"What if I put something out there instead? Just the facts?"

TrackTeam_Jake: [Whoa, is this official? Katherine's going public?]

[Katherine_Linderman: Is this what real love feels like? How someone who acts like the Big Bad Wolf around everyone else can be just a sweet puppy trying to make you smile ?]

The photo showed a clumsily sewn rabbit plushie with mismatched button eyes.

The stitching was awkward and crooked—but I recognized it instantly.

It was the rabbit I had made with my own hands in third grade and given to Zephyr on his birthday.

I stared at the screen, completely numb.

Zephyr hadn't just betrayed my body and my reputation.

He'd taken the physical symbol of my childhood love—something I'd poured my heart into making for him alone—and casually handed it to another girl like it meant nothing.

Something inside me finally, mercifully, went silent.

The last ember of hope I'd been foolishly nurturing extinguished completely.